The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,9

fall out of her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to sit with all of her mother’s friends and pretend that she was perfectly fine.

Because even though her body had been healing, her mind seemed to be going down a different path.

And it was toward a terribly dark place.

Chapter 3

After Calvin returned, he stood in the aisle chatting with Lucy over a sleepy Katie. They were whispering; and though hunching down, he could hardly hear Lucy. After she’d repeated the same phrase three times, Calvin had had enough.

He picked up Katie and carefully laid her over their seats.

With bleary eyes, Katie looked around in confusion. “Sleep now, sister,” Calvin murmured. “I’ll be right behind ya.”

When her body relaxed and her eyes drifted closed, he finally took a place next to Lucy.

“This is much better,” he said. “My back was going to cramp into a dozen knots if I had to stoop the way I was for much longer.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t already,” she teased.

Her jest surprised him, and encouraged him as well. She was one of the most circumspect women he’d ever met. Lucy seemed unusually possessive over her words—guarding each one close to her heart before giving it up to him.

But perhaps that wasn’t true? She’d had no trouble amusing Katie when they listened for thunder . . . No, her skittishness seemed to be directed only his way.

Once again, he wondered why.

“I have to say, I’m mighty impressed with your sister. She seems to be able to sleep through most anything.”

“My parents would call that a blessing,” he replied. “She’s a late-in-life babe. Born seventeen years after my youngest brother, Graham.”

To his pleasure, she chuckled. “I imagine she was quite a surprise.”

“Oh, that is putting it mildly.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I have to admit that my brothers and I were a bit mystified by her appearance in our lives. We never imagined our parents were still, uh, enjoying the marriage bed.”

Her eyes widened.

And he wished he had a sock to stuff in his mouth. “I am sorry. Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t.”

Though her pretty cheeks turned pink, she shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m one of six children. My sisters and I have had that same conversation. I suppose some marriages are like that.”

Her last phrase was confusing. Calvin was going to ask her to clarify it, but the engine rattled again—and, in spite of his best intentions to act calm and assured, he jumped in alarm. He didn’t like things that were out of his control, and the goings-on of the giant train were certainly that. Now the faint scent of gasoline flowed though their car.

He’d followed an attendant with a flashlight when the lights had gone out in the dining car. Though most people had seemed determined to make the best of things and had declared they were fine with the battery-powered candles on the tables, he was not. He felt too out of control. Too out of his element. The motion of the train in the dark felt like the carnival ride he’d tried when his parents had taken them to the county fair when he was twelve.

Though he’d laughed like his brothers, his stomach had been in knots until he’d put his feet back on the ground. He liked things he could control.

And if he couldn’t control them, he at least liked to be able to see what was going on.

He’d felt too unsettled . . . and too concerned about his unexpected companion on the train. As quickly as he could, he had finished his cold roast beef sandwich and asked for help getting back to his seat.

And now he was sitting next to Lucy. Through the shadows, he felt her body tense as their silence lengthened.

“Did you find something to eat?”

The question didn’t matter, but the effort did, he supposed. “Jah. Though I paid too much for it, I suppose.”

“I found that to be true when I bought a sandwich on my first train.”

Struggling to continue their stilted conversation, he said, “When I traveled west, I brought several sandwiches with me. There was no way I could do that this time, not since we all went to a horse auction first before boarding the train.”

A beep and buzz overhead made Lucy jump. “Easy, now,” he murmured. “We’re safe.”

The lights flickered once, twice, then eventually clicked on for good.

Lucy exhaled. “At last!”

He smiled at her. “Ah, Lucy Troyer. It is gut to see you again.”

“Indeed,” she said, her lips