If I Loved You

His hand dropped from the curtain as if he’d been burned. “I’m not stepping foot out of this house. Every time she spots me, she comes over to talk.”

“Really,” Molly said, wishing he might welcome some company.

But Pop was on a roll. “Last month she tried to get me to some potluck dinner at the community center. The Colliers were going, she said, so I wouldn’t be a stranger—a ding dang double date, as if I couldn’t see that coming a mile away.” Molly noticed an odd expression on his face that looked to her a lot like...yearning? “Then only a week ago she had some notion I might like to join her senior bowling league.”

Molly grinned. “You’re a good bowler. I think she’s sweet on you, Pop.”

His face turned red. “That’s all I need.”

Molly wanted to say, Maybe that’s exactly what you need. But that hadn’t gone over well with Ann about Jeff Barlow. Molly was out of the matchmaking business.

Thomas eyed her as if she’d spoken anyway and didn’t get his point. “Your mother was the closest thing to a saint I ever knew. She had a gentle way about her. Never said a bad word about anyone.”

“I know, Pop.” Molly’s eyes stung. “I assume you said no to the potluck.”

His frown deepened. “You were making your special meat loaf that night. I bet that woman’s a terrible cook. She talks too much to pay attention to anything else.”

Molly bit back a smile. “What if she has hidden depths?”

“You think this is funny? What if she’s nothing but a man-hunting busybody?” he said, then stomped off into the kitchen for his afternoon snack.

Molly followed him. Unable to push just a little, she waited until he looked at her. “Pop, I know how much you loved Mom, but I don’t want to see you bury yourself in this house.”

“Hardly any chance of that,” he said, rooting in the fridge and coming up with a block of his favorite cheese. “Not with Brigham here, too, and that baby that’s not his.”

“Now you’re being unkind.”

“Well, I don’t see the good of it, Molly. If his parents aren’t coming home anytime soon—”

“We don’t know that.”

“Then why doesn’t he find an apartment or something?”

“For just a short stay?”

“And why isn’t there someone else who can take care of that child? Makes no sense for a man who’s little more than a drifter, a man who will likely head off tomorrow or next week for who knows where to play shoot ’em up.”

Molly’s stomach sank. She didn’t like to imagine Brig in a firefight somewhere, in danger far from home. Not that home was high on his priority list. But to imagine Brig wounded, or even gone like his teammate, Sean...?

“That’s Brig’s business,” she said, “not ours. All I can do is help him learn how to care for Laila properly—which I’ve promised to do while he’s here—and keep my ears open for any news of his folks.”

“Huh,” Thomas muttered. “Well, I’ve been keeping my eyes open with him, and I doubt baby care is the only thing on his mind.”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Molly cautioned him.

She was trying hard not to think about Brig, just as her father was trying hard not to acknowledge any interest in the woman still ringing the bell next door.

But, no. A glance out the window told Molly the woman was now steaming across the yard to Pop’s front door.

“Uh-oh. There’s no escape,” she told him.

And went to answer the bell.

Unlike Pop, Molly welcomed the chance to distract herself.

She could only hope she wasn’t occupying Brig’s mind.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_0d78f77b-1b24-527b-b47e-d3d757d7aeee)

MOLLY OPENED THE door—and any thought of Brig went flying out of her head.

Except for her red hair, the woman who’d been standing on the Colliers’ front porch hadn’t looked so...dazzling from a distance. Molly took in the purple sequined tracksuit and hot pink running shoes with their glittering silver reflectors. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the visitor’s shoes had sported those red lights that flashed when the wearer walked, as did some of the shoes the children at Little Darlings wore.

“Please. Come in,” she said, gesturing with one hand. “I’m Molly.”

“Natalie Brewster.”

They hadn’t officially met before, but Molly recognized the newest resident of the neighborhood. She had moved in last spring from across town, yet other than a wave or hello called from a distance, Molly had had no dealings with her.

Natalie Brewster’s sharp gaze went roaming—with obvious suspicion. The living room was empty, except for her and Molly, and so was the adjacent dining room. She glanced out the side window where Molly’s father had been hiding behind the curtains moments ago, then homed in on the archway to the kitchen.

“I thought I saw Thomas,” she said.

Molly hated to lie. There was only silence from the other room, but she could imagine Pop sitting motionless at the table, behind the wall where he couldn’t be seen, praying the woman would leave him in peace. Still, it wasn’t Molly’s place to turn him in. And if she got the chance, she had something in mind for their visitor that might help Brig.

“Pop isn’t available right now. Can I do anything for you?”

Natalie Brewster’s face fell. “I had something to ask him. I’ll come back later.”

Another swift look at the nearby kitchen told Molly their new neighbor didn’t believe her for a second, and a twinge of guilt ran through her.

“Hmm,” Natalie said, bright blue eye shadow shimmering in the light. “I hope he doesn’t think he can avoid me forever. I need his help. I’m chairman of the rummage sale we’re having soon at the community center.” She refocused her gaze on Molly. “If you have anything to donate...”

“Let me check my day care. See what I can find.” Molly tilted her head toward the backyard. “I might have some unclaimed lost items there that could be donated now, and a used baby crib or high chair that we’ve recently replaced, some toys...”

“We’d appreciate that. You can have Thomas drop them off. I bet he’s a crack painter and in no time could turn that crib into something that appears brand-new.” She turned to go, then whirled back, purple sequins sparkling. One manicured hand with Day-Glo green-painted nails waved in the air inches from Molly’s face. “You at least must have seen me ringing the bell next door.”

Pop, Molly thought, had fooled no one with his disappearing act. Still, she almost felt sorry for him. Natalie couldn’t have been more different from Molly’s mother if she tried. Her dad just didn’t know how to cope.

Molly glanced toward the Colliers’ house and seized the opportunity she’d been handed. “Mrs. Brewster,” she began.

“It’s miss, honey. I never took the plunge. And call me Natalie. By the way, do you know where Joe and Bess have gone?”

“No, I was hoping you did. Or rather, their son is. He’s been in Liberty for a few days now and expected them to be here, but they haven’t come home. Brig is becoming more and more concerned.”

“It’s not like them,” Natalie agreed. She cast another knowing look at the kitchen archway, her brow furrowed. “Now that you bring it up, I’m worried, too. Days, you said?”

Molly nodded. “I wonder who else might be in on their plans.”