anything to her. I
never
do anything to her. But she hates me! She must, because she always attacks me. And I don’t like her all that much, either.” In the space of three seconds, the angry glint in her eyes changed. Her gaze seemed to travel his length,and bold red stained her cheeks. She folded her arms across her middle, hunched her shoulders, and turned sharply away.
Briley scowled, puzzled by her odd behavior, and finally the chill air brought realization. With his adrenaline pumping he’d forgotten he’d pulled on a pair of pajama pants in place of his jeans and had shed his shirt to watch TV. So he stood under the moonlight—under Alexa’s embarrassed gaze—only half dressed. In the past he’d taken advantage of opportunities to strike a pose and showcase his muscular form, but to his shock he only experienced a real rush of mortification. For her and for him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he inched toward the cottage door. “Well, since you’re all right, I’m—”
“Alexa!” A middle-aged woman—the nurse who showed up every evening—trotted across the yard toward the cottage. She’d had the sense to wear shoes and even put on a coat. And she carried a frying pan. He swallowed a snicker. The woman was armed for bear. Her gaze landed on Briley, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “We heard you scream. Are you all right? Did he—” She waved the frying pan.
Alexa darted to the nurse. “Pepper jumped on me and scared me. Of course Bri—Mr. Forrester—didn’t do anything to me. Except come to my rescue. I’m sorry I frightened you and Grandmother.” She looped her hand through the nurse’s elbow and steered her toward the house. “But it’s cold out here. Let’s go in.”
Pepper sidled close and leaned against Briley’s leg as the pair of women scurried off. Briley absently stroked the dog’s head. Had Alexa just defended him? He replayed her words
—“Of course Mr. Forrester didn’t do anything to me.”
Spoken staunchly. With a touch of you-should-know-better in her tone. She trusted him. The realization should please him, but instead an uneasy knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
Sommerfeld
Anna—Grace
If only this knot in her stomach would go away. Anna—Grace sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the sealed envelope leaning against the scrolled base of the accent lamp on her dresser. The bulb was on, sending down a triangular glow that seemed to spotlight the envelope and its neatly penned, simple line on the front:
For Anna—Grace
. Except she didn’t know if she wanted it.
During the night, each time she awoke—and she’d awakened every hour—the envelope seemed to mock her with its presence. With each awakening her thoughts bounced back and forth like a monkey she’d once seen in a zoo cage frenetically leaping from one corner to another in its attempt to find an escape hatch.
Just open it. Get it over with
.
Don’t open it. Throw it away
.
The same back-and-forth exchange roared through her mind again, nearly dizzying in its insistence. But which command to follow? Mom and Dad had told her to open it when she was ready. Would she ever be ready to discover the names of the people who’d cast her aside?
Strange how she’d never really thought about her birth parents when she was growing up. Little Sunny often talked about her Chinese mom and dad,asked questions, seemed to require assurance. But Anna—Grace had always been so secure, so loved. She’d simply accepted that the ones who raised her were her parents. Period. Maybe if she’d experienced curiosity before, the envelope would serve to satisfy her rather than confuse her.
A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. She called wearily, “Come in.” The door opened and Mom peeked her head in. Furrows marched across her forehead and formed a V between her eyebrows. Anna—Grace hated that she’d put the look of worry on her mother’s normally relaxed face.
A slight smile trembled on
never
do anything to her. But she hates me! She must, because she always attacks me. And I don’t like her all that much, either.” In the space of three seconds, the angry glint in her eyes changed. Her gaze seemed to travel his length,and bold red stained her cheeks. She folded her arms across her middle, hunched her shoulders, and turned sharply away.
Briley scowled, puzzled by her odd behavior, and finally the chill air brought realization. With his adrenaline pumping he’d forgotten he’d pulled on a pair of pajama pants in place of his jeans and had shed his shirt to watch TV. So he stood under the moonlight—under Alexa’s embarrassed gaze—only half dressed. In the past he’d taken advantage of opportunities to strike a pose and showcase his muscular form, but to his shock he only experienced a real rush of mortification. For her and for him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he inched toward the cottage door. “Well, since you’re all right, I’m—”
“Alexa!” A middle-aged woman—the nurse who showed up every evening—trotted across the yard toward the cottage. She’d had the sense to wear shoes and even put on a coat. And she carried a frying pan. He swallowed a snicker. The woman was armed for bear. Her gaze landed on Briley, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “We heard you scream. Are you all right? Did he—” She waved the frying pan.
Alexa darted to the nurse. “Pepper jumped on me and scared me. Of course Bri—Mr. Forrester—didn’t do anything to me. Except come to my rescue. I’m sorry I frightened you and Grandmother.” She looped her hand through the nurse’s elbow and steered her toward the house. “But it’s cold out here. Let’s go in.”
Pepper sidled close and leaned against Briley’s leg as the pair of women scurried off. Briley absently stroked the dog’s head. Had Alexa just defended him? He replayed her words
—“Of course Mr. Forrester didn’t do anything to me.”
Spoken staunchly. With a touch of you-should-know-better in her tone. She trusted him. The realization should please him, but instead an uneasy knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
Sommerfeld
Anna—Grace
If only this knot in her stomach would go away. Anna—Grace sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the sealed envelope leaning against the scrolled base of the accent lamp on her dresser. The bulb was on, sending down a triangular glow that seemed to spotlight the envelope and its neatly penned, simple line on the front:
For Anna—Grace
. Except she didn’t know if she wanted it.
During the night, each time she awoke—and she’d awakened every hour—the envelope seemed to mock her with its presence. With each awakening her thoughts bounced back and forth like a monkey she’d once seen in a zoo cage frenetically leaping from one corner to another in its attempt to find an escape hatch.
Just open it. Get it over with
.
Don’t open it. Throw it away
.
The same back-and-forth exchange roared through her mind again, nearly dizzying in its insistence. But which command to follow? Mom and Dad had told her to open it when she was ready. Would she ever be ready to discover the names of the people who’d cast her aside?
Strange how she’d never really thought about her birth parents when she was growing up. Little Sunny often talked about her Chinese mom and dad,asked questions, seemed to require assurance. But Anna—Grace had always been so secure, so loved. She’d simply accepted that the ones who raised her were her parents. Period. Maybe if she’d experienced curiosity before, the envelope would serve to satisfy her rather than confuse her.
A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. She called wearily, “Come in.” The door opened and Mom peeked her head in. Furrows marched across her forehead and formed a V between her eyebrows. Anna—Grace hated that she’d put the look of worry on her mother’s normally relaxed face.
A slight smile trembled on
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