Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Her mom brought over her own plate and slipped an arm around Laurel’s waist. “I didn’t say that to cause you concern. The idea just popped into my head.”
“I know.” Laurel leaned into her mom.
“Plus, look at the bright side,” Deidre said. “Hopefully, the baby will get Huck’s height or even mine. I’m not sure why you’re so short.”
Laurel elbowed her, understanding intellectually that her mom was trying to lighten the mood. “I’m not short.” Yet every available metric showed her to be shorter than the average woman. Such a silly and inconsequential thing should not bother her to the degree that it did. “I need to buy more heels.”
Her mom chuckled. “Good one.”
Laurel took a deep breath, noting her mother’s clear eyes and strong posture. Now was a good time to discuss a difficult topic. “How are you doing now that Zeke Caine is back in town?” The pastor had raped Deidre, and it couldn’t be easy knowing he was close. That he was Laurel’s father.
Deidre’s chin lowered. “I’m fine. Mostly because my daughter, the brilliant FBI agent, is going to discover one of his more recent crimes and put him away.”
That was absolutely Laurel’s plan. The statute of limitations had run out on the crime against her mother, but certainly the bastard had committed other ones. “I am going to do exactly that.”
Deidre smiled. “I know. For now, why don’t you go get started with your knitting and I’ll do the dishes.”
“I can do the dishes,” Laurel said.
“Go.” Deidre gently nudged her.
Laurel happily wandered to the back of the house where they’d set up a knitting room. In college she’d discovered a need for knitted boots and hats for premature babies and so had created a nonprofit organization that now served hospitals all over the country. To relax, she and her mother both knitted, and then sent the results to the warehouse for distribution. She sat in a comfortable recliner chair and reached for light blue yarn to begin a new set of booties. Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her back pocket. “Agent Snow.”
“Hey, it’s Huck. Did you get a good dinner?”
Her stomach felt full. “I had pot roast. You are welcome to come over and have a plate, if you like.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. “But I’m going to take the dog home. We both need to run for a while.” Huck often jogged to keep in shape and stave off stress.
She pursed her lips. “You’ve been working out a lot lately.”
“I need to run off the interview with Rachel,” he retorted.
Realization rustled through Laurel’s brain. “Oh.” She had missed the inference in his words. “Do you believe the interview will be beneficial?”
“I do,” he said. “Otherwise, I’d be putting my head through a wall right now. We managed to get Abbott’s face on the screen as well as the number for the 24-hour hotline. I’m hopeful somebody will call in a good lead.”
“As am I.” She pressed the phone’s speaker button and began to knit. “My mother seems to think that the baby will inherit the good parts of all of us. What do you think?”
“I’m hoping the kid has my height,” Huck returned easily.
Laurel snorted. “As am I, but you know we have no control over which chromosomes we pass on to offspring.” Or was he trying to ease her mind? He might have been joking, but she really did want the child to have his height.
“I hope he or she has your eyes.”
Laurel sat back, her fingers moving quickly. “I don’t know if I do. People view me as an oddity, and it took me awhile to become accustomed to it. You have pretty eyes, Huck. They’re more than brown, kind of amber. Maybe the baby should have your eyes.”
“I don’t think we get to choose. Remember?” Huck laughed. “It sounds like you and your mother had a nice talk.”
“We did, but I still hold concerns that I lack the appropriate skills to be a good mother.”
Huck scoffed. “As long as you stick around, you’re better than the mother I got.”
Was there pain in his voice? She couldn’t tell. “I don’t know why your mother left, but I imagine she regretted that decision her entire life.”
“I don’t know.” Huck sighed. “Damn it.”
Her fingers slowed. “What?”
“I have a car in front of me weaving all over the place. I think someone’s been drinking.” The sound of a siren echoed over the line as he no doubt flicked his on. “I have to go, Laurel. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Have a good night, Huck.”
The sound of the gear shift being locked into Park clunked through the line. “You, too, and we’ll worry about all of this later.”
“I like that plan. Good night.” She continued to knit, trying to banish her erratic concerns. Hopefully Huck would call in backup. Should she have suggested it?