Clammy with sweat, she pushed off the heavy comforter she’d found so welcoming when she went to bed and hauled in a gulp of clean, cool air. She’d been having that dream since she was a child, and she hated it. Her various foster parents used to tell her caseworker that she’d wake up in the night, kicking and screaming, and couldn’t be consoled.
Lorelei was convinced that was why she’d never been adopted. She should’ve had a good chance, especially with her first placement, when she was so young. But those foster parents had taken her back to the receiving home after only nine months. Somehow, following years of infertility, they’d managed to get pregnant, but they were having a baby with Down Syndrome, so they said they weren’t up to the challenge of raising two children with special needs.
Lorelei had always believed they would’ve kept her had she been an easier child—a normal child. Even with the unexpected pregnancy. But they were afraid she’d never get over whatever trauma she’d endured. And, sadly, she’d proven them right. The nightmares had plagued her throughout adolescence. They’d eventually gone away, once she’d been married to Mark for several years. But now they were back. Mark’s confession must’ve triggered a memory she’d buried deep inside her brain, because this was her fourth nightmare in the past three weeks.
“Bastard,” she muttered. She could call him that when Lucy wasn’t around. Not only was it liberating, it reflected her pain and anger better than anything else she could say, even though it didn’t change the situation.
Restless, she climbed out of bed and crossed over to the window.
The storm had died down. Shafts of moonlight struck a glistening blanket of new-fallen snow. Evergreen trees jutted through it, standing tall and straight, like sentinels watching over the pristine landscape. She could see why Serenity loved this place. It was beautiful—a winter wonderland even though it was spring—and nothing like anything she’d ever experienced in hot and humid Florida.
Closing her eyes, she tried to regulate her breathing in an effort to slow her heart rate. Although the fire Serenity had built earlier must have gone out by now, the smell of wood smoke lingered in the cabin. Lorelei found it oddly comforting.
That’s it. Just breathe.
She rested her forehead against the glass as she continued to gaze out at the snow-globe-like scene. If she didn’t calm down she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. And caring for a four-year-old wasn’t easy even when she was well rested.
Instead of going back to bed, however, she went into the room next door to check on her daughter.
Curled into a ball, her long medium-brown hair streaming across the pillow, Lucy seemed to be sleeping soundly.
A wave of tenderness drove Lorelei to drop a kiss on her soft, round cheek before pulling the covers higher. That Mark hadn’t considered what his actions might mean for Lucy when he’d gotten involved with Francine rattled Lorelei’s faith in him more than anything else. She’d believed his love for their daughter would be strong enough to preclude him from ever doing anything that would harm their family.
Too bad he’d proven her wrong. By damaging their marriage, he’d left Lucy vulnerable to a huge upheaval, one that could gouge deep emotional scars.
The insidious images Lorelei had been holding at bay ever since she’d learned the truth began to steal into her mind like a poisonous gas. The thought of Mark cheating was painful enough—but with Francine?
Lorelei had known Francine since college, had trusted her like the sister she never had—which only doubled the betrayal, outrage and pain. It sickened her to picture them together, which was why she struggled so hard to avoid it. But she knew them both so well, could all too easily imagine how their affair had played out—
Stop torturing yourself!
She curved her fingernails into her palms, hoping a jolt of physical pain might distract her. She hadn’t spoken to her best friend since Mark broke the news. Francine had attempted to call her a few times. She’d even come over once, shouting from outside that they needed to talk. But Lorelei had refused to accept her calls or answer the door.
That night, Mark, trying to play the arbitrator, had suggested the three of them sit down together, which let her know he and Francine had spoken that day. Lorelei remembered wondering bitterly if they’d managed to squeeze in a quickie. She hadn’t accused Mark of it—he was too busy acting remorseful—but Lorelei had refused to let him arrange the meeting with Francine, told him she wasn’t ready yet.
Yet, she repeated to herself with a mirthless chuckle. She doubted she’d ever be ready, wasn’t sure she could be civil, even though there was a time she would’ve given Francine anything.
When they were roommates in college and Francine lost her job, it was Lorelei who’d paid Francine’s share of the rent, saved her car from repossession and made sure she had food. And she’d done it while living on a shoestring budget herself. She didn’t have family she could fall back on, unlike most other people. And yet she’d tried to be there for Francine, even when Francine’s own family wasn’t.
It was Lorelei who’d nursed her through mono. Lorelei who, when Francine’s mother died, helped make the funeral arrangements. And Lorelei who’d tutored Francine during the depression that had ensued later so that she wouldn’t flunk out of school.
Lorelei had helped out much more recently, too. Francine hadn’t been happy with her husband for a long time, so Lorelei had allowed her to hang out at the house whenever she needed an escape, made her a bed on the couch so she could stay over if she and Allen were fighting and gave her a shoulder to cry on when they finally split up for good six months ago.
Of all people to betray her! Letting Francine come over so often had probably contributed to the problem, which made her feel even worse.
But Lorelei wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow what Francine and Mark had done to destroy her. She had to hang on for Lucy’s sake, no matter what kind of determination and sacrifice it required.
What other choice did she have?
She refused to let Lucy down the way Mark had.
She was determined to be the kind of mother she’d always wanted but never had.
* * *
serenity
“Serenity?”
At the sound of her name, Serenity rolled over and lifted her head. It was morning—maybe even late morning—but she’d never been one to drag herself out of bed early. She preferred to work late, when telephones and emails weren’t bombarding her from her publisher, readers and people who were providing research or documentation on the case she was currently writing about.
At night, she wasn’t as tempted by social media, either, which had become an important part of her promotion process. Without a following, she couldn’t continue to publish.