The Wonder of Your Love - By Beth Wiseman Page 0,72

plate, then brewed a cup of tea. Once she was back in her recliner, she was wishing she had a nice fire in the fireplace, but that just seemed like too much work. She clicked on the television, put her feet on her ottoman, and savored the delicious coffee cake.

“Reruns. All reruns.” She flipped between channels on the television, finally settling on an old John Wayne movie that was nearing the end. She had twenty good minutes of television before the movie ended, and after another round of channel changing, she turned the TV off. Too early to go to bed, but her eyes were heavy. Leaning her head back against the chair, she knew she needed to get to her bedroom before she fell asleep in the recliner. Suddenly, a noise upstairs caused her eyes to bolt open and sent a chill up her spine. She held her breath, trying to identify what she’d heard. Had something fallen over?

Her heart thumped, and she stared at the ceiling as her eyes followed the sound above her head. She recalled the time a squirrel had tried to take possession of her upstairs. She’d had to call David to come get the furry creature outside again. But this sounded larger. Maybe a raccoon. And she knew raccoons could be mean little fellows.

She eased out of her chair, quiet as a mouse, then tiptoed to the kitchen. Once she’d located the broom, she headed toward the stairs, armed and ready to meet her intruder. But when she flung the door open to her extra bedroom and flipped the light switch, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

And so did Danielle.

Fifteen

MARTHA EDGED FORWARD WITH THE BRISTLY END of the broom, poised and ready to pounce. As she made a hissing noise, she pushed the broom within a few inches of the girl.

Danielle stepped backward until she was standing up against the dresser. “Stop it! Are you crazy?”

Martha didn’t lower the broom. “With all due respect, missy . . . you are the one who has broken into my house, and . . .” She saw her favorite jasmine vanilla lotion on the top of the dresser . . . next to a half-eaten loaf of garlic bread. She narrowed her brows and scowled. “What are you doing up here?”

Danielle shifted her weight, and Martha noticed that both eyes were wide open and the stitches on her cheek were gone, leaving a red mark down the side of her face. Her bottom lip was still swollen on one side.

“If you’ll just move that broom, I’ll leave.”

Martha raised her chin. “No. You answer the question. What are you doing up here?” Now Martha noticed a bag of Fritos, two of her colas, and three dirty dishes on the floor by the bed. “And exactly how long have you been here?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe a few days. Maybe longer.”

Martha thought she might fall over. “So I’ve been sleeping in my bed downstairs while a thief has been living above me.”

She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m not a thief!” Danielle clenched her fists.

Martha nodded to the pile by the bed. “Oh, really. Then what do you call that? Were you gonna leave an IOU?”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

Martha lowered the broom and held it like a pitchfork by her side. “Fine.” She held out her free hand, palm up. “Pay up.”

“I—I’ll have to go get the money and bring it back to you.”

Martha laughed. “Sure you will.” She walked to the bed and sat down atop the pine green bedspread she’d had since the sixties. She rubbed her forehead for a minute. “How’d you know where to find me?” She sat taller and frowned. “And why did you come here?”

Danielle shrugged. She was a petite little thing, and leaning up against the dresser, her wounds still not completely healed, she didn’t seem very threatening. But surely Martha deserved to know why the child had taken refuge in her upstairs.

“If you don’t want me to call the cops, I suggest you start talking.”

“I’ll leave. I’m sorry.” She edged toward the door.

“Danielle, wait.” Martha stood up, and slowly Danielle turned around. “Are you hiding from someone? From whoever did that to you?”

“I gotta go.”

Danielle rounded the corner, and without giving it much thought, Martha yelled the first thing that came to mind.

“You can stay if you want!”

Martha waited, and she heard the footsteps on the stairs stop. A moment later Danielle crept back over the threshold. “Why would you let