“Have you asked your dad for a pet?”
“We had rattlesnake for dinner last night. With peanuts.”
Something was going on here; Grace was throwing stuff at her, but why? Had the talk of Zach’s emotions scared her? Lexi said the only thing she could think of. “I ate ostrich once.”
“Wow.”
“So, your daddy’s not here?”
“Nope. I’m a big girl. I get to stay home alone all the time. I can take my own bath and everything. Last night I made dinner all by myself.”
“Does he go out a lot?”
Grace nodded.
Lexi studied her daughter’s gorgeous face, with its sad green eyes and pale skin, and wondered if she’d left any mark on this girl at all. “Do you have any friends at school?”
“F-friends?” Grace said, then grinned. “Tons. I’m the most pop’lar girl in the class.”
“You’re lucky. I was lonely sometimes in school,” Lexi said, watching her daughter closely. She couldn’t help herself; she took a step closer.
Grace’s lips trembled a little. “I really don’t have—”
“Grace!” someone yelled sharply. “Get in here. Now.”
Lexi jumped back into the trees. Peering around a shaggy green branch, she saw the cabin. The sliding glass door was open, and Miles stood there, frowning. He hadn’t seen Lexi, she was sure of it. So why did he sound so pissed?
“Grace, damn it,” he yelled again. “Get in here. Now.”
“Gotta go.” Grace popped to her feet.
“Does he always yell at you like that?”
Grace started to turn away, but Lexi dared to reach out and take hold of her girl’s hand. “I’d like to be your friend,” she said softly. It was hard to stop there. Suddenly there was so much more she had to say. She’d been a fool for thinking she could walk away from her daughter.
A smile broke over Grace’s face, its brightness warming Lexi. “Okay. Bye,” Grace said, waving. Then she turned and ran back for the house.
Lexi got up slowly. She understood at last how it felt to stop running.
She walked back to her bike, climbed aboard, and pedaled up the hill toward town.
An ambulance passed her, lights flashing, siren blaring, but she hardly noticed.
She was on her way to see Scot Jacobs.
Twenty-one
Jude was in the emergency ward of Seattle Hope. She lay in a narrow bed, connected to all kinds of monitors and machines and alarms, but it was all unnecessary. She hadn’t had a heart attack.
She looked up at her husband, feeling foolishly fragile. She’d broken so easily, again. “I thought all of that was behind me.”
He stroked the sweat-dampened hair away from her face. “So did I.”
“A panic attack.” She practically spit the words out.
Grace climbed up the metal bed rails. She slipped and plopped back to the floor, then climbed up again. The rattling clang reverberated through Jude’s tense body, made a headache blossom at the base of her skull. “What’s panic?” Grace asked, banging her chin against the bed rail.
“It means you’re scared,” Miles said.
“I saw a beach rat once. It was scary,” Grace said. “And those big hairy black spiders are scary. Did one crawl up your leg?”
“Nana’s really tired, Gracie,” Miles said. “Why don’t you read that book over there for a minute?”
“But I wanna know what scared Nana.”
“Not now, Gracie. Okay?” he said gently.
“Is it like when I had chicken pox and I just wanted sleep?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, Papa.” Grace slid down the side of the bed and shuffled over to the chair in the corner and sat down. She opened a tattered copy of The Cat in the Hat and tried to sound out the words.
Jude felt bad—shaky, headachy, sick to her stomach. “I’m losing it, Miles.”
“What do you mean?”
She loved the strong, steady movement of his hand through her hair. It calmed her more than any medication could. “I thought I saw her.”