Ransomed Dreams by Amy Wallace Read Free Book Online

full-of-butterflies stomach.
    She dressed in a flash and then grabbed the cordless phone. “Hey little sister. Do you have a minute to chat?” Gracie held her breath; they hadn’t talked since her birthday.
    Things with Beth had been rocky since the accident. After counseling pushed her past the initial grief, Gracie had chosen to cling to God and her parents’ teaching. But Beth had taken the loss of her godchildren and namesake and run from faith of any kind.
    She’d run all the way to California, following a man Gracie still despised.
    “To what do I owe this out-of-the-blue call?”
    Sarcasm or surprise. Gracie couldn’t tell. “Because I miss you, Beth. And because I have news about your ‘guy magnet’ car.” That’d get her hopeless romantic of a sister talking.
    Beth gasped. “You’re dating again? Who-boy did the cows all come home or what?”
    Gracie smiled and flopped onto her just-made bed. California may have claimed her sister as a resident, but nothing could completely remove the Georgia roots, even if none of them had “true Southern” accents. A fact that disappointed her first graders when they learned she was born in the “Deep South,” but after too many military moves, she sounded like a Yankee. No
Gone with the Wind
hoopskirts either.
    “The cows on the old Ames’s farm did come home, believe it or not.”
    “Whatever. That old man is crazy for pretending he still lives in the country with his cow and his pig and his three-legged hound dog.”
    They laughed. And a few drips of the iceberg years melted in the warmth.
    “So what’s his name?” Beth flicked off the background noise of some British sitcom. “The boys are napping and Dennis won’t be home ’til way late.”
    Dennis, her not exactly brother-in-law, whose political aspirations included legalizing marijuana. But only after he made a million as a pharmaceutical rep. At least he and Beth had talked about marriage after Peter and Rob were born. Gracie would ask Mom about the latest tonight. No use going there with Beth yet.
    “His name is Steven Kessler, but we’re not dating.”
    “That’s no fun. Why not?”
    “He hasn’t asked yet.”
    Beth laughed. “So why don’t you? This isn’t the 1950s, you know.”
    How could she explain that she wasn’t really ready to date but wanted to return to their teen camaraderie of gushing overchildhood crushes? “He’s tall. Light brown hair and blue eyes. Wears an FBI badge.”
    “Ohhh, cool.” That last bit hooked Beth. “It was the Jeep Wrangler, wasn’t it? He saw you cruisin’, pulled you over, and couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Right? Please tell me it was some romantic meeting like that.”
    “You watch too many soap operas.”
    “Nope, I’m composing scenarios in my head as I chase the dynamic duo around.”
    Gracie hadn’t yet seen her nephews, but she’d seen pictures of the toddlers. They had her sister’s strawberry blond locks and brown eyes. Her arms ached to hold them. To again hold a baby that shared her blood.
    Her flat stomach ached too. She rubbed the empty place under her flag T-shirt. Pregnancy might not be wine and roses, but she loved being a mom. Wanted that title again. Longed to hold a wiggly little baby who clasped a tiny hand around her finger for all it was worth.
    Someday.
    “Hey I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Mr. FBI Supersleuth to help you find out who killed your family?”
    Beth was nothing if not direct. Maybe this was another olive branch like the car, but Gracie didn’t know if she should go down that path or not. What could it hurt, though? “I might do that. Especially since the police here are too busy to give much time to my case.”
    “You gonna keep hounding the cops in Atlanta?”
    Gracie sighed. “Probably not. I’m thinking of heading back to DC the end of the month but playing tourist downtown until then.”
    “Mom will like that.”
    Gracie looked out her blue and white drapes into the clear July sky