and it whispered open.
“Hello. Is anybody home?” The house remained silent and dark. “Hello. Hello. Is anyone here?” She leaned further into the foyer.
It was a large open area, the space beyond pitch black. She ran her hand blindly along the wall, searching for the light switch. Her fingers felt a row of three buttons. She flipped the first one, immersing the area in bright light. Her eyes were drawn upward to the glimmering crystal chandelier hanging twenty feet above. It looked like a hundred glass pieces shimmering like diamonds. Glad I don’t have to clean that baby.
Molly ventured into the foyer, her sandals clattering on the ceramic tiling. The sound echoed through the emptiness. “Hello. Hello.” No one answered. She ventured farther into the house.
She called again, this time loud enough to wake the dead. Obviously no one was home, dead or alive. Her shoulders sagged. What now? First, get Gracie out of the car and into bed. Then maybe I can find a phone book with some relative’s name in it. Where is the child’s bedroom? Molly looked up the circular staircase leading to the second level. It must be up there .
She took a quick tour of the rooms on the first level. Living room to the right, library to the left, powder room, dining room, kitchen, and family room. All large, all empty. She ran up the stairs, calling out as she went. There were five bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a laundry room, again all empty. At least she’d found the child’s bedroom. She pulled down the comforter on the twin bed. Should I worry about pajamas? No . Just get her into bed . She flicked on the angel night-light and headed back to the car.
Gracie barely protested when Molly pried her out of the car seat and carried her to bed. Molly tucked the comforter around the child, then sat on the bed and watched her sleep. Impulsively, she gave the child a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.
Now what? I can’t think. I need sleep. Maybe if I just lie down for a few minutes . Leaving the child’s door slightly ajar, Molly crossed the hall and pushed open another door. Inside, she saw the shadow of a king-size bed, an armchair, dressers. A shaft of moonlight poured through the large casement window, providing a soft illumination. Half expecting to find Gracie’s mother asleep on the bed, Molly didn’t turn on the overhead light. She crept into the room. The bed was empty.
Exhaustion engulfed her, and she didn’t think she could keep upright a moment longer. The bed looked so inviting. She couldn’t prevent the step she took toward it.
What could it hurt? I’ll just lie down for a couple of minutes, maybe a bit longer . Molly’s body sank into the soft mattress. The moon’s reflection caught on a picture on the facing dresser, and the last image she had as her eyelids slid to a close was of Pearce, on the beach, his long, lean, tanned body stretched out on the white sand. He could have been posing for a photo shoot. Molly drifted into sleep, feeling those muscular arms pulling her into the circle of his broad chest. She arched against him, a perfect fit.
She jerked awake. What time is it? How long did I sleep? She’d planned on only closing her eyes for a few minutes, yet now sunshine streamed in through the windows. Her gaze flew around the room. Someone was shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up, Molly Mommy.”
Molly jerked her head around. Who was talking?
“Molly Mommy.”
She heard the whisper, but saw no one. Molly lifted her head. A small blond haired child peeked at her from the end of the bed.
“It’s time to get up. The sun is up already.”
Molly shook away the cobwebs coating her brain. Last night’s events came rushing back.
“I’m hungry,” the child announced. “We have to eat. Then go get Daddy.”
Molly felt a terrible gnawing in the pit of her stomach. Oh, my God, how am I going to deal with this? What can I tell her? They couldn’t bring her dad home today. Molly put her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley