The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,26

what Paul’s reaction to her missing journal would have been. Because, surely, there could be nothing worse than that.

Whoever had found her journal had most likely thrown it away.

Her words would never be found. Never read.

And no one else would ever know just how glad she was that her husband was dead.

By his estimation, they had little more than an hour left of their journey.

Calvin was bored. Katie had fallen asleep, John was busy playing solitaire on his laptop computer, and Lucy, of course, was somewhere down the aisle.

Ignoring him.

Restless, he opened his backpack, searching for the newspaper. Then he noticed the book he’d picked up when it had slid down the aisle. He pulled it out and ran his hand across the leather binding.

Lucy’s journal.

The right thing to do would be to get up and go take it to her. But there was no doubt in his mind that she’d say he stole it, or some other such nonsense.

The book, with its tan leather cover, was a heavy thing.

Suddenly, he was curious about Lucy’s handwriting. Was it as prim and proper as the rest of her?

Somehow he was sure it would be. No doubt every letter would be painstakingly formed. She probably recorded each day’s weather and documented every minuscule event.

Giving in to temptation, he opened the journal in the middle. Just to see what her handwriting looked like. The pages inside were slightly rough, as if they’d been written on front and back with a pencil.

To his surprise, the writing was far from a neat and tidy cursive. Instead of perfectly formed letters, he found lazily sprawled sentences, some words running into the next, like she wrote in a hurry.

Or perhaps, without caring.

A flicker of unease went through him. He should close the cover immediately and walk it down the aisle to Lucy. The contents were definitely none of his business. What she wrote was personal.

He would be invading her privacy in the very worst way.

But still he looked.

I’m glad he’s dead. I don’t miss him. Sometimes—and I’m sorry, Lord—sometimes I wish he’d died sooner.

Stunned, Calvin slammed the book shut. Slipped the journal back in his backpack. Zipped it shut.

And closed his eyes, wishing he’d never picked up the journal.

But even with his eyes closed, Lucy’s words seemed to be permanently etched in his brain. How could someone so sweet have so much evil and anger inside of her?

How could a woman he admired even think such a sin?

It was troubling, indeed.

Chapter 11

One by one, weary passengers exited the train. Following the rest of the crowd, Lucy stepped onto the moving stairs toward the main level of the terminal. The snack bar was closed, and only a few people stood in line at the ticket counters.

Lucy slumped a bit as she stared around her. For a brief instant, she’d been looking for Mattie’s cheerful face. Aching for Mattie’s usual bright smile of welcome. Mattie had always arrived in Michigan exuberantly—her arms wide open for a fierce hug.

But it was a wishful thought, of course. Lucy had come to Ohio to take care of Mattie, not be greeted by her.

Calvin, whom she had studiously been ignoring the whole time, squeezed through the crowd and approached. Right behind him was his shadow. Katie looked terribly cute and prim in her black bonnet. John was trailing behind them, talking on his cell phone.

Lucy stopped and waited for them to approach.

“I’m glad you stopped,” Calvin said. “I thought I was going to have to chase you through the whole terminal.”

Lucy supposed she deserved that. “I’m glad we will have the chance to say goodbye to each other.” Lucy smiled at them both. “Well, I wish you well on the rest of your journey home.”

His lips thinned. “Well, I see whatever was bothering you is still with you, alive and well.”

“It’s not likely to leave, Calvin. I know what I saw.” Though a flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes, she pushed the slight feeling of guilt away.

She needed to remember just how kind Paul had been to her when they’d been courting. He’d been courteous and pleasant. And then, after she’d pledged to be his wife for life, he showed his true colors.

There was a good chance that Calvin was cut from the same cloth. And even if he wasn’t, they would most likely never see each other again. They would soon part.

For that matter, she didn’t need a man in her life at all. And most especially, not one with a