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Mother of Prevention

Page 25

by Lori Copeland


  “Ah, come on, Maz. You promised you wouldn’t cry.”

  “I know.” She blew her nose. “I lied. God forgive me.”

  Last night we’d hardly slept. We’d sat up drinking diet sodas and talking long into the night. Mazi was driving to Oklahoma with me and the girls, and helping us to get settled in an apartment until I could buy a house. The cramped situation was only temporary. Two houses in our old neighborhood were for sale; one I had admired and loved for years. It was larger than the one Neil and I had previously owned, with lots of closets and storage space. The girls would be back in their old school. Life seemed to be going pretty smoothly right now.

  “Have you talked to Warren about moving?”

  Nodding, Mazi summoned a weak smile. “He finally admitted that he left me alone too much, and this morning, before he kissed me goodbye, he told me if that second house in your old neighborhood hasn’t sold, he’d take a look at it.”

  Well, maybe I’d be wrong about Warren, the coldhearted mackerel; the possibility was entirely valid. I’d been known to be wrong a lot lately. If he’d move Mazi to Oklahoma, I’d forgive him for the years of neglect.

  And maybe he knew Mazi would do the same.

  Having her in Oklahoma would be the best of both worlds. My eardrum was healing nicely, and the doctor said in another month I could return to teaching and travel. Flying no longer scared me. I’d discovered there are worse things in life than death. Mazi would be living three doors away, looking after the girls when I was away. No box elder hedge to step over, no swaying ground beneath our feet. No smell of rotting garbage. There’d be nothing to separate me and my best friend but Okie sidewalks.

  “Then why are you crying?” I demanded. This was a happy day!

  “Because.” Her face corkscrewed and she started bawling. “I’m so happy!”

  “Goofus.” I hugged her and headed back to the house for my purse and keys. The girls had loaded Sailor’s cage into the car and were anxiously tooting the horn. Postcards of Cliff House, Chinatown and Fisherman’s Wharf were tightly packed away, lovely memories of our time in San Francisco.

  I took a minute to wander back through the empty rooms. The house was a good home, even though it needed repairs. Oddly enough, this parting didn’t feel the same as when I’d left the house that Neil and I had shared. Of course, nothing felt the same, but then, it wasn’t supposed to.

  New life.

  New beginnings.

  I reached for my purse and then slipped on my sunglasses. Just before I closed and locked the door, I stuck my head into the foyer and whispered, “I’ll pray that the right person buys you, that you will be a home to some lucky family, not merely a house.”

  Minutes later Mazi piled into the passenger seat and fastened her belt. “What have I forgotten? I know I’m forgetting something.”

  “You took the cats to the kennel?”

  “Yes—yes. Shut the windows and turned off the coffeepot. Set the security alarm.”

  “Then we’re set.”

  She heaved a happy sigh. “You’re right. We’re set.”

  I slid behind the wheel and waited to follow behind the large moving van. The cross-country trip would take the better part of three days, but nobody, even Kris and Kelli, minded. The Madisons were going home.

  As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced back in the rearview mirror, watching the ivy-covered cottage with its charming porch boxes gradually recede. No, nobody minded leaving.

  Personally I think all of us were anxious to see what God had up His sleeve next.

  STEEPLE HILL BOOKS

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5956-4

  MOTHER OF PREVENTION

  Copyright © 2005 by Lori Copeland

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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