tables--again--and began to cart it toward the sun-dazzled water.
"Phil's the smart one. He got the hell out of the house."
"He's always had a knack for it," Ethan agreed.
He didn't mind moving tables, or setting up chairs, or any of the dozens
of chores--small and large--that Anna came up with. It helped keep his
mind off weightier matters.
If he let himself think too much, he started to get a picture of Gloria
DeLauter in his head. Because he'd never seen her, the image his brain
conjured up was a tall, fleshy woman with tangled straw-colored hair,
hard eyes smeared with sooty makeup, a mouth lax from too many trips to
the bottle, too many matings with the needle.
The eyes were blue, like his own. The mouth, despite its slick coat of
lipstick, shaped like his own. And he knew it wasn't Seth's mother's
face he was seeing. It was his own mother's.
The picture wasn't dim and fuzzy as it had become over time. It was
sharp and clear as yesterday.
It still had the power to ice his blood, to churn a sick animal fear in
his stomach that was kin to shame.
It still made him want to strike out with bruised and bloodied fists.
He turned slowly as he heard the squeal of joy. And saw Aubrey racing
over the lawn, her eyes bright as sunbeams. And saw Grace, standing by
the porch steps, her smile warm and just a little shy.
You've got no right, the nasty little voice in his head hissed. No right
to touch something so fine and bright.
But, oh, he had a need, one that swamped him like a storm surge and left
him floundering. When Aubrey launched herself at him, his arms reached
down, swung her up and around as she shrieked in delight.
He wanted her to be his. With a bone-deep longing, he wanted this
perfect, this innocent, this laughing child to belong to him.
Grace's knees wobbled as she walked to them. The picture they made
flashed into her mind, into her heart, where she knew it would imprint
itself. The lanky man with big hands and a serious smile and the
golden-bright child with a pink bow in her hair.
The sun poured over them as full and rich as the love that poured from
her heart.
"She's been ready to come over since she opened her eyes this morning,"
Grace began. "I thought we could come a little early and I'd give Anna a
hand." He was watching her so intently, so quietly, her nerves did a
rapid dance under her skin. "There's not much left to do, but--"
She broke off because his arm had snaked out, wrapped around her fast
and hard to pull her against him. She had time to draw in one startled
breath before his mouth came down on hers. Rough and needy, it shot
bolts of heat into her blood, sent her startled brain into a dizzying
spin. Dimly she heard Aubrey's happy squeal.
"Kiss, Mama!"
Oh, yes, Grace thought, sprinting to catch up to this frantic pace he'd
set. Please. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
She thought she heard some sound from him, a sigh perhaps, that came
from someplace too deep inside to make a sound. His lips softened. The
hand that had clutched the back of her shirt like a man gripping his own