A Cry In the Night by Mary Higgins Clark Page B

through the sermon he whispered, “You’re beautiful, Jenny. Everybody is looking at you and the girls.”
    After the service he introduced her to Pastor Barstrom, a slight man in his late sixties with a gentle face. “We’re happy to have you with us, Jenny,” he said warmly. He looked down at the girls. “Now who’s Beth and who’s Tina?”
    â€œYou know their names,” Jenny commented, pleased.
    â€œIndeed I do. Erich told me all about you when he stopped by the parsonage. I hope you realize what a very generous husband you have. Thanks to him our new senior citizen center will be very comfortable and well-equipped. I’ve known Erich since he was a boy and we’re all very happy for him now.”
    â€œI’m mighty happy too,” Jenny smiled.
    â€œThere’s a meeting of the women in the parish Thursday night. Perhaps you’d like to join them? We want to get to know you.”
    â€œI’d love to,” Jenny agreed.
    â€œDarling, we’d better start,” Erich said. “There are others who want to visit with the pastor.”
    â€œOf course.” As she extended her hand, the pastor said, “It certainly must have been very difficult for you to be widowed so young with such little babies, Jenny. Both you and Erich are surely deserving of much good fortune and many blessings now.”
    Erich propelled her forward before she could do more than gasp. In the car she exclaimed, “Erich, surely you didn’t tell Pastor Barstrom that I was widowed, did you?”
    Erich steered the car from the curb. “Jenny, Granite Place isn’t New York. It’s a small town in the Midwest. People around here were shocked to hear I was getting married a month after I met you. At least a young widow is a sympathetic image; a New York divorcée says something quite different in this community. And I never exactly said you were a widow. I told Pastor Barstrom you had lost your husband. He surmised the rest.”
    â€œSo you didn’t lie but in effect I’ve lied for you by not correcting him,” Jenny said. “Erich, don’t you understand the kind of position that places me in?”
    â€œNo, I don’t, dear. And I won’t have people around here wondering if I had my head turned by a sophisticated New Yorker taking advantage of a hayseed.”
    Erich had a mortal fear of looking ridiculous, so much so that he would lie to his clergyman to avoid the possibility.
    â€œErich, I will have to tell Pastor Barstrom the truth when I go to the meeting Thursday night.”
    â€œI’ll be gone Thursday.”
    â€œI know. That’s why I think it would be pleasant to be there. I’d like to meet the people around here.”
    â€œAre you planning to leave the children alone?”
    â€œOf course not. Surely there are baby-sitters?”
    â€œSurely you don’t intend to leave the children with just anyone?”
    â€œPastor Barstrom could recommend . . .”
    â€œJenny, please wait. Don’t start getting involved in activities. And don’t tell Pastor Barstrom you’re adivorcée. Knowing him, he’ll never bring up the subject again unless you introduce it.”
    â€œBut why do you object to my going?”
    Erich took his eyes from the road and looked at her. “Because I love you so much I’m not ready to share you with other people, Jenny. I won’t share you with anyone, Jenny.”

11

    E rich was leaving for Atlanta on February 23. On the twenty-first, he told Jenny he had an errand to do and would be late for lunch. It was nearly one-thirty when he returned. “Come over to the stable,” he invited. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Grabbing a jacket, she ran out with him.
    Mark Garrett was waiting there, smiling broadly. “Meet the new tenants,” he said.
    Two Shetland ponies stood side by side in the stalls nearest the