Kara stopped the still-turning mobile that dangled high above Casey’s slack face. Baby drool edged from her droopy bottom lip, perhaps a sign of a first tooth on its way. One sweet dimpled arm lay across the stuffed dolly that had once belonged to Kara. Kara had gotten Rainy Rosie and her little yellow raincoat in an Easter basket during fourth grade and kept her in a memory box for years before Casey was born. Now, Rosie was gnawed on endlessly by her precious daughter. Kara suppressed a chuckle and slid back into the hallway, tugging the door nearly closed behind her.
The trip back downstairs seemed endless, like a dream hallway that grew longer with every step. Maybe tonight was a good night to sleep in the nursery. She’d fallen asleep in the glider many times before. She could bring a glass of water and a book. Let sleep take her at will.
Kara flipped the light switches and tugged the lamp chains one by one as she shut the house down for the night. Coffeepot off. She poured a glass of water and tucked a worn paperback under one bent arm, then grabbed the baby monitor from the counter. She liked her plan more and more by the second. Locked inside the nursery, she and Casey would be together, and they would be safe. Tomorrow was a new day, and tonight’s fears would likely seem as silly as they really were.
She checked the door lock once more and peeked through the front window for the last time. Breath caught in her throat as a tiny movement registered across the street. The glass of water jostled in her trembling hand. Kara shut her eyes and whispered, “It’s nothing, there’s nothing there, it’s okay, you’re okay.” She reopened her lids and gave the darkened street another cautious look.
Slowly, the shadow of a man peeled away from a broad oak tree and started a path in her direction.
Kara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She pressed a hand to her constricting chest and willed herself to think. The man at the park had been big. He’d had at least fifty pounds on her, and she was out of shape. If he managed to get through the door, no one would see. At least at the park there were a hundred witnesses. Here, alone in her darkened house... Every self-defense move she’d ever learned was gone. Vanished. She could only think of how to escape, keep Casey safe and get away if the man tried to force his way inside.
Heavy footfalls clomped up her porch steps, vibrating through her soul. Where was that extra patrolman West had promised her? West! Kara pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed the personal number he’d left with her earlier.
She prayed softly against the phone receiver as the knocking began.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. She pressed her back against the warm wooden door for strength and willed West to answer his darn phone.
The knocks behind her came lightly at first, cautiously, and grew steadily more insistent. Her interior lights were already off. Maybe whoever was on her porch would assume no one was home and go away. The nagging possibility she was being paranoid began to creep in. She hadn’t gotten a clean look at the man crossing her street. It could be anyone. Maybe she was overreacting. Then again, whoever was out there at this hour was probably up to no good. Man from the park, or someone else. Didn’t matter. It was far too late for visiting. Besides, who could it even be? No man had climbed her steps in a year. Figurative or otherwise.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. The call connected and Kara gasped. Tears of relief blurred her vision.
“Garrett,” West answered, a bubble of laughter in his voice. Country music mingled with sounds of a crowd in the background.
“West?” she whispered, cupping her hands protectively around the phone. Not wanting to be heard by the man outside her door. “There’s someone on my porch and I’m freaking out.”
The background sounds grew silent. “Kara?” West’s voice was sharp now, followed by the distinct snick of a closing door. “What’s going on?”
She swallowed a yelp as the knocking grew into pounding against her spine. “Someone’s here.” The quiver troubling her limbs infiltrated her voice.
Kara swung her attention to the stairwell. She could be upstairs in twenty seconds, and at the backdoor with Casey in thirty more. Could the man on her porch break down the door in less time than that? What if he predicted her move and was at the back door when she got there?
“Sit tight,” West said with utter Garrett-like confidence. “I’m sending someone to you. Give me five minutes to route him your way.”
“Okay.” Her darting gaze landed on the hearth. “I might hit him with a fireplace poker.”
“Tell you what. Anyone comes through that door without an invitation, and you’ve got my support in doing whatever you want to him,” he huffed. “He’s not responding.”
“Your deputy?” Kara squeaked. Could the man on her porch have taken out the patrolling deputy?
The knocking stalled, and a new kind of fear clawed through her. At least while he was knocking, she knew where he was. A shadow fell over her front window and the silhouette of a man came into view. “Kara?”
The voice of a ghost permeated her glass. It twisted her core and squeezed her lungs. A strangled noise rose from her parted lips.
“Oh, my goodness.” Slowly, she moved away from the door, eyes wide, jaw heavy.
“What?” West barked.
“Kara? Open up,” the voice continued, more pleading than stern despite the sharp edge to his words.
She turned the deadbolt and opened the door with bated breath.
“Kara!” West hollered through the forgotten phone in her hand.
“It’s you,” she breathed.
Ryder Garrett, the ghost of love lost, stood before her in an arch of porch lighting. Hat in hands, he dipped his chin in greeting. “Hello, Kara.”
* * *
RYDER REACHED FOR her phone and spoke briefly to his brother in acronyms and grunts before returning the phone to Kara.
Kara batted dazed eyes at Ryder before inviting him into their formerly shared home. He accepted with a nod and tried not to wonder what her expression meant, exactly.
She worked her mouth closed, still openly staring at him.
He tried not to return the favor, which wasn’t easy. Kara was striking. He hadn’t blown her out of proportion in his mind. She really was the kind of woman who could walk down the street and cause a ten-truck pileup. Her pale blue eyes were lined in thick, curled lashes. Her cheeks and lips were naturally pink, though at the moment they were both slightly white from shock. He ached to kiss the line of freckles spilled over her nose. The ones she tried desperately to hide with makeup when they’d gone out for special occasions. He curled his fingers at his side, reminding himself not to touch her. He couldn’t do that anymore. It was a privilege he’d lost long ago.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally snapping back to life. She twisted the deadbolt and turned the lock on her doorknob before checking the window.
Did she really think any of that was necessary with him there?
He scanned the vaguely familiar room. Unlike Kara, the home was much different than he remembered. A giant mirror graced the wall above the fireplace where his massive mounted trout had once hung. Their engagement photos and candid snapshots had been replaced with selfies of Kara and an infant. He shook his head. The moment was surreal. It was his home, but it wasn’t. She was his girl, but she wasn’t. And the baby. Well, she hadn’t existed to him until three hours ago.
Kara cleared her throat. “Well?”
Ryder forced a comforting smile.