She hugged him back. “I know you do, and I love you, too.”
“We can go back to Chicago, Jess. I can probably get my old job back. And if not—”
“Shhhhh,” she shushed him, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. “We’re not going back. It’s time to move forward. Our life is in Florida now. Besides, I’ve been researching the school system here, and I think it’s time I went back to work.”
Owen’s breath caught. “Jess?”
She sent him a smile that reflected in her eyes. “We have plenty of time to discuss future plans. Come on, let’s go home.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Jessica pushed the frilly-pink stroller down the sidewalk of Meadowbrook Circle, watching a string of kids pedal down the street on the bikes they’d obviously gotten for Christmas.
Her mind wondered back to an image she’d painted the night before of Jacob, running through a field of flowers. And on Jacob’s right, ran Terry Dayton, laughter evident on his little face.
Jess inwardly smiled at the final image Terry had left her with. Jacob was at peace.
She grinned up at Owen who strolled along beside her. “Do you remember how excited Jacob was when we took the training wheels off his bike?”
Jessica could speak of their son now without shattering into a million pieces. Though she would miss Jacob everyday for the rest of her life, she had finally learned to live again.
“I remember,” Owen laughed, winking down at his wife. “He skinned his knee in the first five minutes.”
A cool breeze blew through the street, lifting Jessica’s hair from her neck. She inhaled the fresh air and reached for her husband’s hand. “She looks a lot like Jacob, doesn’t she?”
Owen peered down at his tiny daughter, sleeping in the stroller. “She really does. Only, I think she’s going to have her mother’s eyes.”
“Hmmm, you may be right. But I hope she has yours. I love your eyes.”
“I love everything about you,” Owen whispered, bending down to brush his lips across hers.
Jessica straightened as they passed the Martins’ house. The door opened a few inches and Gerri Martin’s face could be seen in the shadows.
Jess slowed her steps and lifted her hand in a subtle wave.
The door opened a little more.
Jessica had only seen Gerri Martin once since Eustice’s death. The poor abused woman had holed up in that house, lost and alone.
On the few occasions Jessica had gone over and knocked, she’d been met with silence.
Gerri awkwardly stepped out onto her porch, visibly nervous and anxious.
“Come on,” Jess whispered to Owen, nodding toward the insecure neighbor.
Owen appeared uncertain. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She might blame us for what happened to her husband.”
Jessica had already thought of that. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Turning off the sidewalk, Jessica pasted a smile on her face and pushed the pink stroller up Gerri Martin’s drive.
She stopped at the steps to the porch. “Hi, Gerri. How are you doing?”
Gerri took a hesitant step forward, her gaze lowering to the stroller. “I-I’m better. I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning and packing up Eustice’s things.”
Owen cleared his throat. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Martin.”
“I’m not,” Gerri shyly admitted, taking another step toward the stroller. “May I?”
Jessica stepped up onto the porch and eased the stroller top back. “This is our daughter.”
“Oh my,” Gerri breathed, her voice wobbly with unshed tears. “I never had children of my own. Though I always wanted them.”
Leaning forward to get a better look, Gerri smiled, her face lighting up with unguarded joy. “She is so beautiful. What’s her name?”
Jessica reached into the stroller and gently retrieved her daughter. She turned toward Gerri and laid the sleeping baby in her arms. “We named her Terri…”
~The End~
If you enjoyed The Boy in the Window, read below for a sneak peek into the pages of Enigma: What Lies Beneath—A Science Fiction/Post-Apocalyptic Thriller/Romance that will leave you reeling.
Prologue
“Abbie, wait.”
Henry’s voice could barely be heard over the thundering of waves crashing in the distance.
An endless stream of tears streaked down Abbie’s face as great racking sobs seized her small body. Pain welled up from her chest until it became impossible to breathe. Still, she ran.
Her father’s shouts faded with every step she took until they disappeared altogether.
Branches grabbed at her arms like the bony fingers of a thousand skeletons, cutting into her skin. She welcomed the sting of every scratch; anything to relieve the pain in her heart.
Her mother’s cold, pale face burned behind her eyes, frozen and empty. Gone were the laugh lines, the sparkle…the life.
Abbie couldn’t bear to see her mother lying in a box for hundreds of people to pass by and say words over. She might be only seven, but she was old enough to know it meant goodbye. A coffin, they’d called it. Resting place. Final.
A wail wrenched from her small chest. It ricocheted off the trees, scattering birds in different directions. She’d give anything to have wings in that moment, to fly away and never look back.
Abbie burst onto the beach without slowing. Her little legs ate up the sand as she ran straight for the water.
Memories of swimming with her mother lit through her mind in sorrowful detail. The laughter, splashing around and exploring the unknown.
A storm was coming, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel her mother’s presence, to beg God to give her back.
“Abbie, do you know why the ocean is salty? It’s all the tears God cries when someone passes away.”
“Mama, what does ‘passes away’ mean?”
“Well, it means when people die, they leave this earth to become angels.”
“If they get to be angels, then why does God cry?”
“For the ones that are left behind who will miss them after they’re gone.”
Abbie sailed headlong into the waves with her sights on the second sandbar. She would swim out as far as she could to be sure her prayers were heard. If God cried enough to create an ocean, maybe He would take pity on her and give back her mother.
The weight of her skirt wrapping around her legs made it hard to move in the churning water. She used her arms to pull herself along in a rowing motion until the current became too strong, forcing her to dive under and swim. Her eyes stung from the salt, but she held them open while memories of her mother’s voice whispered through her mind.
“Abbie, did you know that dolphins can communicate with humans?”
“What is commu…commu—”
“It means talk to them.”
“Have you ever talked to a dolphin?
“I sure have.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“He said for me to tell my daughter to stop peeing in the water where his kids play.”
Her mother’s tinkering laughter echoed through her heart as she fought the tide in search of the sandbar.
Abbie’s arms eventually grew weary and her lungs began to burn, leaving her no choice but to kick her way up for air.
Her head broke the surface to a wall of water so high it blocked out the sun. She opened her mouth to scream a second before a powerful wave crashed down on top of her, taking her back under.
Her body spun head over heels along the Gulf floor, leaving her powerless to stop the undertow. Panic gripped her as sand scraped her face, entering her mouth and eyes. The need to breathe became too strong, and Abbie gave up the fight. Pain. Darkness.
* * * *
Cold. Abbie felt chilled to her bones. Her chest burned, and something was caught in her throat. A spasm gripped her and she heaved.
A voice she didn’t recognize. She
screamed for someone to help her, to remove the heaviness from her neck.
Something slid along her arms to her hands. Tingling warmth. Heat spread out from her palms through her stomach and legs. The shivering stopped.
“Salutem.” The strange word came from a deep voice above her. Was she dead?
She slowly lifted her heavy lids and stared up into the brilliant green gaze of a teenage boy. His eyes were a color she’d never seen before, resembling a few of the marbles she’d been recently collecting.
“God?” she wheezed.
He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand.
She tried to lift her arm, but he held it down. His hands were covering hers, palm to palm. He tilted his head to the other side, and more tingling heat pulsed through her skin. The pain in her chest receded.
The boy peered down at her in open curiosity, similar to the way she’d seen her dog do when he spotted an insect crawling through the grass.
“Who are you?” Abbie whispered, realizing the boy had saved her life.
He glanced up at something in the distance before returning his gaze to her once again. She wondered if maybe he didn’t speak English, and pulled one of her hands free of his to point at herself. “Abbie.”
“Abbie,” he repeated in a strange accent.
“Yes.” She touched her finger to his chest. “And your name?”
Shouts could be heard over the crashing of the waves, and the boy suddenly stilled. Abbie watched in wonder as he sprang away from her and dove into the water.
She pushed up onto her elbows in time to see him swim out toward the sandbar with the speed of a dolphin before disappearing from view altogether.
“No, wait.” She rose to her knees at the edge of the Gulf. Her gaze flew over every wave of the rolling water, but there was no sign of her savior. Fear gripped her, and she forced herself forward. She had to find him.
“Abbie!” her father’s terrified voice shouted in the distance. “Abbie, sweetheart, don’t move! Daddy’s coming.”
How could the boy stay under the water so long? she wondered, searching the sandbar and beyond.
Henry was suddenly there, scooping her up into his arms. “Somebody call 911!”
“Daddy, we have to help him.” Abbie tried to wriggle free, but he only held on tighter.
“Help who, sweetie?”
“The boy.”
Her father turned in a half circle, scanning the beach without slowing his steps. “What boy?”
“The one who pulled me out of the water.”
“There’s no one there, honey. And don’t ever scare me like that again.”
He began to run toward the dunes where a small crowd flocked in their direction with cell phones in hand.
“Is she all right?” an older woman with bright red lipstick yelled as she stumbled along the sand. But Abbie was no longer listening.
She twisted her head around, frantically searching for the boy who had magically disappeared in the great pool of God’s tears.
Chapter One
Twenty-five years later
“You really should eat better, young lady. Your mother would have my ass if she were alive to see some of the dreadful things you consume.”
Abbie hid a smile at her father’s scolding. “I’m thirty-two years old, Henry. I doubt she would go all June Cleaver on me.”
“You shouldn’t call me Henry, you little brat. It makes me sound old and boring.”
“If the toupee fits.” They both laughed a moment before falling into a comfortable silence.
Abbie’s mother had died from cancer twenty-five years earlier, and Henry had never remarried. He hid his loneliness behind a mask of indifference and immersed himself wholly in his work.
Being the lead epidemiologist for Winchester Industries had become Henry’s proverbial crutch, and he spent entirely too much time alone at the lab.
Abbie worried about him constantly and planned evenings such as the one they had tonight to spend quality time together. It didn’t always work. She knew he saw her mother every time he looked into his daughter’s eyes. The exact replica of the only woman he’d ever loved.
The trill of a phone broke the silence and her father excused himself to take the call.
Work, no doubt, Abbie thought, taking a bite of the burger she’d just made to her liking.
He reappeared a moment later with a guilty look in his eyes. “That was the lab, honey. They need me to come back in.”
“What could be so important that it can’t wait until morning?”
He avoided her gaze. “I’m not sure, but I’ll call you later. Don’t wait up. It’s going to be a late night.”
Something in his voice kicked her curiosity up a notch. He never could hide things well, and the whole no eye contact? Yeah, he was definitely keeping something from her.
“I’ll come with you.” She pushed her plate aside and stood.
“Nonsense. Stay and eat your heart attack on a bun. You worked a twelve-hour shift at the hospital today. You don’t need to be running around behind me.”
Abbie had worked at Winchester Industries with her father for several years and often assisted him in the lab before she’d been unceremoniously laid off due to supposed budget cuts.
She knew the higher ups had purposefully kept things from her during her time working in the lab, but whatever Henry hid from her now had to be awfully big for him to outright lie to his only daughter.
And she had no doubt he evaded the truth by the way his left eye twitched. That little trademark had always given him away. “What are you not telling me?”
He pursed his lips. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t want to have to say this, honey, but you are adopted.”
A chuckle bubbled up before she could stop it. She stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the chin. “That explains a whole hell of a lot.”
“You look so much like your mother, Abbigail. She had the same hazel eyes and dark hair. Her butt wasn’t quite as big though.”
Abbie playfully smacked him on the arm before stepping back. “I inherited the infamous booty from you, Henry.”
She knew he didn’t like her to call him Henry any more than she appreciated him referring to her as Abbigail. They were incorrigible teases, but it was their way.
“I really do have to run, sweetie.”
“At least let me pack up your food to take with you or you won’t eat.”
He nodded and began gathering his work paraphernalia while she bagged up his dinner.
Abbie followed him to the car and held the door open as he deposited his things on the passenger seat.
“You are welcome to stay here tonight, Abbie. Jax would love the company.”
“I probably will. If I leave, I’ll feed him before I go.”
He gave her a two-finger salute and slid behind the wheel.
Abbie stepped back as the door closed and the engine roared to life. He backed out of the drive without another glance in her direction.
She waited until his tail lights disappeared around the corner before going back inside to put food out for Jax.
He followed her around with a rubber ball in his mouth, bumping into her legs. The big German shepherd had been with Henry for nearly ten years and had become part of the family.
“You know what’s going on, don’t you, boy?”
His tail wagged in response from the attention.
“Wanna give me a clue? No? I didn’t think so. You are a male after all.” She snagged the ball from his jaws and tossed it across the room, grinning as he bounded after it.
After a quick shower, Abbie brushed her teeth and strolled to her old bedroom in search of something to wear. Henry kept the room exactly as Abbie had left it before she’d gone off to college, right down to the blue pom-poms hanging from the bedpost.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a black tank top, pulled her long, dark hair back in a ponytail, and made haste cleaning up the mess from their earlie
r dinner.
Her gaze landed on the bag of food she’d packed him. He’d obviously forgotten it in his haste to get back to the lab.
With a sigh, she plucked up the bag, grabbed her keys and left the house.
* * * *
Abbie pulled into the parking lot of Winchester Industries and switched off the engine.
Her father’s car sat in its reserved spot in front of a sign that read H. Sutherland. She exited the car, and glanced up at the camera situated on the corner of the building.
The evening security guard waved from his perch behind a small, less than clean window. Smudges on the glass blurred his smile, but she couldn’t mistake the shiny gold tooth displayed so proudly from its position in the front of his mouth.
The door buzzed once, and a click told her the lock had released. She pulled it open and stepped inside.
“Hi, Willie. How are you this evening?”
Willie had been one of her favorite night watchmen. His uniform always appeared clean, neatly creased, and he smelled nice. The badge he wore shone perfectly to match the bald spot on top of his head. He had a toothy grin for everyone and a heart of gold.
“Doing good, Miss Abbie. I sure have missed your face around here. The place hasn’t been the same since you were laid off.”
“Thank you, Willie. I miss you too.”
Willie cleared his throat. “What brings you here?”
“Henry forgot his dinner.” She held up the brown paper bag for him to see.
“I hate it when that happens. My wife is always harping at me about how forgetful I’m getting. I reckon she’s right. It’s hard getting old. He must be working on something pretty big to bring him down here at this hour. It’s almost nine o’clock.”
Abbie couldn’t agree more. “He’s always been eager to please when it comes to Newman. This lab has become his whole life, it seems.”
Willie nodded and waved her on. “Tell him not to work too hard.”
“Have a good night, Willie. Tell that beautiful wife of yours I’m ready for more of her fried chicken.”
“I sure will.” He beamed.
The Boy in the Window: A Psychological Thriller Page 17