“Allen, she hired a full-time employee, some stranger to work our store. He could rob us blind. Or worse.”
A twinge of concern inched its way up Nicki’s spine. Her mother wasn’t wrong. She had hired a stranger. But her father was right; she did have good instincts about people. Except when she married them. Then she was a complete idiot. She’d fallen for Brad’s charm and his wealth, blithely ignoring the little twinges of doubt until it was too late. But her impression of Ethan was different. She had some questions about him, but she just knew he wasn’t a crook.
“Mom, I called Jim Barrett and he vouched for Ethan.”
Her mother huffed and shook her head. “I don’t like this.”
Nicki exchanged glances with her father. “Mom, I need help at the store. I can’t run it alone. You have to take care of Dad, and he’s got weeks of recovery ahead. What would you like me to do?”
Her mother turned to glare at her. “What do you know about this man?”
“He’s experienced in retail and he can work the hours I gave him. That’s all I need to know right now.” She’d been impressed with Ethan. He’d worked diligently, caught on quickly and only approached her a couple of times with questions regarding the pricing of the merchandise. He looked her in the eyes when he spoke and left the stockroom neat and tidy at the end of the day.
“For all you know, he could be the one robbing the stores downtown.”
Allen Latimer peered over his glasses at his wife, a sure sign he was becoming irritated. “Myra, let the girl do her job. She has her hands full with our granddaughter and our business. Don’t make things worse.”
“Fine. But if one thing is missing from our inventory...” She turned back to the sink, her shoulders stiff with displeasure.
Nicki moved to the baby bouncer on the counter and unbuckled her fussy daughter’s safety strap. She took the little girl into her arms, cradling her close and kissing her cheek, reveling in the new-baby smell. She gave Sadie her bottle, smiling at the sweet little sounds she made as she ate, gently bouncing her as she walked into her parents’ living room and settled down in the rocker.
She looked forward to this time of day, holding Sadie in her arms as she ate, talking to her, sharing her big plans for their future. From the moment the nurse had placed Sadie in her arms, she’d realized she’d found what she’d been looking for all her life. Something that gave her purpose and happiness—being a mom.
The only thing missing was her independence. She’d planned on striking out on her own once Sadie was born, but that plan had been complicated by her father’s kidney transplant and a mountain of red tape with Brad’s estate. As soon as she took care of things here, she’d find a job and leave Dover behind.
Nicki glanced up when her dad stood beside the rocker. He gently stroked Sadie’s little head.
“She’s beautiful. Like her momma.”
Her daddy had always been her biggest cheerleader. She didn’t like keeping things from him, but after realizing the dire financial situation Latimer’s was in, she’d called her friend Gary Palmer to go over the books for her. She hadn’t told her father what she’d done for fear of upsetting him. She didn’t want to risk a setback. Still, her concern warred with her conscience. What if keeping her dad in the dark only upset him more?
“Dad, about the business...”
Her dad patted her shoulder. “I know. Business has fallen off since Office Mart opened over in Sawyer’s Bend. But I’ve made arrangements to transfer some funds to get things back on track. I meant to do it sooner, but then the transplant donor was found, and I never followed up. You do what you think is best for the store. But let’s keep this between you and me. I don’t want to upset your mother.” He rubbed his forehead. “You know, pumpkin, we’re happy to have you back home, and that little darling is our treasure, but I never planned for you to have to take over the store. I’m only sorry this health thing of mine has messed up everything.”
Nicki’s heart ached. “Oh, Daddy, you haven’t messed anything up. I’m glad I was here to help. Besides, I like having something to do every day.” For too many years, she’d been denied that choice.
Her father eyed her closely. She could never deceive him. He always knew when she was keeping things hidden, and right now she was hiding a lot.
“Nicki, honey, why did you come home so suddenly, and why didn’t you bother to attend your own husband’s funeral?”
Shame and guilt washed over her. She focused her gaze on Sadie, who had nearly emptied her bottle. How could she explain the past two years to her parents? They would never understand. Her mother thought Brad had hung the moon. Wealthy, charming, handsome and successful. Everything she’d hoped for her daughter. How could she tell her that Brad had turned out to be a white-collar criminal, that he’d died in a plane crash while attempting to flee the country? And how did she explain that she was broke because Brad’s assets were tied up in a federal investigation?
Her dad touched her cheek gently. “When you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here.”
All she could do was nod. She could barely come to terms with how she—an intelligent, educated woman—had been so foolish and gullible. She’d lost herself in her relationship with her husband. Now she had to figure out who she was and who she wanted to be.
Ethan shook the hand of Reverend Stoddard, uttered a few polite phrases and stepped outside into the Sunday morning sunshine. Two different sermons today had provided plenty of spiritual strengthening. He’d attended Peace Community’s early service, eager to hear Jim Barrett preach. Then after a quick cup of coffee and a sweet roll at the Magnolia Café, he’d crossed the park and attended the late service at Hope Chapel. He’d enjoyed both services, but if he was going to join the PTSD group that Jim had referred him to here, he needed to support the church. That meant attending Hope Chapel on a regular basis.
As he took the steps down to the sidewalk, someone called his name. He looked around to see a giant of a man coming toward him, hand outstretched and a friendly smile on his face.
“You’re Ethan Stone, aren’t you? I’m Ron Morrison. Jim Barrett told me about you.”
He nodded and shook the man’s hand. Ethan stood an inch over six feet, but Ron’s bulk made him feel short. Ron ran the only PTSD support group in Dover. “How did you know who I was?”
“Jim Barrett gave me a good description. Besides, I know the look.”
Ethan smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
Ron gestured toward the sidewalk. “Why don’t we go over here and talk, if you have the time?”
Ethan fell into step beside him until he stopped at a dark blue Silverado parked at the curb near the end of the block.
Ron pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ethan. “We meet every Wednesday night in a room off the church gym. It’s not a large group. We average around five men, sometimes up to eight or ten. There’s no pressure to talk or share. You do that when you’re ready, or not at all. I just wanted you to know you’re welcome, and we’re here if you need us.”
The card had Ron’s number and the church’s office number. He’d made a lot of progress in the past ten months. The flashbacks were under control, even though they still lurked in the dark edges of his mind, and it had been months since he’d had a nightmare. But he also knew ongoing support was vital. Paul had taught him to take it one step at a time. Face one fear at a time. He planned on following his friend’s advice. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Ron shook his hand. “We’re all in this together. Don’t forget that.”
Ethan