Forever After by Catherine Anderson Read Free Book Online

for the cookbook. “Can I mix ’em, Mommy?”
    Recalling the mess from the last time Sammy had mixed cookie dough, Meredith smiled. “Oh, absolutely. You’re a much better cookie mixer than I am.”
    Minutes later, the counters were littered with bowls and ingredients, Meredith supervising while Sammy scooped flour from the canister into a measuring cup. The child frowned in concentration.
    “One more should do it,” Meredith told her.
    Sammy stuck the scoop into the canister again, spilled flour from there all the way to the measuring cup, and then asked, “Now do I shake it?”
    Meredith leaned down to see the red lines on the clear glass cup. “Not too hard, remember. Just a jiggle to even it out so we can tell for sure how much we’ve got.”
    Sammy started to shake the cup and lost her grip on the handle. The cup hit the edge of the counter, flour exploding upward in a white cloud. Meredith made a wild grab, but she was too late. The cup glanced off the counter, dive-bombed to the floor, and broke into a half dozen pieces.
    “Oops.” Sammy twisted to look. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I made a real bad mess.”
    Meredith swatted the legs of her jeans. “Yes, well, these things happen, punkin.”
    She helped Sammy down from the stool, then went for the broom and dustpan. When she returned, Sammy had already gotten the trash container from under the sink.
    “Uh-oh, our garbage is filled all up. I forgot to take it out.”
    “Here in a minute, I’ll go empty it.” Meredith set to work with the broom. “First I want to sweep this flour into a pile so we don’t track it all over.”
    “I can do garbage, Mommy. It’s s’posed to be my job.” Sammy picked up the trash container. “I’m sorry I broke your messing cup. I di’n’t mean to.”
    “Measuring cup,” Meredith corrected, even though “messing” seemed a more appropriate word at the moment. “And it’s no big deal, sweetkins. I have another one.”
    Circling the flour on her tiptoes, Sammy headed for the back door.
    “Don’t walk on the weak spot!” Meredith called after her.
    “I won’t.”
    Meredith waited to hear the back door open. Nothing . After a moment, she set aside the broom and stepped to the utility room doorway.
    “Sammy?”
    The child stood frozen before the closed back door, one hand clasping the doorknob, the trash container sitting beside her on the floor.
    Meredith wanted to give herself a swift kick on the rump. The dog . Making cookies had been even more distracting than she hoped. For a few minutes, she had completely forgotten about the Rottweiler, and evidently Sammy had as well.
    Skirting the rotten flooring, Meredith went to crouch by her daughter. “Sammy?”
    No answer. Meredith leaned around and saw the anxiety reflected in her child’s eyes. “Oh, sweetkins.”
    “He could be out there,” Sammy whispered in a shaky voice. “In the dark, he could eat me, and you’d never know where I went. I’d just be swallowed up.”
    Meredith’s stomach rolled with sudden nausea. Sammy was still staring at the door, her small face drained of color. God knew what the child was remembering, the only certainty being that the images weren’t pleasant. In that moment, if Dan Calendri hadn’t already been dead, Meredith would have driven nonstop back to New York and done her level best to murder him. It had been one thing for him to make her life a living hell, but how could he have done this to their daughter?
    It was a question that had no answer, and Meredith had long since stopped searching for one.
    Sighing, she gave the child a heartening hug. “I’ll do the trash tonight, okay?”
    “No, Mommy, don’t go out there! I’m ’fraid you won’t come back.”
    Meredith was sorely tempted to take Sammy’s advice and stay put. But if she humored her daughter in this, it would be the same as admitting she was afraid herself. “Don’t be a doofus. Of course I’ll come back. That silly old Rottweiler isn’t out