Some Bright Someday (Maple Valley #2) - Melissa Tagg Page 0,10

Aunt Lauren’s cottage. A gushing wind grappled with the branches of the trees around the little stone house and a thin sheet of rain blurred her view.

But she could see enough. Movement. A glint of light.

She whirled.

“What is it?” Mara’s voice called after her.

“I’ll grab the cupcakes.” Sam hurried beside her. “You get the plates and napkins.”

“No, it’s not that.” She burst outside, a new chill sweeping in with the clouds overhead. She pointed past the unkept gardens, raindrops tapping on her shoulders. “Do you see that? Someone’s in the cottage.” She stepped off the patio, but Sam’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Yeah, I see it. You stay. Save the cupcakes. I’ll check it out.”

She pulled away and pitched forward, grass already growing damp and slick underneath her shoes as she headed toward the trees. “I’m sure it’s just a couple of bored teens looking for cheap entertainment, Sam. The last thing we need is the chief of police scaring them half to death.”

Even as the words left her mouth, she could feel a foolish, irrational hope bubbling up inside of her. She swiped at the rivulets running down her cheeks and picked up her pace.

Don’t let your thoughts go there. It’s not her.

“If it’s teens trespassing, isn’t a cop exactly what you need?” Sam’s voice rose over the increasing wind. She could hear Mara and Marshall following as well, and the huff of her own breath as her steps turned into a run.

Stop it. It’s not her. She didn’t even open the letter. She didn’t respond to a single email. Twenty-three years and not one word. She didn’t even say goodbye.

She nearly tripped over a sprawling, leafy vine at the edge of Mom’s garden, and as the rain thickened, it matted her hair to her face, caught in her eyelashes, and forced her to slow.

Until finally, she reached the arched wooden door, and despite the nagging voice of her logic, breathless words released in a gasp as she pushed inside. “Aunt Lauren?”

But it wasn’t her aunt who gaped at her from the center of the little room. Two small faces with wide, scared eyes—no, three, the third bundled in a blanket, encased in the arms of a girl who couldn’t be older than ten or eleven.

Sam came up beside her, breath heavy. “What in the—”

The baby’s wail cut him off.

Convincing the kids she’d found in Aunt Lauren’s cottage to come to the house had been hard enough. But getting them to talk? Nearly impossible.

Jenessa stood at the island counter in her parents’ kitchen, eyes glued to the two girls huddled together at the breakfast nook in the corner. She’d been wrong about the one who’d held the baby earlier—Colie. She’d thought the girl must be around ten years old, but in the few sparse sentences she’d offered, she’d discovered Colie was twelve.

Violet, who’d already tucked away two pieces of pepperoni pizza, was six. The baby, Cade, was nine months old. Mara held him now, perched on the bench across the girls with Marshall at her side, Cade’s small body scrunched against her chest and his head nestled against her shoulder, the both of them looking perfectly content.

Colie glanced to her younger brother in between every bite of pizza, as suspicious and protective as she’d been since the moment Jenessa had burst into the cottage.

Thunder rumbled outside the kitchen window, what had started as a light rain now a full-on storm. Wind hurled itself against the house.

“You should go change, Jen.” Sam’s voice was low beside her. “Put on some dry clothes.”

They’d managed to keep the kids from getting too wet on the hurried trek to the house, but Jenessa’s sweater still clung to her skin and moisture had seeped through her canvas shoes. “What do I do with them?” she whispered.

“Well, I think feeding them was a good start. Petey’s delivery had good timing, at least.”

Yes, it hadn’t taken more than a few minutes to figure out the kids hadn’t eaten since morning. Cade, at least, had apparently had a full bottle recently, but the girls . . .

Her gaze swept over them again—Colie’s stick-straight dark hair the opposite of Violet’s blond spirals, both girls thin and their clothing worn and faded. Violet happened to look up just then, her cheeks bulging. She swallowed then lifted one corner of her mouth in a shy half-smile.

Something warm and welcome spread through Jenessa, momentarily crowding out the chill of her wet clothing and her complete cluelessness as to what to