years! And then, the sudden sharp memory of their little walk from Riggin’s bar to Wade’s car assailed her.
Dana struggled to keep her breathing in check as she remembered the feel of his hand around her nape, the brush of his fingers against her skin. Liquid heat surged through her. She pictured his mouth, focusing on an image of that full sensuous lower lip of his and for the first time ever, she wondered what it would be like to nibble on it. To taste him.
For the first time, she imagined the feel of his lips on hers. In her mind’s eye she could see it happening, his head lowering to hers, his mouth moving closer and touching hers, gently, softly at first and then …
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dana’s voice rose to a breathless squeak, but she persevered. “The stupidest thing Tricia’s ever said. In fact, it goes way beyond stupid, it’s right up there in the pantheon of—of—” Her mind went blank.
“Uh, stupidity?” Katie’s blond friend suggested helpfully.
“Yes!” snarled Dana.
“Oh.” Katie shrugged. “So then what did he do?”
“What?” Dana stared at her, eyes glazed and uncomprehending.
“What did Wade do to make you so mad?” Katie pressed, a little impatiently.
“Nothing!” Dana flung open the front door. “He didn’t do a thing. And I’m not mad!”
Katie and her friend exchanged glances. Their laughter followed Dana as she stomped into the house. It rang in her ears the whole way upstairs to her bedroom, which sheused to share with Mary Jo and the traitorous Tricia. Now she had it all to herself.
The moment she closed the door behind her, she burst into tears.
5
Q uint finished his dinner of fried eggs and bacon—his low cholesterol level was a physician’s dream, eliminating any dietary restrictions—and stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. He glanced up at the kitchen clock, then at his watch, which confirmed the time on the clock.
It was a few minutes past seven, and the questions he’d managed to hold at bay broke through his wall of reasonable excuses. Where were Brady and Sarah? Why hadn’t she called to inform him of their whereabouts, like she always did? Should he phone the Sheelys and ask if they were there?
Until now, he’d assured himself that they were. Sarah took Brady to her family’s house for dinner several times a week and Quint used those days to work late, arriving home in time to put his son to bed.
The lack of the phone call today had nagged at him, but he hadn’t permitted himself to dwell on it. He was a great believer in Occam’s Razor, the scientific and philosophical rule which maintained that the simplest explanation was the most likely. Simple logic decreed that Sarah had taken Brady to the Sheelys, as usual.
However … Quint purposefully steered his thoughts away from all those alarming
howevers
.
He’d never been prone to hysterical conjecture; that was Carla’s province, she was the queen of it. Maybe that was why he’d been able to stifle his worrisome parental doubtsuntil now. After the hours spent in Carla’s company today—where hysterical conjecture ruled supreme—he wasn’t about to succumb to more of the same.
But now it was past seven o’clock. Sarah never stayed with Brady at the Sheelys that late because his bedtime was seven-thirty, and a bath and bedtime story always preceded it. He could think of no simple logical explanation for their continued unexplained absence.
There were always those sickening exceptions to Occam’s Razor, the gruesome stories that dominated the newscasts when the unthinkable actually did happen. One of those terrible exceptions had changed his life one night, the night his mother’s and sister’s lives had been ended.
Rigid and tense, he dialed the Sheelys’ number. It was busy. Naturally. Quint heaved an exasperated sigh. Young Emily was ignoring Call Waiting again. He knew that Sarah circumvented Emily’s own circumvention by calling
Dana struggled to keep her breathing in check as she remembered the feel of his hand around her nape, the brush of his fingers against her skin. Liquid heat surged through her. She pictured his mouth, focusing on an image of that full sensuous lower lip of his and for the first time ever, she wondered what it would be like to nibble on it. To taste him.
For the first time, she imagined the feel of his lips on hers. In her mind’s eye she could see it happening, his head lowering to hers, his mouth moving closer and touching hers, gently, softly at first and then …
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dana’s voice rose to a breathless squeak, but she persevered. “The stupidest thing Tricia’s ever said. In fact, it goes way beyond stupid, it’s right up there in the pantheon of—of—” Her mind went blank.
“Uh, stupidity?” Katie’s blond friend suggested helpfully.
“Yes!” snarled Dana.
“Oh.” Katie shrugged. “So then what did he do?”
“What?” Dana stared at her, eyes glazed and uncomprehending.
“What did Wade do to make you so mad?” Katie pressed, a little impatiently.
“Nothing!” Dana flung open the front door. “He didn’t do a thing. And I’m not mad!”
Katie and her friend exchanged glances. Their laughter followed Dana as she stomped into the house. It rang in her ears the whole way upstairs to her bedroom, which sheused to share with Mary Jo and the traitorous Tricia. Now she had it all to herself.
The moment she closed the door behind her, she burst into tears.
5
Q uint finished his dinner of fried eggs and bacon—his low cholesterol level was a physician’s dream, eliminating any dietary restrictions—and stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. He glanced up at the kitchen clock, then at his watch, which confirmed the time on the clock.
It was a few minutes past seven, and the questions he’d managed to hold at bay broke through his wall of reasonable excuses. Where were Brady and Sarah? Why hadn’t she called to inform him of their whereabouts, like she always did? Should he phone the Sheelys and ask if they were there?
Until now, he’d assured himself that they were. Sarah took Brady to her family’s house for dinner several times a week and Quint used those days to work late, arriving home in time to put his son to bed.
The lack of the phone call today had nagged at him, but he hadn’t permitted himself to dwell on it. He was a great believer in Occam’s Razor, the scientific and philosophical rule which maintained that the simplest explanation was the most likely. Simple logic decreed that Sarah had taken Brady to the Sheelys, as usual.
However … Quint purposefully steered his thoughts away from all those alarming
howevers
.
He’d never been prone to hysterical conjecture; that was Carla’s province, she was the queen of it. Maybe that was why he’d been able to stifle his worrisome parental doubtsuntil now. After the hours spent in Carla’s company today—where hysterical conjecture ruled supreme—he wasn’t about to succumb to more of the same.
But now it was past seven o’clock. Sarah never stayed with Brady at the Sheelys that late because his bedtime was seven-thirty, and a bath and bedtime story always preceded it. He could think of no simple logical explanation for their continued unexplained absence.
There were always those sickening exceptions to Occam’s Razor, the gruesome stories that dominated the newscasts when the unthinkable actually did happen. One of those terrible exceptions had changed his life one night, the night his mother’s and sister’s lives had been ended.
Rigid and tense, he dialed the Sheelys’ number. It was busy. Naturally. Quint heaved an exasperated sigh. Young Emily was ignoring Call Waiting again. He knew that Sarah circumvented Emily’s own circumvention by calling
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