network nonsense. She certainly didn’t want to have to avoid reporting a crime just to keep Flint’s nose out of her personal life.
By the time she was dressed, she’d decided that angry confrontation was not the best approach. Instead, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. Enough for three.
Then Maggie put on her jacket, finger-combed her hair and headed for the confab in the driveway. No way was she going to let Flint and the sheriff get away with keeping her in the dark. Whatever was going on was just as much her problem as theirs.
Her breath hitched as she quietly eased the front door closed behind her. It was more her problem. She had Mark’s future to worry about. God willing, she’d make it through these current attacks and live to see him grow to adulthood.
And if not? she asked herself, realizing it was a justifiable question. “If something happens to me, Father,” she prayed, “please take care of my son.”
Had God already answered that plea by bringing his father into the picture? Maggie wondered.
She stood tall, gathered her courage and started down the porch steps.
* * *
Harlan leaned out his car window and gestured with his chin. “Heads up. Trouble’s on the way.”
“So I see. I’m kind of surprised she’d come out after you said she was so scared earlier.”
“Nothing about Miz Maggie Morgan surprises me,” the sheriff said. “She’s quite a gal.”
Flint didn’t know how to respond without sounding infatuated, so he just nodded.
“Think about it. There she is, a pregnant teenager with nobody to love her, a dying daddy, a flaky mother and an uncle with a police record as long as your arm. Did she run? Or hide? Nope. She got herself a job and worked as long as she could, then moved in with her widowed mama in order to survive while she took college courses by computer.”
“I didn’t know that,” Flint said. He was watching her approach in the side mirror of his truck.
“There’s probably a lot you don’t know,” Harlan huffed. “But I get the idea you’re about to learn more.”
“Yeah. I’ll pull forward and park. You’re staying, aren’t you?”
That made the older man chuckle. “Why? You ain’t scared of a little thing like Maggie, are you?”
Flint grinned back at him. “Terrified.”
* * *
At first, it upset Maggie to think Flint was leaving. When he parked and got out, however, she didn’t know whether or not to be glad.
“I put on a big pot of fresh coffee,” she called, careful to include the sheriff. “Why don’t we go inside and drink it instead of you guys sitting out here in your cars?” She chaffed her palms. “It’s freezing.”
“Predictions of snow for next week,” Harlan said, ambling over to join her. “Got any pancakes to go with that coffee?”
“I might be able to scare some up.” Maggie smiled at him, then diverted her gaze to Flint and quipped, “Even if you bring him.”
The lighthearted diversion apparently worked, because Flint’s shoulders began to relax and his walk seemed less awkward. Would they ever regain the easy camaraderie they had once shared? She doubted it.
Maggie paused at the front door, briefly blocking the way. “Shush. The boys are asleep and I’d like them to stay that way.”
Both men nodded. In the glow from the porch light, the green of Flint’s eyes looked exactly like Mark’s. The more she saw of this man, the more she associated him with their son. Part of her problem was undoubtedly that she loved her little boy so totally. The difficulty came when her heart and mind applied those same emotions to Flint.
The kitchen was welcomingly warm. Maggie shed her jacket and left the men to find themselves comfortable seats at the table while she filled three mugs and delivered them.
Sighing, she smiled at Harlan. “One cup of coffee first and then I’ll start your pancakes, Sheriff. I just need to wake myself up a little more.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flint wrap
By the time she was dressed, she’d decided that angry confrontation was not the best approach. Instead, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. Enough for three.
Then Maggie put on her jacket, finger-combed her hair and headed for the confab in the driveway. No way was she going to let Flint and the sheriff get away with keeping her in the dark. Whatever was going on was just as much her problem as theirs.
Her breath hitched as she quietly eased the front door closed behind her. It was more her problem. She had Mark’s future to worry about. God willing, she’d make it through these current attacks and live to see him grow to adulthood.
And if not? she asked herself, realizing it was a justifiable question. “If something happens to me, Father,” she prayed, “please take care of my son.”
Had God already answered that plea by bringing his father into the picture? Maggie wondered.
She stood tall, gathered her courage and started down the porch steps.
* * *
Harlan leaned out his car window and gestured with his chin. “Heads up. Trouble’s on the way.”
“So I see. I’m kind of surprised she’d come out after you said she was so scared earlier.”
“Nothing about Miz Maggie Morgan surprises me,” the sheriff said. “She’s quite a gal.”
Flint didn’t know how to respond without sounding infatuated, so he just nodded.
“Think about it. There she is, a pregnant teenager with nobody to love her, a dying daddy, a flaky mother and an uncle with a police record as long as your arm. Did she run? Or hide? Nope. She got herself a job and worked as long as she could, then moved in with her widowed mama in order to survive while she took college courses by computer.”
“I didn’t know that,” Flint said. He was watching her approach in the side mirror of his truck.
“There’s probably a lot you don’t know,” Harlan huffed. “But I get the idea you’re about to learn more.”
“Yeah. I’ll pull forward and park. You’re staying, aren’t you?”
That made the older man chuckle. “Why? You ain’t scared of a little thing like Maggie, are you?”
Flint grinned back at him. “Terrified.”
* * *
At first, it upset Maggie to think Flint was leaving. When he parked and got out, however, she didn’t know whether or not to be glad.
“I put on a big pot of fresh coffee,” she called, careful to include the sheriff. “Why don’t we go inside and drink it instead of you guys sitting out here in your cars?” She chaffed her palms. “It’s freezing.”
“Predictions of snow for next week,” Harlan said, ambling over to join her. “Got any pancakes to go with that coffee?”
“I might be able to scare some up.” Maggie smiled at him, then diverted her gaze to Flint and quipped, “Even if you bring him.”
The lighthearted diversion apparently worked, because Flint’s shoulders began to relax and his walk seemed less awkward. Would they ever regain the easy camaraderie they had once shared? She doubted it.
Maggie paused at the front door, briefly blocking the way. “Shush. The boys are asleep and I’d like them to stay that way.”
Both men nodded. In the glow from the porch light, the green of Flint’s eyes looked exactly like Mark’s. The more she saw of this man, the more she associated him with their son. Part of her problem was undoubtedly that she loved her little boy so totally. The difficulty came when her heart and mind applied those same emotions to Flint.
The kitchen was welcomingly warm. Maggie shed her jacket and left the men to find themselves comfortable seats at the table while she filled three mugs and delivered them.
Sighing, she smiled at Harlan. “One cup of coffee first and then I’ll start your pancakes, Sheriff. I just need to wake myself up a little more.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flint wrap
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