by Lisa Jordan
Josie drew Hannah close and rubbed her back. She hated being able to feel her daughter’s bones and the uncertainty that hovered like a cloud.
Lord, give her breath. Give her strength.
Her throat thickened. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in her lips.
“Tonight was Ashley’s slumber party.”
Josie reached over and flicked on the candlestick lamp on Hannah’s nightstand. They winced at the bright light. She tilted Hannah’s chin to meet her gaze. “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you say something?”
Shrugging, Hannah rested her head against Josie’s shoulder. “I emailed her and said I didn’t feel like coming.”
“Why not? You were so excited to go.”
“I don’t know. Ashley kept talking about these purple feather extensions her mom bought to put in our hair.”
“Kind of hard to add extensions to these cute little wisps, huh?” Josie fingered the fringes around Hannah’s ears.
“Yeah, just a little. I hate looking like a freak.” Hannah traced one of the printed daisies on her comforter.
Josie tilted Hannah’s chin up. “You have to stop using that word. You are far from looking like a freak. You are a beautiful girl.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re my mom. You took an oath or something to say nice things about me.” Hannah twirled one of Josie’s curls around her fingers. “Plus, you have all of this gorgeous hair. How would you feel if you lost it all?”
A rush of wetness blurred Josie’s tired eyes. “Oh, Hannah, if I could, I’d trade places with you faster than you could blink.”
Josie cradled Hannah and rocked her until she felt her daughter’s breathing even out and become more rhythmic. Once she was sure Hannah was asleep, she laid her back on the pillow and tucked the purple-and-white daisy comforter around her. She pulled her arm away.
“Don’t go,” Hannah mumbled, her eyes still closed.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Josie slid an arm back under Hannah as she stretched out beside her. “I will always be here for you, baby. Always.” She closed her eyes for a second, an idea forming how she could help Hannah feel less self-conscious.
*
Shards of light fractured the shadows. Nick clawed his way out of the abyss of the nightmare that held his subconscious hostage. Heart pounding, he forced his eyes open and gulped in air to loosen the constrictive bands around his chest.
He wiped a shaky hand over his sweat-soaked face. The water. The collapsing bridge. Hannah.
Oh, dear God. He lost Hannah.
Bile scorched the back of his throat.
Nick kicked his legs free of the twisted blankets and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He lost Hannah.
No, he didn’t. She was fine. It was just a dream.
It seemed so real.
Hannah was safe.
If he closed his eyes, he could still see the distorted images through the car windshield in his dream.
The stone bridge without guardrails provided his only course of crossing over the rising river. Turning back wasn’t an option. He had to move forward. Once the car was in the middle of the bridge, the water raged against the doors, soaking the interior. He peered through the windshield again to see his daughter being swept over the side of the bridge. Where had she come from?
Josie threw herself in front of his car, begging him to save her daughter. His mother sat in the passenger seat, urging him to keep going across the bridge.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave his daughter. He had to save her.
Abandoning the vehicle, he charged through the rising water and grabbed Hannah’s hands. He begged her to hold on, not to let go, but she cried out about it hurting too much. Her tiny fingers slipped out of his grasp.
He woke himself up by screaming her name.
Breathing hard, his chest shuddered as he tried to force his heart to slow.
Only a dream. His daughter was safe.
He didn’t need to lie on some shrink’s couch to figure out the symbolism of the nightmare. Stress had a way of messing with a guy’s mind, especially after reliving the accident with Josie and bawling like a baby.
He’d dropped into bed like a stone and slept until he’d had to force himself awake.
Stumbling to the window, he jerked open the curtain and pushed up the window, letting the crisp air cool his clammy skin. Shelby Lake residents slept as he untangled his mind from the horrific images that replayed in his head.
The stillness of the inky lake against the dawning horizon beckoned with its wide spaces and open air.
He closed the window and rummaged through his dresser for running clothes. He threw on shorts and a Linwood Park sweatshirt and then jammed his feet into his running shoes. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out the door.
Throwing himself behind the wheel, he started the engine and backed out of the parking space. He drove down Center Street until he reached the turnoff for the lake, passing only a car or two. After parking in the empty beach lot, he jogged the short stretch to the dirt path that snaked along the lake and started off with a light jog to warm his tight muscles.
How long had it been since he’d run? A week? Maybe two? He couldn’t remember. But the rush of freedom warmed his joints as his shoes scuffed against the dirt path. One foot in front of the other. Measured breaths filled his lungs. The chilly air stroked his cheeks. He should’ve grabbed a hat. Too late now.
The earthy scent of April rains mingled with decayed leaves left over from last fall. Birds twittered in the budding branches above his head. An explosion of hot pink and melted gold pushed away the night as the sun stretched over the hilltops and reflected off the glassy lake. Mist arose from the water.
A bullfrog croaked as his footfalls added to nature’s symphony. A family of ducks waddled across the path in front of him. He stopped, jogging in place and watched the ducklings follow their mother into the water.
A stitch in his side caused his steps to slow. His muscles burned. He should’ve grabbed a bottle of water on his way out the door, but running to chase away the night’s demons had been his only concern.
He needed to shower and then head over to Josie’s to see if there were any lingering effects from yesterday’s talk. And he needed to see with his own eyes that they were fine. He wouldn’t lose his daughter—no matter what it took to save her.
Chapter Thirteen
If Josie could be granted three wishes, one of them would be that she wasn’t allergic to caffeine. She could use the extra jolt right about now. Her gritty eyelids burned and felt as if they weighed half a ton.
Smothering a yawn, she poured hot water over her tea bag and set the kettle back on the stove. Like a genie, the scent of vanilla rose and tickled her nose.
A quick glance at her phone showed Nick still hadn’t phoned. She’d called after Hannah finally fell asleep, but Nick must not have heard the phone.
Stretching out next to Hannah in her twin bed hadn’t done Josie’s knotted muscles any favors. And getting less than three hours’ sleep hadn’t helped, either. At least she had peace of mind that Hannah’s breathing had returned to normal.
She sat at the island to read today’s devotional focused on one of her favorite verses from Romans.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
She wasn’t doing so well in the trust department these days. And that was stealing her joy. The physical exhaustion that weighed her down was nothing compared to the mental fatigue that battered her hope and peace.
The back door that led into the kitchen opened. Lindsey knocked on the door frame and peeked her head inside. “Hey, you. Mind if I come in?”
Josie looked up and waved her in, trying not to covet her stepsister’s radiant face fresh from a full night’s sleep. “Hey, I was just making tea. Want some?”
“Sure. That would be great.” Lindsey set her purse on t
he table and shrugged out of her coat. Static from her jacket caused her long honey-blond hair to flare out. Her pink cardigan sweater highlighted the glow on her face.
“What are you doing out so early?” Josie padded to the cabinet and reached for another mug.
Lindsey smoothed down her hair, and then took the mug from Josie. She reached into the canister on the counter for a tea bag. “I had to take Tyler to school and dropped by the shop, but Agnes said you called in sick. Everything okay?”
“Hannah had an asthma attack last night. Probably stress related, but I need to call the doctor in case something else is wrong. And with no sleep, I’d be biting off heads.” She didn’t mention anything about Nick. That wasn’t her story to tell.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry. I totally get the head biting thing.” She caressed the barely visible bump. “My hormones are so out of whack, poor Stephen is going to start calling me Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde.”
Josie eyed her stepsister’s baby bump. “You have an excuse.”
“And you don’t? Oh, girl, everyone totally understands. I simply can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Lindsey set the mug next to the stove and pulled Josie into a hug.
Blinking back tears, Josie mumbled into Lindsey’s shoulders. “I hate being such a wimp. Sometimes I think Hannah’s handling everything better than I am. Besides, you’ve gone through your own share of trials. Look at you now.”
“You’re one of the strongest women I know, Josie. So far from being a wimp.” She drew back to look at Josie. “Besides, I had to learn with God on my side, how can I go wrong?”
Josie rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes, pulled out one of the island stools for Lindsey and sat on the other. “Did you ever wonder if God heard your prayers?”
Reaching for her mug, Lindsey sat on the other stool. She dunked her tea bag. “Like almost every day after Dad died and Stephen married Bethany. But God won’t leave you, no matter how tough your circumstances may seem.”
“I know that. I do. My head and my heart seem to be on different planets right now, though. Sometimes I just get so angry. Why Hannah?” Josie glanced at the clock above the sink. “But enough of this pity party. Since you’re here, could you do me a huge favor?”
“Anything. You know that.”
“I need to run an errand. It’ll take less than an hour. Will you stay with Hannah? She’s still asleep.”
“No problem. Take all the time you need. I’ll give Stephen a call and let him know where I am.”
“You two are so cute. It makes me sick.” Josie smiled to show she was kidding.
“Your man is out there.” Lindsey winked. “Even closer than you may think.”
After hearing Nick’s story yesterday, Josie’s hope for a future with him had evaporated. He had enough on his plate already with Ross. And they were just too different now. Besides, he hadn’t even asked or hinted.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
*
I am not going to cry. Hannah, this is for you, baby.
Josie sat in the stylist’s chair at Shear Pleasure and closed her eyes to keep from staring at the bits of hair on the black-and-white-tiled floor.
“Okay, I’m going to turn you around now so you can see for yourself.” Natalie, Josie’s stylist, swiveled her around and removed the pink-and-white-striped polyester cape, setting it on the gray marble counter littered with styling tools.
Josie stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging over Natalie’s station. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t think getting her hair cut would leave her feeling so…vulnerable. Hannah had asked how she would feel with no hair.
“Check out the back.” Natalie handed her a large mirror and turned the chair again.
Josie positioned the mirror to see the back of her head. She stroked the nape of her neck, feeling very exposed. Vulnerable. Naked.
She handed the mirror back to Natalie and cracked a smile. “Thanks, Nat.”
“New cuts can be a shock at first, but you’ll get used to it. Your facial structure is perfect for this cut. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” Natalie handed Josie a baggie filled with a coiled ponytail. “Here you go.”
Josie withdrew a long thick ponytail held together by a rubber band. What used to be attached to her head. All fourteen inches of it. Returning it to the bag, she stood and brushed a stray piece of hair from her shirt. “Thanks for opening up early for me, Natalie.”
Natalie slid her trendy black-framed glasses to the top of her head, using them to hold her caramel-highlighted hair away from her face. “Anything for you, honey. And remember, it’s only hair. You’ve done a great thing.”
In her heart, she knew she made the right decision. After all, she’d do anything for Hannah. For the first time since Hannah’s chemo caused her hair loss, Josie had a slight understanding of how her daughter felt.
Of course, she wasn’t totally bald, or even close.
But after having long curls for most of her life, the pixie cut would take time to get used to. Natalie had added a little mousse for body on top and swept her longish bangs to the side. She hadn’t had bangs since high school, but she trusted Natalie to work her scissor magic. She dropped the ponytail into her purse the same time her phone rang. She fished it out. Nick’s number appeared in the display.
“Nick.” Josie gathered her coat off the adjacent stylist chair.
“Josie, I’m sorry I didn’t get your call before this. I went for a run.”
She rubbed a hand over her forehead, longing for a nap. “No worries. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. How about you? Your voice sounds funny.”
“I’m tired. Didn’t get much sleep.” She shouldered her phone while she dug a twenty out of her wallet and handed it to Natalie. She waved away the five in Natalie’s hand and mouthed for her to keep it.
Heading out the door into the brisk cold, she flipped up the collar to protect her naked neck from the wind and told Nick about Hannah’s rough night. She decided not to tell him where she was or what she had done. He’d find out soon enough.
When they had dated, he always commented on how pretty her hair was. Would he still think the same? Did she care? Probably more than she should.
*
After hearing about his daughter’s night, Nick’s heart weighed like a cannonball in his chest. The fatigue in Josie’s voice made him wish he had been there to help with Hannah.
Man, the past few weeks… He scratched the back of his head and blew out a breath.
He needed to do something for Hannah. And for Josie. To show both of them how much they meant to him.
An hour later, after a quick stop at Winston’s Barber Shop, he pulled into Josie’s driveway. Shifting his truck into Park, he stared at the Disney-like cottage with its crazy fairy door knocker. Could he see himself living here? Mowing the yard? Shoveling snow? Pushing Hannah on the swing hanging from the sturdy oak in the backyard? Most definitely.
The more he was around Josie, the harder he kicked himself for letting her go a decade ago. What if they had stayed together? He wouldn’t have missed all those milestones in Hannah’s life. He could have partnered with Josie for this parenting gig.
What did Josie say last night? Regrets couldn’t turn back the clock. He needed to learn his lessons from those life experiences and push forward. Even if his current situation seemed more like a dance routine with two steps forward and one step back?
Shutting off the engine, he slid out from behind the wheel. As he headed to the front door, his heart raced the way it did the night he picked up Josie for their first date all those years ago—pizza and a movie.
He couldn’t remember what movie they saw or their pizza toppings, but he remembered wanting to release her hair from the ponytail she wore and smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. That night he fell head over heels in love with the shy girl who dreamed of traveling the world and journaling her experience. Because of him, she didn’t make it out of the state.
>
He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, still not used to the lack of hair. He jammed his thumb in the doorbell. Would Josie think he was an idiot? Really, what would a haircut prove, anyway? Maybe he was an idiot, but it was too late now.
Hannah opened the door, wearing her flowered floppy hat, a yellow long-sleeved T-shirt with a frog on the front that held a sign that read Toadly Awesome, jeans and striped socks. “Dad!”
He knelt, pressing one denim-covered knee to the welcome mat and opened his arms.
Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck. He breathed in the scent of her soap—the same clean scent Josie used—and tried not to notice the way her shirt hung on her tiny frame or listen to her labored breathing. His chest tightened. He never wanted to let go.
Her head came up, knocking back the brim of his hat. She reached up to straighten it and then jerked it off his head. Her mouth dropped open. She clapped a hand over her lips, but it wasn’t quick enough to muffle the giggle—a sound that was music to his ears. “Wait until Mom sees you. You’re made for each other.”
He could only hope.
Chapter Fourteen
One of Josie’s favorite memories as a child was making zeppole—pastrylike fluffy doughnuts—with her Italian grandparents.
Josie’s great-grandmother had added a special ingredient that set her zeppole apart from everyone else’s—a secret she shared with Nonna, who in turn shared it with Josie.
Now that Hannah had started cooking, Josie shared the family’s secret recipe with her.
Would Hannah have a chance to share it with her own family?
Don’t even go there, girl.
Josie baked them only at home and didn’t offer them in the shop. Every time she bit into one, she was reminded of Nonna.
Nonna’s voice, scolding Nonno for overcooking the dough and getting flour everywhere, crept into her thoughts.
Nonno would simply kiss her cheek, whisper Italian endearments in her ear and grab the broom.
Josie hoped to have a marriage as strong as theirs. Someday.
She removed the cooked dough from the stove and scraped it into her stand-up mixer with a heavy wooden spoon.