Some betrayals are like rivers, so deep, so wide, they can’t be crossed. But—for those with enough courage—forgiveness, redemption and love may be found on the other side.

On the night her home is consumed by fire, Janine Stoddard finally resolves to leave her abusive husband. While she is reluctant to involve her estranged daughter, she can’t resist a chance to see Harmony and baby Lottie in Asheville, North Carolina, before she disappears forever.

Harmony’s friend Taylor Martin realizes how much the reunited mother and daughter yearn to stay together, and she sees in Jan a chance to continue her own mother’s legacy of helping women in need of a fresh start. She opens her home, even as she’s opening her heart to another newcomer, Adam Pryor. But enigmatic Adam has a secret that could destroy Taylor’s trust…and cost Jan her hard-won freedom.

Praise for the first of the Goddesses Anonymous novels

by Emilie Richards

“Richards creates a heart-wrenching atmosphere that slowly builds

to the final pages, and continues to echo after the book is finished.”

—Publishers Weekly on One Mountain Away

“Complex characters, compelling emotions and the healing power of forgiveness—what could be better? I loved One Mountain Away!”

—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

“Emilie Richards’s compassion and deep understanding of

family relationships, especially those among women, are the soul of

One Mountain Away. This rich, multilayered story of love and bitterness, humor, loss and redemption haunts me as few other books have.”

—New York Times bestselling author Sandra Dallas

“When I first began reading One Mountain Away, I wondered where the story was going. A few pages later, I knew precisely where this story was going—straight to my heart. Words that come to my mind are wow, fabulous and beautiful. Definitely a must-read. If any book

I’ve ever read deserves to be made into a film, One Mountain Away is it! Kudos to Emilie Richards.”

—New York Times bestselling author Catherine Anderson

“Emilie Richards is at the top of her game in this richly rewarding tale of love and family and the ties that bind us all. One Mountain Away is everything I want in a novel and more. A must-buy!”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Barbara Bretton

“Emilie Richards has written a powerful and thought-provoking novel that will both break your heart and fill you with hope.

Richards’s characters become your friends, and they will stay with you long after you turn the last page. A beautiful book.”

—National bestselling author Diane Chamberlain on One Mountain Away

No River Too Wide

Emilie Richards

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader,

How does the author of a series, like Goddesses Anonymous, choose which characters to feature next? If you read One Mountain Away or Somewhere Between Luck and Trust, then you know half a dozen women are introduced who loosely band together to reach out to other women in turmoil. So how did I decide which ones in this ever-widening circle to feature in No River Too Wide?

Have you ever been in a conversation with a friend who tells you the gripping tale of another woman’s life, then stops before the end? On the edge of your seat you ask her to continue, and she tells you sadly that she can’t, because she doesn’t know the ending. You’re riddled with frustration, right? Because you need to know!

If you’ve had that experience, then you understand why I couldn’t introduce Harmony’s mother, Janine, in passing—as I did in One Mountain Away—and not learn more about her. We know Janine’s trapped in a nightmarish marriage. We know that despite this, she did everything she could to give Harmony the start she needed to grow up and finally move far away.

But that smidgen of a story wasn’t enough. Domestic abuse is a difficult subject, but sadly it’s all too real. Over a million women are assaulted by their partners every year, and yes, 85% of domestic violence victims are women. The statistics are grim and worth your exploration, but this book isn’t about statistics. No River Too Wide is a story of triumph, of a woman moving beyond her terrifying circumstances and regaining control of her life.

Women can, especially if they have help.

As I thought about Janine and Harmony, about bad marriages and good ones, I found I needed to explore the way we women choose the men in our lives, and how we learn to make good choices and avoid bad ones.

My story was born.

The River Arts District of Asheville, North Carolina, where Taylor’s fictional health and wellness studio, Evolution, sits above the French Broad River, is real. The week I was in Asheville for research, the river overflowed its banks and seeped into far too many artists’ studios. Despite that rare occurrence, the District is definitely worth a visit. The studios are fascinating, and the personable artists are willing to stop and chat about their work. I hope you’ll find the time to visit someday.

Good reading,

Emilie

To women everywhere who work tirelessly and creatively

to help other women who need them

Contents

Dear Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Acknowledgments

Questions for Discussion

Chapter 1

In an Oscar-worthy performance, Harmony Stoddard put all the enthusiasm she could muster into her voice. “I just know you’re going to love spending time with your grandma, Lottie.”

In reality she wasn’t sure that her nine-month-old daughter, happily exercising her chubby little legs in her bouncy chair, was going to love the upcoming visit one bit, but she continued the charade.

“And your daddy will be there. You remember Davis, right? You’ve seen him twice. He even held you once.”

Of course, not with any enthusiasm, but Harmony’s job was to ready Lottie to be carried off by strangers and to make her baby girl think this was going to be a terrific afternoon. By her own critical standards, she was doing an admirable job, even if she was developing a roaring headache from the effort.

She wasn’t surprised at the good face she was able to put on upcoming events. After all, she had been raised by a mother able to turn a day rimmed with fear and foreboding into an adventure. So many afternoons she and Janine had baked cakes and cookies, or set the dinner table with their best china and carefully folded napkins, pretending they were a normal mother and daughter brightening their happy little home.

In reality, of course, their preparations had only been a pantomime. Pretending all was normal had helped them get through the hours until Rex Stoddard walked through the door to lavishly compliment them or—more memorably—knock Janine to the floor.

Sadly, Janine Stoddard wasn’t the grandmother on her way to see Lottie. That grandmother, Grace Austin, was Davis’s mother. Lottie’s father had only recently gotten around to telling his family about his nine-month-old blessed event. Harmony didn’t know if her ex-boyfriend had been too embarrassed, or if the baby’s arrival had simply slipped his mind.

Whatever the reason, Davis’s father had no interest in meeting Lottie, but his mother was curious and expected Davis to produce her new granddaughter. So producing Lottie was the activity of the day.

“Let’s make sure we have everything you need,” Harmony continued in her own mother’s chirpy counterfeit voice. “Diapers, just in case one of them is willing to change you. Your sippy cup. Spring water. Snacks you can feed yourself.”

She paused a moment, wondering how that would work. Would Davis and Grace let messy little Lottie experiment with the lightly steamed vegetables Harmony had prepared, the little squares of whole wheat toast? Or would they lose patience and feed her French fries or crumbled-up hamburger from whatever restaurant they took her to?

The mystery was about to be solved. The bell at the bottom of the stairs pealed, and Velvet, Harmony’s golden retriever, who had been sleeping on the sofa, gave one sleepy bark before closing her eyes to finish her nap.

Harmony took a deep breath. For better or worse, Lottie was Davis’s daughter. Harmony had no right to dictate everything he did with her. After all, he did send regular support checks. Of course, if he didn’t, he would have to explain his reasons to his stodgy employer when the state of North Carolina garnished his paycheck.

“Okay, off we go.” She lifted the baby into her arms and settled her into the car seat to carry her downstairs. Harmony had insisted that Davis check the manuals for his car and the car seat to be sure he could use it safely. Luckily his Acura was new enough that she didn’t really have to worry, which was a good thing, since she doubted he had bothered with his homework.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, followed by a third blast. She smoothed the wisps of pale brown hair off Lottie’s forehead, then hoisted the car seat and the diaper bag and carried both to the door, nudged it open with her hip and peered down at him.

“It takes a minute to get her into the seat, so next time you can ring once, Davis. If you’d like to take the diaper bag, that would help.”

Davis, good-looking in a brooding sort of way, deepened his perpetual frown, but he came up the steps, stopped just below her and held out a hand. She swung the diaper bag in his direction, and he caught it. She followed him down, taking her time so she could grasp the rail. The stairway up to her garage apartment was wide and as safe as any outside stairway could be, but she always took her time, even when she wasn’t carrying precious cargo.

The woman waiting at the bottom of the stairs was obviously Grace. She had the same vaguely dissatisfied expression as her son, the same dark hair, the same impatient, almost jerky, movements. Although she smiled politely, her eyes didn’t change. She was examining Lottie, and not with grandmotherly affection.

“She seems small for nine months,” Grace said. She didn’t bother to smile at the baby, who was playing with a ring of plastic keys Harmony had given her. She continued her assessment. “Davis had more hair.”

“I probably had less,” Harmony said, struggling not to dislike Lottie’s grandmother on sight. “She is small, but well within the normal range.”

“Davis was walking by the time he was that age.”

“You must have had your hands full.”

Grace gave a humorless laugh. “We had a nanny until he was five, so my hands were full with better things. His father and I both traveled frequently for business.”

“I’m sure she took excellent care of him.”

“Of course she did,” Grace said with obvious irritation. “We made sure of it.”

Harmony thought one response was as pointless as another, so she gave none at all.

“We’ll bring her back in a couple of hours,” Davis said quickly, as if even he had picked up on his mother’s animosity. “Mother’s flying out early this evening. This is just a brief visit.”

Harmony managed a tight smile. “I’ll be waiting, and I’ll have my cell phone with me if you have any questions.”

“Oh, I think we can manage,” Grace said. “Davis’s sister has two children, and we see them frequently. Of course, that situation is very different. They live in a two-parent family.”

“There’s no point in bringing that up.” Davis sounded annoyed.

“Why not? It’s the truth. Your father and I are happy to be seen with them. We can show them off to our friends.”

The rest of the sentence was unspoken but clear. Not like this one.

“Your son proposed, and I declined,” Harmony said, “so don’t blame him. I hope you won’t punish Lottie. Times have changed, and there are plenty of unmarried parents raising children.”

“I doubt you have any idea what I consider appropriate.”

Enough was enough. Harmony lifted her chin. “I doubt that I want to.”

“Let’s go,” Davis told his mother. “As usual you’ve thrown a damper over the afternoon. Let’s see what we can salvage.”

Grace just smiled, as if his words had been a compliment.

Harmony watched them head toward Davis’s car, and for the first time she felt a twinge of sympathy for Lottie’s father. She’d just gotten a peek into Davis’s childhood, and while the scenery surrounding him had probably been lovely, the actors and script had been B-movie grade, at best.

As Harmony watched, Grace got into the passenger’s seat, leaving her son to set the car seat on the ground, open the rear door and finally juggle it inside to begin the process of trying to fasten it in place.

Like her own mother, Harmony yearned for the best in bad situations, so she had foolishly hoped Grace would welcome Lottie and shower the baby with unconditional love. Instead, it was clear Grace and Davis would take Lottie to a restaurant closer to Asheville, do their familial duty and return her well ahead of schedule. Their visits—if Grace visited again—would always be short and stressful. Eventually Lottie would refuse to go with them.

Harmony had chosen a real winner when she’d moved in with Davis almost two years ago.

“Men...”

Not for the first time she wished her own mother could be here with her. Without a doubt Janine Stoddard would fold her baby granddaughter into her arms and smother her with all the love she had to give–and was so rarely allowed to.

But that, too, was a bad situation with no “best” to hope for. Right now, in a secluded house in Topeka, Kansas, her mother was probably preparing dinner for Harmony’s father, hoping as she struggled for perfection that tonight Rex Stoddard would praise what she cooked and otherwise leave her in peace.

Sadly Harmony could only guess, because she hadn’t talked to her mother in over a year. The last time she’d tried, Janine had told her never to call home again.

Chapter 2

From the audio journal of a forty-five-year-old woman, taped for the files of Moving On, an underground highway for abused women.

I was a happy child. My father worked in a factory, and my mother was a dressmaker who sewed and made alterations in a corner of the bedroom she shared with my father. She was always home when I returned from school. There were homemade cookies waiting and open arms for my friends.

Most of the money Mama made was turned over to my father, who decided how to spend it, but her wishes were always taken into account. Daddy was a kind man, generous in every way, who found joy in providing for his family and keeping us safe from harm. When our front door was closed at night, love, not fear, was locked inside with us.

Every Sunday we attended a church where God’s mercy was preached from the pulpit. Every Monday I walked through a neighborhood of small, tidy houses to a school where I was expected to do my best. While neither of my parents had gone to college, they saved what money they could to guarantee I did. They wanted to give me the best.

Had they lived, my life would have been different, but in my third year of college, as they were on their way to visit me, a car traveling in the other direction crossed the interstate median directly in their path. The cars exploded on contact, ending a midday drinking binge for the driver and the lives of both my parents.

The accident left me without a compass. My sheltered background left me with little insight into people who were not decent and well-meaning. My parents left me with a yearning for what I had lost, but sadly they left me when I was too young to understand the difference between a marriage based on respect and one based on fear.

By the time nine months had passed, I had learned.

One month after their deaths, the Abuser came into my life.

* * *

Rex had done this before.

At two a.m., as she tossed underwear and socks into a canvas backpack, Janine Stoddard reminded herself this was not the first time her husband had stayed away all night without warning her ahead of time. Keeping her off guard was part of a strategy to keep her from leaving him. Sometimes, by piecing together hints in later conversations, she’d even concluded that Rex had stayed close to the house the whole time to see what she would do in his absence.

It wasn’t enough that she obeyed every whim when he was at home. He wanted to be sure she followed his orders when he wasn’t, too.

While their son, Buddy, was still alive, Rex had never needed to worry. At the first sign of his mother’s defection, Buddy would have called his father. Of course, Rex’s faith in Buddy had never been put to the test. Janine had loved her son too much to put that kind of pressure on him.

She couldn’t think about Buddy. Not now.

It was possible Rex was observing her right this minute. He might be in his car in a vacationing neighbor’s driveway, eyes trained on the road to see if Janine tried to slip away. He might even be camping in the woods behind their house, with binoculars and night-vision goggles. Rex considered himself something of a survivalist, and while he was too much of a loner to drill on weekends or join a militia, he collected survival gear the way some men collected fishing lures or model airplanes. He kept all his equipment under lock and key in the same room where he kept an arsenal that included an AK-47 and an assortment of Rugers and Remingtons.

He liked to tell her exactly what each gun could do. Sometimes he gave his lectures with the gun pointed directly at her.

For a moment she was frozen in place, one hand raised toward the dresser, as she thought about those guns. Was she insane? Did she really believe that after all these years she might be able to pull this off? That Rex had really been fooled by her eager attempts to please him, by her waning interest in anything that wasn’t centered on his needs, by her reluctance to go out in public without him?

For months now she had carefully waged a campaign to make her husband think his efforts to turn her into one of the walking dead had succeeded at last, that there was nothing left inside her except a desire to please him. The masquerade had given her hope and a reason to live. Having a plan, even a sliver of one, had slowly reinfused her with energy and purpose. As she had pretended to sink lower and lower, she had watched his reaction and gauged his state of mind.

Rex had believed her. She was almost certain. After all, not to believe would have been an admission that twenty-five years of his best efforts to subdue her hadn’t borne fruit. He had set out to change his wife to suit his every need, and Rex Stoddard succeeded at everything he set his mind to. He was so superior to those around him that even the possibility he might fail never really entered his mind.

She had known that. She had used that.

But had she really convinced him? If she had, where was he tonight?

One more time, just one more, Janine forced herself to consider other possibilities. Rex wasn’t a drinker. Had he been hurt, the police or the hospital would have called her. If his car had broken down on the way home from work, he would have driven home in a rental car, angry at the world and anxious to take his frustrations out on her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to picture the best scenario. Rex had probably gone off on an overnight business trip, as he was sometimes forced to. Truckers and trucking firms in the Midwest were the primary clients of Rex’s insurance agency, and occasionally it was necessary to visit in person to settle claims or sell policies. He hadn’t told Janine he was leaving, because he wanted her to think he was still in town, eyes trained on her from some hidden location.

Janine reminded herself that she had carefully practiced her escape. Her husband’s most powerful weapon was fear. Most likely he would saunter in for dinner in about sixteen hours as if nothing had happened. With luck Rex was sure by now that there was no longer a reason to watch her. As long as she thought she was being watched, she would never leave.

No, even though her escape plan hadn’t been fully activated, even though she still had weeks before every tiny detail was put in place, now was the time to go. She had been given a chance, something she had prayed for back in the days when she believed in prayer. If she let this moment slip by, there was no telling when she might be given another.

Fumbling in the dark with the assistance of a penlight, she continued packing. She didn’t have time to bring much. For months she had made a mental inventory of essentials, knowing it was too dangerous to pack before it was time to go. Instead, she had rearranged her drawers so the important things would be easy to find quickly.

Now she mentally reviewed the list as she stuffed items inside a canvas backpack Buddy had once used for scouting. Her watch. A nightgown that was the last gift her daughter, Harmony, had given her before leaving home. Two T-shirts, one pair of pants thin enough to roll. She finished with two letters her parents had written her when she was still in college. For years she had safely kept them in a county fair cookbook that Rex never opened, only daring to move them recently in preparation for this moment. Rex had “encouraged” her to forget her past. Had he found the letters, he would have destroyed them.

Once she was in the bathroom, packing toiletries was easy. She had moved the items she needed into one drawer in the vanity, and now she removed the drawer and dumped everything into her backpack. Then she knelt, reached through the opening where the drawer had been and peeled away an envelope of cash that had been taped to the wall along with a checkbook linked to a secret savings account.

The cash would help her get out of Kansas. The savings account would help her start a new life in New Hampshire, where she had never been and never wanted to go. New Hampshire, which had one of the lowest number of truck and tractor registrations in the nation.

New Hampshire, where she might be safe.

She rested the backpack against the wall and stepped into the closet to dress. The night air was cool, not cold, but she chose corduroy pants, a black turtleneck that she topped with a heavy black sweater and ankle boots. Nothing fit. As part of her plan, she had lost almost twenty pounds. Now when she looked in the mirror she saw a hollow-eyed woman with lank graying hair and cheekbones so sharp they looked as if they might do damage to the skin stretched over them. She looked beaten and defeated.

It was only steps from the truth and would be completely true if she didn’t leave this house immediately.

She cinched the pants with a belt and pushed the sweater sleeves high. Her coat was downstairs, so for now she slung the backpack over one shoulder.

She was almost ready.

Without a backward glance at the knockoff Louis XV–style bedroom she had always despised, she went into the upstairs hallway and stood quietly to listen. Outside she heard an owl in the woods at the border of their property. While technically the Stoddard house was in a suburb with the unlikely name of Pawnee Parkland, the neighborhood was rural, with houses set acres apart and separated by woods and fields. Rex had chosen the location because of its isolation. Contact with neighbors was limited here, and social events nonexistent. Any friendly overtures had been pleasantly rejected by Rex years ago, and after Buddy’s death, sympathy had been rejected, too. The only communication she had these days was the occasional perfunctory wave as a neighbor’s car sped toward town.

She descended the stairs as quietly as she could, but each footfall sounded like an explosion because there was no longer a runner to muffle her footsteps. Two weeks ago Rex had stripped the carpeting and refinished the pine stairs himself, ever the helpful family man who took great pride in his prison. She was sure he had removed the runner to better hear her as she came and went.

Downstairs in the front hallway she slipped into her coat and settled the backpack into place. The disposable cell phone that Moving On had given her was zipped into an inside pocket. She slipped it out and hit Redial.

“I’m on my way out,” she said softly when a woman answered.

“The meeting place we discussed?”

Janine calculated how long it would take to cross the neighbor’s field, take the back way behind his pond and over to a dirt road that ran about a mile west to meet her contact at a deserted barn she had discovered on one of her rare trips to the grocery store without Rex. After much uncertainty she had decided that sneaking away from the house alone, unseen by anybody, was the safest course. Her contact could have picked her up at the front door, but even if Rex wasn’t watching, someone else might notice a car on the quiet road, someone getting up for a glass of water or a cigarette. Someone who could give Rex a description and a place to start his search.

“Give me forty-five minutes,” Janine said, factoring in the cloudy skies, the absence of stars and the narrow beam of the penlight.

She slipped the phone back into her pocket and buttoned her coat.

She was ready.

Leaving by the front door was too obvious. Instead, she hurried through the expansive country kitchen, took the stairs to the basement and followed a narrow corridor into the storm cellar. The door opened onto what was little more than a hole. She found the steps up after carefully closing the door behind her.

Outside now, she slipped behind the row of trees that separated this section of their yard from a field and the woods beyond. The night was as thickly black as any she could remember. This was the most dangerous moment of her escape, the one she had been dreading. She had to be careful not to make noise or draw attention in any way. Even if Rex was nearby, he couldn’t look everywhere, be everywhere. If she could get to their neighbor’s property without being noticed, she had a fighting chance.

She had almost made her goal when she realized she had forgotten her son’s scrapbook.

“Buddy.” The sound was more of a sigh than a whisper. She had tried so hard to remember everything, but this golden opportunity to leave had presented itself too soon.

Tears filled her eyes. She had carefully, lovingly, assembled scrapbooks for both her children, old-fashioned scrapbooks crammed with photos and report cards and faded ribbons. Harmony had taken hers when she left Topeka for good after high school graduation, but Buddy’s was still packed away in his bedroom. Janine had planned to retrieve the album and take it with her, the last link to the son who hadn’t been able to find his way out of the morass of his childhood.

If she left the album behind, how long would it be before she could no longer remember his face or his sweet little-boy victories?

She had to go back. If she did, she could still make it to the meeting place in time.

Ignoring the sensible voice that told her to keep moving, she retraced her steps, fear expanding with every one. At the house she slipped back through the cellar, the basement and up the steps to the first floor. She was trembling by the time she reached the downstairs hallway.

She paused in the entryway, which was adorned with a dozen or more family photographs in gold leaf frames. Rex had arranged the little shrine himself. He had chosen an Oriental carpet made of the finest silk and placed it under a massive mahogany table that displayed the photos. Each photo had its own special place, and he always checked carefully after she dusted to be sure she hadn’t rearranged them.

Harmony wasn’t in any of the photos, of course, since she had left home without Rex’s permission, and Buddy was only in a few, because this was supposed to be the Rex and Janine Happy Show, visual proof that she had been under her husband’s control for more than two decades. The photos were taunts meant to humiliate and shame, horrifying reminders of the years she had spent in the prison of this house with a man she despised.

Rex was at fault for everything. Rex was the reason she was sneaking back into her own house, trying to recover memories of the child he had destroyed, trying to save something, anything, meaningful from the twenty-five years of hell her husband had put her through.

She was not so beaten down that she couldn’t feel anger. Now the attempted escape set it free. She grabbed the most hateful photograph of all, the one taken by the justice of the peace on the day of their wedding. There in the hallway of the Shawnee County Courthouse she was smiling up at Rex as if he had all the answers to life’s mysteries.

“What a fool.”

Before she realized what she was doing, she stripped away the cardboard at the back of the frame and pulled out the photo. She tore it into four pieces, then eight, and threw the pieces to the table. In moments she’d dispensed with another frame and mutilated another photo, then another.

Elation filled her as she shredded each photograph and each frame landed on the floor. But once she was finished, the pile of scraps didn’t make the statement she wanted. She needed something more, something bigger, something for Rex to find when he returned.

Something that announced Janine was gone forever.

She strode across the room and grabbed his favorite ashtray and lighter; then she took both to the table and piled the fragments inside the ashtray.

The surge of joy she felt as she lit the first corner was like blood returning to an unused limb.

“So goes our life together, Rex.” She watched the photos catch fire, and then she started up the stairs to Buddy’s room.

The scrapbook was in a box in the closet. She had been the one to pack away all their son’s things, since Rex had wanted nothing to do with that final parting. To her knowledge he had never come into Buddy’s room since his death, so she was hopeful nothing had been disturbed.

She thought she remembered which box the book was in, but when she began to dig through it, she realized she was mistaken. Minutes passed and her elation vanished, replaced again by fear. She needed to leave now. This time for good. Forever and ever, world without end.

She was just about to give up when she saw the shiny blue cover at the bottom of the last box. She unearthed the scrapbook, but she knew better than to take the necessary time to make room for it in the backpack. On her way out she stripped a pillowcase off the bed and slipped the scrapbook inside so nothing would fall out. Clutching the pillowcase to her chest, she was ready.

In the hallway outside Buddy’s bedroom she noted a strange smell, then a noise downstairs. She froze, but from here both the smell and the sound were unfamiliar, not the footsteps of a man returning home, but a crackling that seemed to be gaining steadily in volume.

She edged along the wall toward the stairs and paused, afraid of what she might see, but she had already recognized the smell. Her eyes began to burn, and smoke tickled her lungs.

Below her, flames were shooting from the flammable silk carpet under the entry table. A wall of fire separated the two floors.

As she watched, the flames leaped to the stairs and began to lick their way toward her, feeding on the pine boards that had been recently stained and varnished.

She was trapped.

She had done this. For twenty-five years Rex had told her she was worth nothing without him, that her judgment was poor, her abilities second-rate, that every mistake her children had ever made could be lain directly at her feet.

And now, with this blatant act of defiance, she had proved him right.

For twenty-five years she had believed she was going to die in this house. Now she knew it was true. But not by her husband’s hands. Not by Rex’s.

By her own.

Chapter 3

Harmony knew how lucky she was. Life hadn’t been easy, but at almost every turn good people had stepped forward to help her. Right now she was sitting in the home office of one of them, Marilla Reynolds, who had given her a job when Harmony was pregnant with Lottie. Marilla, known as Rilla to her friends, had hired Harmony to be the official Reynolds family “Jill-of-all-trades,” and that was a good description for the way the job had played out.

Rilla, Brad and their two little boys, Cooper and Landon, lived outside Asheville in a lovely old farmhouse they had painstakingly restored and expanded. They had the usual farm animals, including horses and goats, and a kennel where they bred service dogs to be trained, most often to assist people with epilepsy. The organic vegetable garden and orchard totaled nearly an acre, and food was canned, frozen and dried for the winter. In fact, that was how Harmony had spent most of the past week since Davis’s visit. Now that it was early September, harvest was well under way.

Before bringing Harmony on board, Rilla had managed most of the work on her own, until a car accident changed everything. These days she only needed to use a cane if she was on her feet more than an hour or two, but Rilla would never be able to work as many hours as she had before.

During Rilla’s recovery Harmony had proved herself to be invaluable. She loved the Reynolds family, and she was pretty sure they loved her back. The variety of work never failed to delight her, and she was looking forward to a new project. She and Rilla were planning an herb garden for spring, a large one to produce organic herbs for some of Asheville’s finer restaurants.

In preparation the new plot had been spread and tilled with compost and manure, followed by a planting of winter rye that would be mowed and plowed under to further enrich the ground in early spring. They had surveyed the market, and half a dozen chefs had given them wish lists.

Now, late in the afternoon, Harmony was finishing up an internet search to get wholesale prices for plants, so she and Rilla could gauge start-up costs. In a little while she had plans to go to dinner and a movie with her friend Taylor Martin and Taylor’s daughter, Maddie. They were probably on their way to pick her up.

Lottie was napping in her Pack ’n Play in the corner, and Rilla was still down at the kennel with her sons. The internet connection in the farmhouse was better than the one in Harmony’s garage apartment, and as Lottie slept on, Harmony completed her research. The house was unusually quiet, as if taking a quick nap itself before the hectic predinner rush.

Harmony knew what she had to do.

In the months since she had last spoken to her mother, she had fallen into something of a ritual. Every three or four weeks she checked the Topeka Capital-Journal online to see if there was any mention of her parents. She didn’t expect to find them in descriptions of Topeka’s most coveted social events or as participants in a 5K for charity. This was not casual surfing. She was fairly certain that if she discovered anything it would be in the obituaries or the headlines.

“Murdered Wife Wasn’t Missed for Months.”

With those expectations it was always difficult to make herself go to the website. Harmony had considered closing the door to her past and locking it tight. But she still loved her mother, and despite Janine’s plea that Harmony never call again, she believed that her mother still loved her, at least whatever part of Janine Stoddard’s heart and soul were still alive and functioning. Trying to forget her was a betrayal, and Harmony’s mother had already been betrayed much too often.

She wished Lottie would wake up to stop her, or the front door would slam and Rilla and her sons would entice her into the kitchen to chat while Rilla made dinner. But the house remained silent, and with a sigh she typed in the URL and once the right page was on the screen in front of her, she typed “Stoddard” into the search box and waited.

No matter how pessimistic or realistic she was about her mother’s future, the headline that came up in response stole the breath from her lungs.

“House Fire Still Smoldering After Devastating Propane Tank Explosion.”

For a moment she simply stared at the screen as the words she had read out loud blurred. Was this a mistake? Was the name “Stoddard” mentioned elsewhere on the page and that was why she had been led here? Surely that had to be the explanation. There were other stories in the sidebar, advertisements at the top and at the bottom a site menu.

But even while she tried to avoid reading the article, she knew.

Time passed until she realized she was only making things worse by waiting. She steeled herself and read the article out loud, as if pronouncing the words would somehow make sense of them.

“Topeka Fire Department crews were called to the site of a fire in Pawnee Parkland after an underground propane tank exploded on Saturday, about three a.m., rocking the rural neighborhood and triggering more than a dozen phone calls, said fire investigator Randy Blankenship.

“The first crew to arrive at the scene established a safety perimeter that prevented immediate investigation, and only after three hours was the department able to control the blaze. A long-standing drought coupled with the powerful explosion of the tank contributed to the difficulty. By nine a.m., the worst of the fire was extinguished, but by then the house had been destroyed.

“The cause of the blaze is under investigation, and there is no information about the fate of the owners, Rex and Janine Stoddard, who have lived at the address for more than two decades.”

The house Harmony had grown up in. Gone? Just like that? And her parents?

She stared at the screen, and only then did she notice that the article was a week old. A week had passed, a week in which she had spread manure, rocked Lottie to sleep and canned two dozen quarts of apple butter.

A week in which her mother hadn’t been alive in faraway Kansas.

Only then, as tears flooded her eyes, did she realize the article was linked to another more recent one.

She forced herself to click, but she couldn’t look at the screen, not yet. Not when she felt sure she knew what it would say.

The front door slammed, and she heard the shrill voices of little boys heading through the front hall. She had only moments before she was interrupted. She forced her eyes open and stared, scanning the synopsis of information she already knew at the beginning of the article. Then she focused on silently reading the update.

Investigators are still trying to determine if anyone died in the blaze. Cadaver dogs have been brought in and continue to search, but the home’s residents, Rex and Janine Stoddard, remain unaccounted for at this time.

“You doing okay, Harmony?” a voice asked from the doorway. “Taylor’s not here yet?”

Harmony wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before she turned in the desk chair. “Rilla, I think my mother’s dead.”

If someday Hollywood scouted the Asheville countryside for the perfect farm wife, Rilla Reynolds, clothed today in overalls, would easily be chosen. She was stocky but not overweight, easy to look at without being either plain or pretty. Her face was rectangular, her nose snubbed, and her brown eyes searched for answers even when she was engaging in small talk.

This wasn’t small talk.

“Did you get a phone call?” she asked, coming to stand beside Harmony and placing her hand on her younger friend’s shoulder for comfort. Then, before Harmony could answer, she shook her head. “Of course not. Nobody in Topeka knows you’re here.”

“I found this on the internet.” Harmony got up, as much to put distance between herself and the computer screen as to give Rilla a chance to read it.

Rilla took the chair, slowly bending her knees until she was finally sitting. From some distant point in her mind, Harmony realized that Rilla had already been on her feet too long today and would pay the price when she tried to sleep tonight.

Rilla silently read the article. Then she swiveled to face Harmony. “That’s the house you grew up in?”

Harmony nodded, thankful that Rilla hadn’t called it a home.

“They haven’t found a body yet. You saw that part?”

Harmony nodded again.

Rilla never danced around anything. “I guess it’s possible the fire was so extreme they never will, but it’s also possible nobody was home.”

“My parents don’t go anywhere except a cabin up north where my father can fish, and my mother can wait on him. They always do that during the first week in June, not September. If my father has to be away for work, it’s usually only for a night, and he never takes my mother. She’s always in that house unless she’s making a quick trip to the grocery store.”

“You haven’t been home in how long?”

Harmony shrugged, because doing math right now was impossible. “I’m twenty-three. I left right after high school graduation.”

“That’s years, Harmony. And you don’t talk to your parents. Maybe things have changed.”

“Sure, maybe my father found Jesus.” Harmony paused. “Or a different Jesus than the one he claimed he found years ago. You know, the Jesus who insisted that he beat my mother into submission if she planted petunias when he preferred marigolds.”

“People can change.”

Harmony considered that, but not for long. “He likes himself too much to think there might be a reason to.”

“No family they might be visiting?”

“My mother has no family, and my father only has distant cousins. They stay far away from him, which shows there might be good sensible people on the Stoddard side and my genes aren’t complete poison.” She heard the bitterness in her voice, but she didn’t care. She would deal with her father’s death if she had to, but right now her only concern was for her mother.

Rilla was assessing the situation, looking past Harmony’s shoulder as her mind whirled. Harmony could see it in her eyes. Rilla was compassionate and empathetic, but right now Rilla-the-problem-solver was in play.

“I think we ought to call Brad at the office and get him to make inquiries. You don’t want to give yourself away, and Brad will know how to go about doing it so the call isn’t traced back to you.”

Harmony wasn’t sure what to say. Brad Reynolds was a lawyer, and a good one. She needed answers. She just didn’t feel ready for them.

“It will take him some time,” Rilla said, reading her expression. “You’ll have time to prepare.”

“He could have killed her. Finally. He could have set the fire and locked her inside to die, or killed her first and set the fire to cover what he’d done.”

Rilla grimaced. “Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not going to help if you make up scenarios.”

Harmony knew Rilla was right. And could her father do something that horrible? Abuse was one thing, but murder? Yet wasn’t that the path abusive men took? Especially if they believed their wife or lover was trying to leave them?

Marilla got up a little faster than she’d sat down, and she stepped forward to put her arms around Harmony, although she was the shorter of the two. “Let me call Brad, okay? Not knowing is going to be worse than knowing. If nothing else, the truth will pare down the fantasies.”

But Harmony was already thinking of another. “She could have killed him, Rilla, to protect herself. Finally and forever. Maybe she set the fire and escaped. Or died with him.”

Marilla held her at arm’s length. “You can see this isn’t helpful?”

Harmony realized she had tears running down her cheeks. She reached around Rilla for a tissue from a box on the desk and blew her nose.

“Brad?” Marilla asked.

Harmony nodded. “You’ll ask him to be careful? Not to give me away?”

“I’ll remind him, but he thinks like a lawyer, remember? That’s the first thing he’ll figure out.”

One of Rilla’s sons—they sounded so much alike it was never easy to tell who was calling—began to shout from the family room at the back of the house. Harmony registered something about the television and promises, but her mind was whirling in other directions.

“I’ll get the boys settled. Then I’ll call Brad. He’s got trial tomorrow, so I know he’s still at the office. Why don’t I get you some iced tea while I’m at it?”

Harmony shook her head. Her stomach was roiling. “Taylor and Maddie are probably on their way.”

“Taylor will understand if you don’t want to go out tonight. Try her cell phone.”

“She won’t answer if she’s driving.”

“Good for her. Why don’t I make enough dinner for all of us, then? The boys adore Maddie. She won’t be bored.”

“You’re exhausted. I can see it.”

“Then come help me.”

Harmony knew what Rilla was doing. There were better distractions at the farm than dinner out and a movie would provide. “What do I tell Taylor?”

Rilla looked surprised. “The truth.”

“But it’s not her problem.”

“This is when people rally around you. She’ll consider it her problem, too. We’re here for support.”

Harmony hadn’t experienced much of that as a child. No Stoddard talked about anything that went on at home for fear of retaliation from the master of the house. “Support” was a word best used in conjunction with a mattress or a bra and never for friends. How could anybody support her if they didn’t know she needed it?

Of course, things had changed since she left home. Taylor’s own mother, Charlotte, had been responsible for the difference. She had supported Harmony, a complete stranger, when she most needed it, and before her death she had gathered a group of women around her who continued to support each other.

Sometimes, though, Harmony forgot everything she had learned from Charlotte. The lessons of her childhood were powerful.

“I’ll talk to Taylor if you like,” Rilla said. “But right now I have to talk to Cooper.”

“You don’t mind calling Brad?”

“I never mind calling Brad. He never minds helping.”

Cooper screeched again and Rilla left, closing the door behind her to give Harmony some privacy.

Before Harmony could get back to the computer, Lottie began to stir, jiggling the soft sides of the Pack ’n Play until it was clear that in moments she would sit up and start making demands.

Harmony hurried over to scoop her up and hold her close. She breathed in the sweet fragrance of her daughter’s hair until she realized Lottie was beginning to fuss. While these days she got a healthy portion of her calories from other sources, Lottie still liked the closeness of breast-feeding as she woke up, and Harmony liked providing it.

She took the baby to a chair across the room and settled her, tossing a shawl over her shoulder to wrap around the baby for a little privacy.

What would her mother have thought of Lottie? Would she have seen traces of Harmony as a little girl? Lottie’s hair was going to be dark, like her father’s, but her face was shaped like her mother’s, and everybody said the resemblance between them was unmistakable.

Would Janine have seen that? Would it have pleased her? Although she had her father’s paler coloring, Harmony resembled her mother. Dark-haired Lottie might well look like her grandmother had as a baby. There were no photos, of course, and now Harmony would never be able to ask her.

For years, more than anything, she had wanted to help her mother escape. Janine could have come to Asheville with her and started a new life. But she had been too frightened. Harmony knew that at least part of her mother’s refusal had been a desire to protect her beloved daughter. Had Janine disappeared, Rex Stoddard would have turned the world on end searching for his wife. Janine belonged to him, and he would have done anything to find her. Janine had not wanted to lead him in Harmony’s direction.

But what else had played a part? Harmony really didn’t know. Was her mother afraid to be on her own? Had she lost the ability to make decisions for herself because she had been allowed to make so few? Had she begun to believe Rex’s degrading lectures about her incompetence, her lack of skills and talents, her inability to take care of herself? How could those things not play into Janine’s reluctance to abandon everything she knew, even as terrible as her life had become? Could a woman suffer brainwashing all those years and not carry the scars?

Getting away had been hard enough for Harmony, but through the years her hours at school had helped her develop strength and inner resources, fueled at least partly by the contempt she felt for her father. Her mother had encouraged her, too, building up her confidence whenever she could, making it clear that the problems at home had nothing to do with Harmony. At the first opportunity Janine had helped her daughter escape, despite knowing she would pay a heavy price when her husband found out.

Harmony had been so lucky to have Janine to help her, but who had stood up for Janine?

Nobody.

“I wanted to save her,” she told Lottie, brushing her daughter’s silky hair over one ear. “I wanted us to be a family, a real family....” Tears filled her eyes again. She was sure there were more in her future, floods of tears.

“You would have loved her,” she whispered.

Someone knocked on the door, and before she could answer, it opened. Rilla stood on the threshold, a strange expression on her face. “Harmony...”

“You couldn’t have found out anything yet.” Harmony hoped it was true. She wasn’t ready.

“I haven’t even called Brad. No, it’s something else.” She paused, as if she was trying to figure out how best to say what was on her mind.

“Just tell me.” Lottie pushed away and struggled to sit up, and Harmony adjusted her blouse and bra. Then she looked up, as ready as she was going to be.

“There’s a woman at the door. She says she’s here to talk to you about your mother. She wanted to know if she had the right house.”

Harmony could hear a buzzing in her ears. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before she opened them again. “Who is she, did she say?”

“Do you have an aunt?”

The question seemed so strange that for a moment Harmony thought she’d heard wrong. “Aunt?”

“Does your mother have a sister?”

“No. Like I said, she has—had—no family.”

“She’s in the living room waiting.”

“She didn’t give you her name?”

“She refused. She doesn’t seem...comfortable? I think you ought to get out there right now.”

Harmony stood, moving Lottie to her hip. She was probably wet, possibly worse, after her nap, but changing her was the last thing on Harmony’s mind.

Rilla strode over and took the baby. “I’ll change her. You go. I’ll bring her to you when I’m finished.”

“Who do you think the woman is, Rilla? I can tell you have an idea. Is she a cop? Somebody from a newspaper who traced me here?”

Rilla shook her head, but Harmony wouldn’t let it go. She raised her voice. “Who?”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed if I’m wrong.” Rilla paused; then she turned her eyes to the baby for a moment, only looking up when Harmony refused to move.

“I’m not sure she’s planning to stay, so you need to get out there quickly.” Concern and something else shone in her eyes. “Harmony, I think she might be your mother.”

Chapter 4

From the audio journal of a forty-five-year-old woman, taped for the files of Moving On, an underground highway for abused women.

My parents shielded me from life’s darker side, and whatever their reasoning, they never encouraged me to be independent. I was their only child, and their role as parents meant everything to them. Looking back on my life, I see how ripened I was by grief to replace their love and guidance with more of the same. I was also primed to trust strong men who seemed to know what was best for me.

Had the Abuser been anything but kind and charming before we married, I think I would have been smart enough to back away. When we met I still believed I was worthy of a good man, a man like my father who would treasure and protect me. This man was knowledgeable and able to help me settle my parents’ estate, and he seemed to be all the things I wanted. Best of all, he stepped forward to help make the decisions that faced me. He helped me sell the house I had grown up in, helped me drop out of school without penalty so I had an opportunity to heal.

Now, of course, I know this was the beginning of a campaign to strip me of all my connections. My family was gone. Then my home. Finally my college friends. The investments he recommended were long-term, and while sound enough, yielded nothing for my immediate use. By then, of course, that hardly mattered. The Abuser adored me. He wanted me to be his wife. He would support me whenever I decided to finish my degree in early childhood education. We would have the kind of marriage I had witnessed up close.

We would be happy.

* * *

Janine hurried down the farmhouse path toward the road. She hoped leaving the house without waiting to see Harmony wouldn’t scare her. She had promised to tell Bea whatever occurred here, but she hadn’t factored in a lack of cell coverage inside the house. The disposable phone Moving On had given her wasn’t state-of-the-art, and she had nearly used up the minutes that had come with it.

The sun was going down behind mountains, something she wasn’t used to after a lifetime in Kansas. When she was a young teen, her parents had taken her on a camping trip to Colorado, and they had spent two blessed weeks cooking out, hiking and swimming in crystal-clear lakes. She had thought of that trip so many times over the years, sinking back into the memories when her reality was particularly bleak, lulling herself to sleep at night with dreams of a happier time.

The Blue Ridge Mountains were nothing like the Rockies. She wasn’t sure why her daughter had stayed in Asheville when the family who had invited Harmony to live with them had moved to California. Perhaps Harmony hadn’t been able to afford another move, or perhaps she had made so many connections she’d felt secure on her own. But Janine guessed that the natural beauty had affected her decision. The majesty of it, a more approachable majesty than the Rockies, would have appealed to a young woman from the plains almost as much as settling somewhere far from Topeka, a city that would be blighted forever by her childhood memories.

The air under a canopy of hardwoods was turning chilly, and Janine shivered inside somebody else’s jacket. Her body temperature dropped too easily now, probably as a result of the weight she had lost. Losing so much had been easy. She had always been thin, but in the past year her appetite had simply vanished. Her secret would never be marketed in diet books. During meals with Rex she had silently replayed her decision to find a way out of the prison he’d created. Fear of what lay ahead, as well as the consequences if he found her, had made it nearly impossible to eat.

Rex had noticed, of course, but he had seemed pleased. The shadow she had become was the wife he had wanted all along.

As she rounded a curve she wasn’t surprised to find Bea lounging against a tree casually observing the driveway. Tall, wiry, threatening enough that her male colleagues called her Grandma Grouchy, Bea was older than Janine, but even in her sixties she exuded a raw power that Janine found a bit intimidating. Bea was a grandmother, but she was more likely to teach hunting and fishing to her grandsons than to play dress-up with her granddaughters.

“You okay?” she asked when Janine got closer. “This the right house?”

Janine eased Buddy’s backpack into a more comfortable position. “I haven’t seen her yet, but Harmony’s here.”

“You okay, Jan?”

Janine gave a short nod. “The phone didn’t work inside, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You want me to wait?”

“You go on and settle in for the night. If this doesn’t go well...” Janine swallowed, because the rest of the sentence stuck in her throat.

“It’s going to be fine.”

“I’ll find a way into town, and I’ll call the hotline from there.”

“Just call me direct. I’m going to stay nearby and wait while you have that reunion. Things don’t go well tonight, you just give me a buzz, and I’ll come back. I don’t hear, though, we’ll need to be on our way in the morning early. So you have to let me know where to pick you up then.”

Janine realized she was crying. Bea didn’t seem surprised, and her voice softened a little.

“It’s always like this, honey. I’ve seen it too many times before. You been through too much. You been scared practically every minute for years now. You’ll still be scared some, but at least that part will feel familiar. And it will ease.”

Janine wiped her cheeks with her palms.

“We did a good job for you,” Bea said, retrieving a tissue from a pocket and handing it over. “It’s not likely he’s gonna find you. And the house burning down, that was a stroke of good fortune.”

“No, I shouldn’t have burned those photos.”

“Might have been divine intervention. You just being able to squeeze through the first flames without damage to anything but that old coat of yours. That tank going up like some kind of atom bomb.” Bea smiled as Janine finished wiping her eyes. “And now nobody knows if you burned up or ran away or anything else. Including old Rex.”

“They’re looking through those ashes for no good reason. I know he wasn’t in the house.”

“Think of it as good practice for the fire department, forensical training.”

“But where is Rex? Why hasn’t he come forward?”

“This point in your life? You need to stop thinking about Rex, and start thinking about yourself and that girl of yours.”

Janine couldn’t imagine a life in which Rex was not the central figure. “I’ll always be looking behind me.”

“We’ll be keeping an eye out on your behalf, and we’ll get in touch right away if we hear anything you need to know. I’m as sure as I can be that the trail we left won’t lead him in your direction.”

Janine didn’t know what to do next, but as if she sensed that, Bea stepped forward and put her arms around her for a brief hug. “Now you get on back there and have that reunion. Call me if you need me tonight, but be ready to go at first light.”

A whole night with Harmony. If Harmony would have her.

Janine shivered, and not from the cold this time.

Bea started back toward the road, and Janine knew she had to return to the house. She was sorry she had left, because walking up the driveway the first time had been hard enough.

“Hello? Are you still here?”

Janine whirled at the sound of her daughter’s voice somewhere behind her. She started toward the sound, picking up speed as Harmony called again. “Hello!”

“I’m right here,” Janine managed. “I’m coming.”

She rounded the corner and saw her daughter’s familiar figure half loping toward her, the tall, slender body, the long blond hair flying out behind her. She forgot she had ever been frightened that Harmony would reject her. She forgot she’d had serious qualms about coming to Asheville, because now Rex might find their daughter. She could only think that this was her beloved child, whom she had feared she would never see again. And somehow they had been given this moment.

“Mom!” Harmony paused a moment as if making sure she was right. Then her face lit up. “Mom! It really is you!”

They were in each other’s arms in a moment. Janine was laughing, but she felt tears running down her cheeks, too. “Harmony. I thought...I thought—”

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” Harmony held her away but gripped Janine by the shoulders. “I thought you were dead!”

Janine had hoped Harmony wouldn’t learn about the fire, but the fear that she might hear of it had brought her to Asheville. In the end she had realized she had to prove, in person, she was still alive.

“I’m okay. I—” There was so much. Where did she start? Janine realized she was floundering.

“But the house burned to the ground,” Harmony said. “I just found the story on the internet. You weren’t there when it exploded?”

“I was... I mean I wasn’t. I was there when the fire started, but I got out.”

“Was Dad there?”

Janine couldn’t tell from Harmony’s tone what she hoped the answer might be. “No, he was... I don’t know where your father was. Is. I don’t know a thing except that I used... Well, he didn’t come home that night. I—I’d already made plans to leave him, but not quite this soon. Things weren’t quite in—” She stopped.

“You’d made plans?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk? I can’t stay more than the night, but there’s so much—” Janine couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. She was drinking in her daughter’s lovely face.

“What do you mean, you’re not staying?” Harmony tightened her grip on her mother. “Of course you’re staying. Please don’t tell me you’re going back to Kansas.”

“No. No! It’s just—” Janine shivered.

“I’m sorry. You’re cold. We can go up to the house.” She shook her head. “No, we’ll go to my apartment because it’ll be quieter, but I have to get Lottie first.”

“Lottie? Is she...?” Janine’s voice trailed off. The question she’d been about to ask seemed inconceivable, but she knew so little about Harmony’s life. She knew there must be a baby, but not whether the child was a boy or a girl.

“Lottie’s my daughter,” Harmony said, rescuing her. “Charlotte Louise, but she’s Lottie Lou or mostly just Lottie.”

“Who’s taking care of her?”

“Rilla has her. Rilla’s my employer. I live and work here as her assistant.”

“It’s so beautiful. The land. The house.”

“You look tired, Mom. Let me take that.” Harmony hooked a hand under the strap of the backpack and tested the weight. “It’s heavy.”

“Because I have Buddy’s scrapbook inside, but it’s, it’s...” She didn’t want to explain all the details of how she’d gotten away.

“Buddy’s scrapbook?” Harmony seemed surprised.

“It’s all I had left of him.”

Harmony slipped the backpack down Janine’s arm, and Janine gratefully relinquished it. With the loss of twenty pounds had come a significant loss of strength. And the last week had exhausted her.

“Lottie.” Janine managed a smile. “It’s beautiful. I bet she’s beautiful.”

Harmony slung the pack over one shoulder and began walking back the way she’d come. “How did you find me?”

What little energy Janine had was flagging dangerously. She touched her daughter’s hair and catalogued the obvious changes. Harmony had a gold stud in her nose and several piercings in each ear. Her hair was longer. “I need to sit. Can we talk when we’re settled?”

“I’m sorry. Of course. I’ll show you where my place is, and you can wait there. It’s no farther than the house. I’ll get Lottie and join you.” She hesitated. “You won’t leave? You’ll be there waiting?”

“I promise.”

They had reached the farmyard, and Harmony pointed to a building that looked like a garage, tucked not far from the house. “My apartment’s at the top, and the door is never locked. We’ll be right there to join you. I’ll make you hot tea.”

“With lots of milk and sugar?” Janine tried to smile, because whenever she and Harmony had been given the gift of time alone together, that was one of the ways they had celebrated.

“All you want.”

Janine started toward the apartment. Beyond it in a fenced pasture two horses grazed, one lifting a dark head to watch her. In the distance she saw what looked like a garden, although she couldn’t tell for sure because the sky had grown darker in the brief time she’d been here. The garage was painted the same dark spruce as the house, but the stairwell and the garage doors were painted a red so dark it was slowly turning black as twilight descended. Someone, maybe even her daughter, had planted a wide bed of black-eyed Susans and coneflowers along the side of the stairs.

She was so grateful Harmony had landed in this healing place, but she knew so little, not what had brought Harmony here, or how she had coped until she had a job and a place to live. Until now she hadn’t even known her grandchild’s name.

Instead of going upstairs, she sat on the bottom step and listened to the music of crickets as the sky quickly darkened. From the house she thought she heard the voices of children. How old was Lottie? Certainly not old enough to be one of them. Did Harmony help care for the others, too? So many questions, and even if they stayed up talking all night, so little time for answers.

The front door opened, and Harmony came out carrying a child with a blanket thrown around her against the chill of the descending night. As she watched, Harmony turned and spoke to a woman who was now standing in the doorway. Then she started toward her apartment.

Janine stood and waited for them to join her. When Harmony got close enough she pulled back the blanket, and Janine glimpsed her granddaughter for the first time. She immediately saw the resemblance.

“She looks like my baby pictures,” Janine said, reaching out to pull the blanket back a little more. “And she looks so much like you, although her hair’s darker.”

“Rilla warned me the woman waiting for me might be my mother. She said we looked so much alike. All of us. That’s how she knew.”

Janine didn’t ask to hold Lottie, but Lottie held out her arms to her grandmother, and without a word Harmony boosted her closer so Janine could see her better.

“Oh, you are such a beautiful baby,” Janine said, tears filling her eyes again. “And I guess after what I just said about her, that’s bragging, right?”

“She wants you to hold her.”

“May I?”

“Who better?”

Janine took the soft little bundle and placed her on one hip, tucking the blanket securely around her. “How old is she?”

“Nine months. Just.”

“I’ve wondered every single day since you told me you were pregnant.”

“I could have told you myself if I had been allowed to call.”

Janine heard the note of disapproval, but she understood. “Right after you left, your father did everything but hire a detective to find you, Harmony. If you had called while he was there? He would have started searching all over again, beginning with the number you called from. That’s how I found you. The people who helped me get away also helped me trace the last number you used, and eventually they traced you here.”

“I was careful never to call when he was there.”

“You couldn’t know for certain. After you left he took to dropping in on me unannounced during the day, sometimes two or three times, to make sure I was doing what he told me to. I memorized that number, and I was able to delete it from our caller ID that last night we talked. But I might not always have been able to do that before he got to it.”

“Why didn’t you leave him right then? If things were getting worse? If it was possible for things to have gotten worse?”

Too much was at stake. Janine couldn’t hedge the truth. She saw the moon peeking over a stand of trees, between two mountaintops, and she watched it for a moment before she looked back at her daughter.

“Because if I had just walked out the door without a good plan, a foolproof plan, he would have killed me. He still might if he finds me, and that’s why I can’t stay longer than a night. Because if your father traces me here—and he still could, no matter how careful I’ve been—then he might hurt you and the baby, too.”

Chapter 5

Her hands were trembling. Harmony looked down at the spoon grasped in her right hand and watched it wave gently side to side. If she had needed proof she was shaken to the bone by her mother’s arrival, there it was. Of course, Janine’s surprise appearance was especially dramatic, considering that just moments before Harmony had believed she was dead.

In the living room Lottie was laughing as she and Janine played peekaboo. The sound was silvery and unfettered. Harmony loved to make her daughter laugh. She was never sure which of them was the most delighted afterward.

Gripping the spoon tighter, she stirred the milk and sugar she’d managed to get into each mug; then, better safe than sorry, she decided to carry them one at a time.

Despite good intentions, she didn’t move. Her mother was here, but only for the night. And once she left? While she hadn’t said so exactly, Janine had made it clear that once she moved on, she would have little or no contact with her daughter.

All because of the devil who had fathered her.

Harmony caught a glimpse of herself in the glass cabinet front, and for a moment she stared. Did she look anything like Rex Stoddard? She had never seen any outward resemblance, except her coloring. Buddy had looked more like him, a rounder face, one eye that drifted subtly despite two costly surgeries, a high forehead that, at least for Rex, had climbed slowly higher as he began to go bald.

Of course, her brother had died well before he had the chance to lose his hair.

She didn’t want to think about Buddy.

Looks were one thing, but more frightening, did she have any of her father inside her? She had been angry enough at the way he treated his wife and children that she had, as a girl, lain awake at night fantasizing ways to rid the world of Rex Stoddard. They had been childish thoughts, and she had never acted on them, but was that the way her father’s sickness had begun? Had he, too, lain awake at night plotting revenge and destruction?

Rex had never been able to forgive even the smallest slight. A gesture, an offhand remark, an opinion he didn’t share. Rex held on to those things forever and waited. When he finally had the opportunity to get even, he took full advantage of it.

Harmony knew that most of the time she wasn’t that way. She knew from living with her father just how damaging revenge was to the soul. She had witnessed demonstrations again and again, and each time she’d vowed never to be like him.

Sadly, though, in one way they were alike, because there was one person she would never be able to forgive and didn’t even want to try. She was grateful beyond measure that her mother had not died in the explosion that had leveled her childhood house, but a part of her was sorry her father hadn’t been locked inside and unable to escape.

Had he been, she and her mother could finally stop living in fear.

More laughter erupted from the living room, and she knew she had to stiffen her backbone and start a discussion about the future. She gripped the mug handle. Then she turned the corner of her tiny kitchenette and stood in the wide doorway as her mother whisked a blanket from her face and cried “Peekaboo!”

Janine was so thin. That was the first thing Harmony had noticed, followed by shock at how old she looked. She was only forty-five, but she looked at least ten years older, her skin sallow, her hair salted with gray and pulled back in an unflattering low ponytail. She walked like someone in pain, each foot placed carefully in front of the other, as if she wasn’t sure the ground wouldn’t rise to swallow it. Now she was smiling at her granddaughter, but even that smile seemed tentative, as if admitting she was happy might bring down disaster on all of them.

Janine looked up and saw her. “Need help?”

“No, you take this one. I’ll get mine.”

“Lottie’s okay in the bouncer while we drink it?”

“She’ll let us know if she’s not.” Harmony went back for the second cup, then joined her mother on the sofa. Before she sat back, she sprinkled Cheerios on the bouncer tray so Lottie could practice feeding herself.

“Just the way I like it,” Janine said, joining her against the cushions and turning so she could eye her daughter. “You didn’t forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, Mom. I missed you so much.”

“I thought about you every day, but I...” Janine sipped a little tea before she finished. “The only thing I could be proud of was helping you get away.”

“Please tell me what happened. You said you were planning to leave yourself, only not so soon?”

Janine sipped and didn’t answer. Harmony hoped she was figuring out how to tell her story.

Finally she put the mug down on a side table. “I wanted to leave for years. Now it seems like forever, only that’s not true. There was a time...”

“When you...loved him?” Harmony had trouble getting the words out.

“I did. Even despite, well, everything.”

Harmony waited for her to go on, but Janine changed tack. “Then a time came when I knew if I stayed, he...” She shrugged.

“He would kill you.” It wasn’t a question.

Janine gave a short nod. “But it wasn’t just that. I realized I was shrinking. Literally. Because I was always hunched over, trying to protect myself. In other ways, too. Nobody knew me anymore. After you left, for a while your father got more and more possessive and paranoid.”

“I didn’t know he could get more of either.”

“It seemed to multiply every week. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without him, not pick up a library book or a quart of milk. My set of car keys went missing one day, and I never saw them again. And even leaving the house with him was rare. Strangers looked right through me when I did, like I wasn’t there.”

Harmony’s throat was raspy from unshed tears. “Nobody who ever really knew you would have looked through you.”

“I’m afraid your father made sure nobody had that chance.”

“You said you had to have a plan?”

“Women like me are most likely to die after they try to leave the men who abuse them.”

“I know it’s not perfect, but wouldn’t the police have protected you?”

Janine gave one emphatic shake of her head.

Harmony didn’t know why she’d asked. She’d seen too many stories herself about abused women who had been killed on the way to the courthouse to get restraining orders, or even inside the courthouse itself.

Janine said the rest in a rush, with more energy than she’d shown to this point. “One day I realized I could barely get out of bed in the mornings, that even being afraid of what he might do if the house wasn’t clean enough or the dinner perfect enough didn’t motivate me anymore. I knew I had to do something or else. The agency was having its New Year’s open house, and it was one of the few things your father still expected me to attend. It would have looked bad for him if I didn’t go. I met a woman there. She...she suspected. She told me to call her the first moment I could.”

“And she helped?”

“She knew how.” Janine didn’t go on.

“She’d done this before?”

“It took a while...to trust her. You can understand. I was putting my life in her hands. We decided on steps to follow. I was supposed to obey your father’s orders and act like whatever he told me was just meant to protect me from a cold, cruel world. To pretend I didn’t want to go out, that I was afraid of my own shadow, that I needed his guidance. Little by little.”

Harmony tried to remember how her mother had behaved when she was still living at home. Janine had made a point of not arguing with Rex, true, but sometimes she had found clever ways around his edicts. And despite everything she had still smiled, still laughed, still shown a certain joy in living that he hadn’t been able to extinguish.

There had been moments, days, even weeks, when their lives hadn’t seemed that much different from those of other families. Janine had known how to diffuse her father’s anger. Or make herself the brunt of it. But she had been actively involved in life. The spark inside her had never been extinguished.

“Did he go for it?” Harmony asked.

“It seemed to be working. He was still violent, erratic, but after a while he...well, he was different. I made mistakes and he didn’t always notice. At first I thought he believed I’d changed, that I had finally become the wife he wanted, and he was cutting me some slack. Then I realized he just didn’t seem to care that much. I wondered if he had figured out my acceptance of our life together was a lie, and he was just waiting for me to prove it.”

“Do you still think he knew?”

“No, I don’t.” Janine bit her lip. “Because if he had figured out I was going to leave him...” She didn’t have to finish.

“Then what? Frustrations at work, maybe? Something else going on?”

Janine turned both palms up, as if to say Who knows?

Harmony thought this replay of the past had gone as far as it could. What her father felt about anything, or what had gone on in his life outside the home, was of no interest to her. Rex Stoddard might think he was the center of the universe, but that wasn’t a universe she wanted to inhabit again. She changed direction. “Before, when we were outside, you said he didn’t come home the night of the fire. But you don’t know where he was?”

“It had happened before, some kind of game he played for years, leaving town without notice. He had all kinds of ways of checking on me while he was gone. Sometimes he would line up repair men to conduct roof inspections or clean out our septic tank. Then they were required to report what they found by phone immediately. The first question Rex always asked was ‘And my wife was there to show you around?’ I heard their answers, so I knew.”

“I never realized.”

“Sometimes he was watching the house, testing me. Sometimes he was really out of town, but he didn’t tell me ahead of time in case I used the opportunity to leave. This time I don’t know what happened. But I knew I might not get a chance like it again. And even if I wasn’t prepared completely?” She swallowed hard, audibly, as if the fear was still there waiting to choke her. “I was ready enough,” she finished.

“What about the fire? Did you set it to make escaping easier?”

Janine looked shocked. “Oh, no.”

“Then what happened?”

“It was stupid. Impulsive. As I was leaving, I burned all the photos on the downstairs table. I took them out of their frames, and I burned them. Whenever he finally came home, I wanted him to know how I really felt about our life together.”

Harmony stared at her. “Wow, he loved those photos.”

“You called that table the zoo, remember? You said we were like caged animals on display.”

Harmony did remember. She had despised every attempt to portray them as the all-American family. The photos in the entryway. The four of them sharing hymnals in the same pew every Sunday. Cheering together from the bleachers the year Buddy had been a linebacker on the high school football team.

Then going home together after the team lost and listening to her father criticize every play her brother had made.

“How did the fire start if you didn’t start it on purpose?”

“I can only guess. I’d left earlier and was already at the edge of the woods when I remembered Buddy’s scrapbook. I went back, and on the way to the stairs I saw those photos and...I just snapped. I burned them in your father’s favorite ashtray.”

Harmony remembered talking to friends at school whose parents smoked. She had been the only one who’d wished her father would smoke more and suffer the consequences.

“I went upstairs,” Janine continued, “but it took me some time to find the scrapbook. When I came out of Buddy’s room, the stairs were on fire. Your father took up the runner just a few weeks ago and refinished the steps by himself. The house still smelled like varnish. Maybe whatever he used?” She shrugged.

“But how did you get past the fire?”

“I was wearing my heavy coat because I knew I might need it later. I took it off and used it to beat back the flames so I could make it outside before the whole place went up. Then I didn’t look back. I was gone, really gone, well before the tank exploded.”

“Nobody saw the fire? Nobody reported it?”

“It was the middle of the night, and you know how far away the neighbors are. I don’t think anyone realized the house was on fire until the explosion. Then probably everyone within twenty miles knew.”

Lottie, tired of bouncing and ready for dinner, finally began to whimper. Harmony went into the kitchen to retrieve cereal and organic pears she had prepared that morning—which now seemed like years ago. By the time she returned, Janine had lifted the baby out of her chair and was walking the length of the small living room, murmuring softly.

“She likes you,” Harmony said. “She’s going to love having you here.”

“I can’t stay. I wouldn’t have come at all, but I was afraid you might hear about the fire and be absolutely beside yourself.”

“You could have called.”

“No, I thought you needed to see me, to be sure it wasn’t some sort of hoax.”

“I think you needed to see us.”

Janine fell silent.

“Dad hasn’t traced me here yet,” Harmony said. “And I’ve been gone for years.”

“Your dad never had as much motivation as he does now. Now he’s going to be looking for both of us, and looking hard.”

“That’s part of why you didn’t leave before, isn’t it? Because you were afraid he would double his efforts to search for me as a way to find you.”

Janine didn’t deny it. “He will. Which is why I have to leave in the morning.” She seemed to hesitate; then, as she handed Lottie to Harmony, her voice grew softer.

“He’ll think I’ve traveled west.”

“West? Why?”

“That was part of the plan. Things were in place.”

“You mean that’s what you planned? To go west?”

“No, but he’ll think that’s what I did.”

Harmony settled Lottie in her high chair and pulled a chair up beside her. She gave the baby a plastic spoon to play with as she fed her because she was in no mood to let Lottie fling food all over the living room.

The details of Janine’s escape niggled at her, but compared to her mother’s future, the past seemed unimportant.

“If he has good reason to think you’ve gone west, then you can stay here. Has he ever said anything to make you think he knows I’m in North Carolina?”

“It’s no good, honey. I can’t risk it. If he does find you, God forbid, I don’t think he’ll hurt you if I’m not with you. You’re settled here. He knows you have friends who could come forward to protect you. If he shows up you can even tell him the truth, that I was here but I wouldn’t tell you where I was headed. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it—”

“It’s not going to come to that, because you’re going to stay with me in Asheville. Or if you absolutely refuse, then I’m going with you. Wherever you go.”

“You can’t. The only good thing about you leaving home was that I didn’t have to be afraid for both of us anymore. I can’t live that way again, being afraid all the time that he’ll show up one day and harm us both, and maybe the baby, too.”

“Does he know about the baby?”

“He’s never said anything.”

Harmony thought that answer was as good as a no, because when her father was angry, everything came out. If he’d learned about Lottie, he would have flung the baby’s birth at her mother and blamed her for not raising Harmony to be chaste.

“This is North Carolina. Rex Stoddard has no friends here, no link to the community. We’ll talk to the sheriff and ask how we can best protect ourselves.”

“We might as well call your dad and give him our address. We can’t involve the authorities. They keep records. Records can be located.” Janine came to stand beside her daughter. “That’s what I mean, honey. Those kinds of slipups are too common when more than one person is involved.”

Harmony fed Lottie another spoonful of cereal, then swiveled to face her mother. “Hasn’t he run your life long enough? Are we going to spend the rest of our days letting Rex Stoddard make all our decisions? I’m kind of out of the habit, and frankly, I’m a lot happier. Even if I know he’s still a threat, I’m willing to take my chances.”

Janine’s exhaustion was showing, her mouth drooping, her eyes puffy. “I would give almost anything to change things, but not your safety.”

Harmony could feel her mother slipping away again, and she wasn’t willing to let her. “Then you and Lottie and I will take new names, get new documents. Somebody will help with that. We’ll move to a big city where everybody’s anonymous. You can take care of her while I work.”

“No, you aren’t going to give this up.” Janine lifted a hand to indicate everything around them. “I won’t allow that. There are ways we can stay in touch. Then, after time passes, maybe if things have improved or changed significantly, we can see each other again. Find a place to meet and plan carefully.”

“You’re just going to disappear, aren’t you? Like that.” Harmony snapped her fingers. “And you think that will make things okay? That now I won’t be worried every minute? That I won’t lose sleep at night picturing you just a step ahead of him? Or dead by his hand and me not knowing?”

“Honey, I—”

“No! You didn’t think this through. You’re back in my life, and no matter what you do or where you go, you can’t change what you’ve already done.” She handed a piece of whole wheat toast to Lottie and stood. “I knew what you were facing before. Do you think I ever forgot for one moment what you were going through every day back in Topeka? But I thought it was your choice, that you just didn’t have the strength to get out or maybe even the desire. Now I know you do.”

“I can’t stay here. You don’t have enough room. I know you don’t make enough money to support us both, and what hope do I have of finding a job way out here? You don’t need me for child care. I think you’ve managed that just fine. I have no place here, and it’s dangerous.”

“We’ll find a way.” Harmony nodded as she spoke. “Just tell me you’re willing to stop running. That we can stand together now, the way we used to. Tell me the mother I love, the one who raised me to be strong despite everything going on around me, is still in there. The mother who accidentally set our house on fire and still managed to escape. The one who traced me here and came to make sure I knew she was okay.”

“Honey—”

Harmony wouldn’t let her finish. She rested her arms on her mother’s shoulders. “Tell me that mother’s going to stay here and start a whole new life. You can change your name and the color of your hair, but please don’t let that mother escape again. Promise me you won’t.”

Chapter 6

Taylor Martin braked in the driveway of the Reynolds Farm and wished she could turn the car around and take Maddie home, where her daughter could pout and complain out of earshot. She was fairly certain that not having an audience wouldn’t actually stop Maddie—there was always a girlfriend at the end of the phone line to sympathize—but better a prepubescent peer than Taylor herself.

Instead, because Harmony was waiting for them, she came to a stop and waited for the girl to fall silent. She reminded herself that for most of Maddie’s existence, Taylor had only hoped for a normal life for her child, a life in which every move, every decision, wasn’t factored through the reality of epileptic seizures.

Now, following surgery that had transformed Maddie’s future, she had her wish. These days every move, every decision was instead factored through the normal reality of approaching adolescence. And at eleven, this was just the beginning.

“Are we finished?” she asked when the only remaining sound was the twilight serenade of crickets in the woods nearby and, from closer to the house, the grouchy bleating of a goat.

“We weren’t talking. I was talking, and you weren’t listening.”

“You’re wrong. I heard every word you said. I am not going to leave you at home alone in the evenings when your grandfather can’t stay with you. You are only eleven, and now that we’ve moved, we don’t know our neighbors well enough to ask them to intervene in an emergency. For now, you’re going to have to buck up and go to meetings and classes with me.”

“You don’t trust me.”

Taylor turned to face her daughter’s profile. “Are you going to spoil our fun tonight? Harmony doesn’t get many chances to get away without Lottie. I think she’s looking forward to having dinner together and watching a movie. I hope she won’t regret going with us.”

Maddie said something that wasn’t audible, which was probably a good thing. Then she muttered louder, “Can I have a hamburger? I eat them in Tennessee.”

Taylor tried not to smile. She had raised her daughter to be a vegetarian. Harmony was a vegetarian. Of course eating meat in front of them would be Maddie’s revenge.

“You can have anything you want. You know that. As long as you have vegetables with it.”

“French fries are a vegetable.”

“Healthy vegetables,” Taylor amended. “I know you eat meat when you’re at your father’s house, but he tells me he’s also big on salads and cooked veggies, and he limits fried foods to special treats.”

“I liked it better when the two of you weren’t speaking.”

Actually Maddie hadn’t liked that at all, since the discord between Jeremy Larsen and Taylor had been tough on everybody. But now that her parents were on better terms, it was easier for them to present a united front, along with Jeremy’s wife, Willow, who was an excellent stepmother and followed their lead.

“You could probably stay here and help Rilla with Lottie and the boys,” Taylor said. “I could pick you up again when I drop off Harmony tonight.”

“It’s kind of weird that you two are friends now.”

“Why? We’re both goddesses. We see each other a lot.”

Taylor and Harmony were both trustees of a house in the mountains near Asheville that had been left to a small group of women by Charlotte Hale, Taylor’s mother. Because Charlotte had particularly loved the story of Kuan Yin, a Buddhist goddess who had remained on earth anonymously after death to continue helping those who suffered, they had taken the name Goddesses Anonymous for their little group. Together they tried in whatever ways they could to follow the example of Kuan Yin and help other women who might need them.

Not that any of them really thought they lived up to Kuan Yin’s standard.

“Well, I think it’s weird because Harmony was friends with Grandma when you weren’t even speaking to her. You’re like...rivals.”

Taylor wondered why this had never come up before. She wondered if Maddie and her close friend Edna, daughter of Samantha, another of the goddesses, had been discussing it.

“Life is complicated,” Taylor said, and without looking she could imagine Maddie’s eyes rolling. “Here’s what you need to learn from everything that happened with Mom and me. We loved each other, but we let our differences get in the way. I held a grudge for years, almost to the end of her life, and I was wrong to do that. Very wrong. Your grandmother wanted badly for us to be close again, and when she couldn’t make that happen she kind of adopted Harmony, who needed her.”

“And you don’t feel jealous?”

Taylor did look at Maddie now and saw that she was actually engaged in the conversation, interested. Her brown hair fell around her earnest little face. “I don’t. I feel humbled.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I wish I could do something for Harmony to pay her back for what she did for Mom, Maddie. Because she really helped your grandmother feel like she had a reason to live and a place in the world, something I didn’t do until it was almost too late.”

“But she died, anyway.”

“Yeah, she did. But she died knowing she’d made a difference. And thanks to Harmony, who helped me see what a mistake I was making, your grandmother died knowing how much I loved her, despite everything. And she got to spend time with you, which meant everything to her.”

“That is complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” Taylor started the car again and shifted into drive. “So no, I’m not jealous. Harmony was like a bridge where your grandmother and I could meet after too many years apart. She probably doesn’t realize how much she did for us both.”

“Why did Harmony need Grandma? Doesn’t she have family?”

Taylor knew that was Harmony’s story to tell and not hers. “She couldn’t be with them. I think there are problems there.”

“The kind you had with Grandma?”

“I don’t know the whole story.”

“And now that Grandma’s gone, Harmony’s all alone?” Maddie paused and thought that through. “No, I guess she has lots of people. All the goddesses, for sure.”

“So let’s go feed her and take her to a movie. What do you say?”

“That’s pretty lame after all she did for us.” Now Maddie sounded bored.

Taylor knew their moment of communication had ended. These days her daughter was as difficult to predict as the autumn weather, and often as stormy.

“It’s a start,” she said as she drove toward the house.

Taylor had expected to meet Harmony at the Reynoldses’ house, since that was where Lottie was supposed to spend the evening, but when they pulled into the farmyard she saw that all the lights were on in the garage apartment where Harmony lived.

“I guess she’s at her own place,” she said, and parked near the base of the stairs. “She’s probably getting Lottie’s things for Rilla.”

Outside the car Taylor took a moment to stretch. She was physically active, too active sometimes, and late this afternoon before enticing Maddie into the car she had taught a ninety-minute hot yoga class in a 105-degree studio. While she had carefully hydrated before and after, she realized she was still thirsty. On top of a full morning of consulting with the contractors who were turning an old building in the River Arts District into Evolution, a brand-new health and wellness studio, she was dragging.

“I would like living in the country,” Maddie said. “Daddy and Willow do. It’s so peaceful there, and nobody bothers you.”

Taylor lifted her hair off the back of her neck and wondered if she ought to cut it boy-short again if she was going to work this hard. “Nobody bothers us at home in Asheville, either.”

“But you could leave me alone in the country and not worry.”

“Get over it, kiddo. I wouldn’t leave you alone anywhere. Let’s go get Harmony.” Taylor started toward the steps, but the grumbling Maddie didn’t follow. Velvet, Harmony’s golden retriever and the mother of their own dog, Vanilla, came around the corner, and Maddie squatted to pet her.

“We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Taylor told her, and escaped.

Upstairs on the tiny porch she heard women’s voices from inside the apartment. Assuming that Rilla was helping Harmony get Lottie ready, she waited, but when Harmony opened the door and Taylor saw an older woman who strongly resembled her friend, she wondered if she had been wrong about their plans for the night.

“Taylor...” Harmony looked surprised, too; then she shook her head. “It’s later than I thought. I lost track of the time.” She hesitated, then stepped aside and let Taylor in.

“If something came up we can go another evening.” Taylor smiled at Harmony’s visitor, who was holding Lottie. Then before she could stop herself she asked, “You look familiar. Have we met?”

“I’m Jan,” the woman said, and returned Taylor’s smile with a strained one of her own.

Harmony was looking back and forth between the two women, as if she was trying to decide what to say. Finally she shrugged. “Mom, Taylor isn’t going to tell anybody you were here. You don’t have to worry.”

Jan looked troubled, but she gave a short nod.

Harmony turned back to Taylor. “This is my mother, Janine Stoddard. She just arrived.”

“Jan,” the woman said. “I always preferred it.”

“I never heard anybody call you Jan,” Harmony said.

“Because your father preferred Janine.”

Taylor was trying to remember everything she knew about Harmony’s family life, but none of this was making sense. “Are you visiting?” she asked. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”

“I’m just here for the night,” Jan said.

Taylor realized now that Harmony had been crying and still looked upset. “Look, this is obviously a bad time for me to be here.”

But Harmony was already addressing her mother. “Mom, we can be honest about why you’re here. Taylor knows about Dad.”

Jan looked unhappy at Harmony’s words, and Taylor grew even more uncomfortable.

“I ought to leave,” Taylor said.

“Mom left my father. She finally managed to get away. And I’m trying to get her to stay here with me.”

Now Taylor was at a complete loss. “I shouldn’t be involved.”

“It’s complicated,” Jan said, as if she hoped that would put an end to the discussion.

“My father’s a scary man,” Harmony went on, ignoring Taylor’s protests and her mother’s obvious discomfort. “She’s been afraid to leave him for years, because she knew if he found her he would retaliate, and now that she’s done it, she’s afraid if she stays he’ll trace her here and take it out on me, or even on Lottie.”

Taylor wasn’t sure now whether she was feeling light-headed from the hot yoga or the conversation. Whatever it was, she suddenly felt weak-kneed. “I think I need a glass of water and a place to sit.”

Without a word Harmony motioned to the sofa and left for the kitchenette. Taylor gratefully took a seat while Jan walked back and forth with the baby.

“I know this sounds crazy,” Harmony said when she returned with a glass. “I’m sorry you walked into the middle of it.”

Taylor drank half the water before she finally rested the glass on her jean-clad knee. “He’s that bad?” She addressed the question to Jan.

Jan looked torn. She didn’t answer.

“You left him, but you can’t admit how frightening he is?” Harmony asked her mother. “Can’t you tell her how many times he hit you or how many bones he’s broken?”

“He’s possessive and...” Jan hesitated, then lifted her eyes to Taylor’s. “I’m afraid he’s capable of almost anything where I’m concerned.”

“Has he ever hurt anybody else?”

“He’s a successful businessman,” Harmony said. “He’s also a deacon in our church, and he used to be on the boards of two charities, maybe still is. I don’t think anybody really likes him, but they respect him well enough. Unless he changed after I left home, he was careful to save his fury for his family, mostly Mom. When he was angry at other people, his revenge was always more subtle or aimed at us.” She looked at her mother. “Is that still accurate?”

Jan looked distressed, but she nodded.

“He sounds like a monster,” Taylor said, and waited for Jan to deny it. When she didn’t, Taylor began to get the full picture.

She wished one of the other goddesses, Analiese or Georgia, had walked into this instead of her. They were both older and more experienced. Analiese was a minister, used to dealing with family problems, and Georgia was a school administrator who worked with difficult kids and their difficult home lives every day. Her own degree was in health and wellness promotion, and it had never prepared her for this.

But she was here, and they were not.

“What can I do?” she asked, when nothing more profound occurred to her.

Jan was a slight woman, rail thin and haggard, but now that she was inside, Taylor could see even more clearly the resemblance to Harmony. “There’s nothing to do. I have to leave. I can’t stay here.”

Her conviction was absolute. Taylor could hear it. “But where will you go?”

“I’ve laid plans. I’ve been...working on getting away for a long time, and I have help.”

“Mom says Dad will think she’s gone west.”

“But you’re not going west?” Taylor asked.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Harmony said. “She’s going to stay here, with her daughter and granddaughter. Dad’s not going to find us. I’ve been in Asheville since high school graduation, and he never traced me here.”

Taylor thought Harmony was being a bit naive. Motivation was a powerful factor. If Harmony’s father viewed his wife as property he’d been robbed of, he would undoubtedly do anything to find her.

“Do you have another place you really want to go?” Taylor asked Jan. She watched as Jan looked down at her granddaughter, and before she looked up again the longing on her face was clear and strong.

“It’s not about wanting to go anywhere. I just know I can’t stay here. And Harmony and Lottie can’t come with me. We shouldn’t be in the same place at the same time... Not until I know Rex isn’t looking anymore.”

“How will you know that?”

“People are watching him.”

Taylor liked the sound of that. “Then they’ll be able to keep track of where he is and when?”

“Not every moment.”

“But generally.”

Jan shrugged.

“Can you be nearby?” Taylor asked. “Where you and Harmony can see each other sometimes if you’re careful? At least until you know it’s safe?”

“It would be safer to be far away.”

“Okay, safer, maybe, but would it be safe enough to be, say, on the other side of Asheville, with somebody who knows you both?”

“I...”

“You?” Harmony asked.

“I’m twenty miles away, and you and I don’t see each other very often. We’re both too busy and it’s too far to be easy.” Taylor realized she and Harmony were making plans for Jan without consulting her.

She turned to Harmony’s mother. “Jan, I just moved into my father’s house in a quiet neighborhood. He’s living in a condo, and Maddie, my daughter, and I needed more room, so we bought his place, although he still uses the workshop out back, so he’s around a lot. Maddie’s eleven. We have an extra bedroom where you can stay.”

“I couldn’t—”

Taylor suddenly realized how ideal this could be. “Look, it’s not charity. Please don’t think of it that way. Maddie and I fought all the way over here because she hates the way I drag her to classes and meetings. I’m renovating an old warehouse, and turning it into a health and wellness center, and I can’t leave Maddie alone at night if I have to go over to the site or teach a class. Sometimes my dad or her father’s parents can stay with her, and sometimes she can go to a friend’s house. But on school nights that’s not a great idea. She thinks she’s too old for a babysitter. But if you were staying with us, anyway...” She let her voice trail off.

“Mom, that would work, wouldn’t it?” Harmony was pleading. “Taylor’s a good half hour away from here. If we were really careful we could still see each other sometimes. And I would know where you were and how you were doing. It’s perfect.”

“And if Rex finds me at your house?” Jan asked Taylor.

The silence was heavy for a moment, until Taylor sat forward. “We live in a neighborhood with people all around us. And you said yourself he’s only violent with his own family.”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“He was never violent in public,” Harmony said. “I think—” She stopped.

“What?” Taylor asked.

Harmony looked at her mother. “If he located you and wanted to hurt you, Mom, he would make sure to get you off by yourself. He wouldn’t do it in front of anybody else or anywhere he might get caught. I don’t think there’s a chance he would want anybody to see or know what he’d done unless there was no other choice. He’s too smart to risk hurting strangers.”

“It’s taking too big a risk.”

Taylor’s mind was whirling. “Isn’t anywhere a risk? Are you going to live by yourself for the rest of your life because he might find you and hurt somebody in your house, or on your block, or in your city? You’ll always be near somebody. This is as good a situation as there is. We’ll be alert, and we’ll be careful, plus he’s got to realize that by now all kinds of people must know the story behind your escape, so he would be the first suspect if anything happened to any of us. I’ll get a security system. And if people are watching him in...” She looked at Harmony for help.

“Topeka.”

“Topeka,” Taylor said, “then with luck we’ll have warning if he leaves town, so we can be extra vigilant.”

Jan was shaking her head. “You have a child? You want to expose her to this?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll run this by a friend who knows more about this kind of thing than I do. But I think she’ll agree that Maddie and I aren’t taking much of a risk. If she doesn’t agree, we’ll figure out something else.”

Jan still looked torn, but she didn’t say no.

“How careful have you been?” Taylor asked. “How good is the trail that’s supposed to lead him out West if he looks for you?”

Jan looked away. “It’s not complete yet. I...I left before we had everything in place.”

“But?” Taylor heard that word in Jan’s voice.

“The people who are helping me are very good,” she said at last.

“They’ve done this before?”

Jan nodded.

“With success?”

She nodded again.

“Jan, I think you have to take another chance.” Taylor got to her feet and held out her arms for Lottie, who held out her own and went right into them. “You left this man and you arranged for help to do it. You made it all the way here to be with Harmony and see your granddaughter. You’re resourceful and obviously careful, and you’re being helped by people who are both, as well. We can be both, too. Don’t sell yourself short, and don’t sell us short. We can make this safe for everybody and help you get a new start.”

“It’s asking too much.”

Taylor looked at Harmony, whose eyes were welling with tears. Then she looked back at Jan, whose eyes were beginning to brim, too.

She settled Lottie on her hip, and lightly rested her free hand on Jan’s shoulder and squeezed. “I owe your daughter so much, Jan. I’ll tell you the whole story once you’re settled in your room at my house. But let me do this for Harmony. Let me do this for you, okay? Let me do this for me.”

Chapter 7

From the audio journal of a forty-five-year-old woman, taped for the files of Moving On, an underground highway for abused women.

Before I married, were there signs that all wasn’t what it seemed? Were there moments when my confidence in our happy future was shaken?

Had I been educated enough, wary enough, perhaps, I might have wondered why the Abuser was in such a hurry to put a ring on my finger. Or why he often planned surprises on the nights I intended to spend with my friends. Or why he suggested we begin a family immediately after we married instead of waiting until I completed my degree. I might have wondered why the house he bought had no immediate neighbors, or why he worried so frequently and loudly about our city’s dangerous traffic that I began to question my own ability to drive through it.

But the Abuser and his kind are masters of subtlety and excuses. He was in a hurry to marry because he loved me so much. He always seemed genuinely sorry that I’d made other plans when he arrived for a surprise date. Why not have children while we were young, so we could still travel and enjoy ourselves after they left home? Didn’t I love the countryside, where I could have a larger house? Not only was the country lovely, but I was safer there, outside the city, with all its hazards.

In those early months, before we said our vows, he never lifted a hand to me. He rarely even lifted his voice, although he did talk over my comments frequently enough that alarm bells should have sounded. Nor was he aggressive or belligerent when we were in the company of others. Not that we often were. The Abuser wanted me all to himself, and like the romantic girl I was, I thought that showed how much he loved me.

He was often critical of others, but less often of me. When he did criticize, his words were framed as suggestions, patiently issued, lovingly meant. He wanted the best for me. A friend I’d chosen, an activity I loved? Perhaps there were better options.

I can’t place all the blame on the man I chose to marry. I wanted to be loved and taken care of. I wanted to believe that someone could turn my sadness to joy, and I could be happy again. I had never learned one of life’s most important lessons. I am responsible for my own happiness. Letting somebody else take on that responsibility was like diving into murky waters without checking for rocks or sharks.

* * *

Jan stared out the side window of her new bedroom at a narrow pergola adorned with hanging flower baskets.

“Like I said, this was my father’s house,” Taylor said from the doorway. “He’s an architect and of course, he can’t leave anything alone. This used to be a pretty standard little ranch house, but when he finished, it was sort of modern Asian, sleek, stark....”

“It’s anything but stark now. It’s lovely.” Jan turned and saw that Taylor’s arms were filled with fresh linens. She made a pretty picture, chin-length dark hair falling forward, sheets and blankets piled in front of a willowy body. Before Jan could take them, Taylor set them on the white bedspread.

“Oh, it was lovely when he finished it, too, but Maddie and I wanted something a little warmer. It was pretty masculine. So we painted the siding cream, added shutters to match the porch pillars and planted flowers everywhere. A lot of the furniture was Dad’s, but we added pillows and slipcovers, rugs on the floors and lots of things on the walls. We tried not to go overboard, though. We wanted simplicity. Not too girly.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. Will the room be okay? It’s not huge, but having your own bath is a plus. I’m guessing before too long Maddie’s going to be camping out in hers. I did when I was a teenager.”

Harmony had never been allowed to camp out in their bathroom. She and Buddy had shared the one in the upstairs hallway, and he had often lingered until it was almost time to drive to school, just to point out that a man’s needs always took priority.

“Jan?”

Jan realized Taylor had asked a question. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. It will be more than okay. It’s perfect.”

“Good, then. Would you like to share a glass of wine before dinner?”

“I’m sorry I ruined your plans to go out with Harmony tonight.”

“I don’t think she’s a bit sorry you showed up, do you? And Maddie’s thrilled because her friend Edna just called, and she and Vanilla are heading over there to spend the night. I never would have heard the end of it if she’d missed that chance.”

Jan had already been introduced to Vanilla, the grown puppy of Velvet, Harmony’s dog, and the smallish golden doodle had won her heart by offering a paw on introduction. “I can’t remember the last time I had a glass of wine.”

Taylor nodded. “Okay, you don’t drink. I’ll remember that.”

“No. I didn’t drink because my husband...” She managed a smile. “I would love a glass of wine.”

“Great. Once you’re settled, come in the kitchen and talk to me while I cook. Harmony warned you I’m a vegetarian, right?”

“Harmony says she’s a vegetarian, too.”

Taylor turned to go. “I hope you didn’t mind not spending the night with her tonight, but it just seemed to make sense to bring you here right away and let you settle in. It gives you a chance to see how you like it, just in case.”

Jan knew that “just in case” meant that if she didn’t like it, she could still leave town in the morning, as planned. That was the compromise they had all come up with. Taylor would have time to consider the safety issues, and Jan would have time to get used to the idea of staying in Asheville.

Of course, it was also clear that if she did decide to leave, she would break her daughter’s heart.

She had brought so little with her that it only took a minute to empty her clothes into a drawer and store her few toiletries on the bathroom counter. Once she’d had time to squeeze Buddy’s scrapbook into the old Scout backpack, it had taken up most of the room. The few other things she had brought were a testament to her desire to leave the past behind. She’d brought no jewelry except her watch, and that only because she’d worried she might need to know the time during her escape. Rex had given her the pretty jewel-encrusted Bulova on her last birthday, and the moment she was sure she no longer needed it, she would donate it to the Salvation Army.

Rex had given her lots of jewelry over the years, and now most likely every bit of it had melted in the fire. Most of the necklaces and bracelets had come with sincere apologies instead of wrapping paper. He hadn’t meant to hit her last night, but she should have known he wouldn’t like A, B or C. He hadn’t meant to take out his bad day on her, but didn’t she know by now that she needed to stay clear of him when things weren’t going well at the office?

She had dutifully worn every bit, faithfully keeping track of each item. Had she not worn a particular piece, he would have been angry all over again, and the cycle would have been eternally perpetuated.

All gone now.

She felt herself smiling a little. “Good riddance,” she said softly.

She combed her hair and wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror. In the past year she hadn’t bothered to visit a salon, a process she hated, anyway. Inevitably Rex would go along, and then he would sit nearby and instruct the stylist on what he wanted her to do. No layers, no bangs, not too short. Plain and simple, like the woman he had married.

“Simpleminded, more likely.” She realized she was talking to herself.

“Which is what happens when you’re the only decent person in the house to talk to,” she said, then clamped her lips shut to cut off the conversational flow and went back into the bedroom.

The room was small, but it was comfortable and comforting. There was room for a double bed, a nightstand and a dresser, plus a television stand in the corner with a small flat-screen and DVD player. The walls were a pale sea-green, dotted with impressionistic seascapes and a trio of embroidered samplers from a time when they were a requirement for learning needlework skills. She leaned forward and read the motto on the closest. “‘To thine own self be true,’” she read out loud.

Had she paid attention to that saying earlier, she would be either happily divorced or dead. She wasn’t taking bets on which way things would have gone.

She headed toward the kitchen.

She liked the open-floor plan, which made the smallish house seem larger. Only a granite counter separated the kitchen and living area, although an Oriental carpet in muted tones, and plush sofas and chairs, broke up the long expanse of cherry flooring. Taylor was setting two wine bottles on the counter when Jan approached. Jan saw she had changed into leggings and a long green T-shirt that said “Namaste” on the front under what might be a lotus blossom, but thankfully, since she had nothing clean to change into herself, the theme was casual.

“White or red?” Taylor asked. “I’ll warn you, I’m no connoisseur. I buy good wine on sale, but then you have to ask yourself why the store is trying to get rid of it.”

“I’m less of one than you are.” Rex had been against drinking, holidays, dancing. She had often wondered if he was afraid alcohol or just plain fun might dull the pain of her life with him.

“I’m having red,” Taylor said.

Jan realized that again she hadn’t answered a question. “Perfect.”

Taylor poured two glasses and motioned for Jan to take her pick. “I’m a vegetarian, not a vegan, so I’ve got cheese and crackers. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be hungry again,” Jan said, before she realized how that sounded. “I mean...” She couldn’t find a way to explain.

“You mean you’ve been through hell and that puts a dent in your appetite,” Taylor said. “At the worst times in my life I’ve stopped eating, too. I’m not sure which is worse for us, stuffing ourselves over every trauma or forgetting that skipping meals makes us susceptible to worse depression and every little germ in the hemisphere.”

“Put like that, cheese and crackers sounds like a plan.”

Taylor smiled, and the room seemed to glow. She was an attractive young woman, but her brown eyes were luminous, and when she smiled, she approached beauty. “As Maddie moves toward puberty I get better and better at instilling guilt in those around me,” she said.

Jan heard herself laugh and hardly recognized the sound. “It’s called developing parenting skills.”

“Did you have to do that with Harmony?”

“It was more my job to make her outlook on life as guilt free as possible. I wanted her to look beyond what was going on at home and believe in herself.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time.” Taylor returned from the refrigerator with a block of cheese and set it on a cutting board. “Will you slice this for us?”

Jan sawed away, and as she did she realized she was growing hungry, which might have been Taylor’s plan. “I promise I’m not going to bore you with stories from our past. I owe you more than that for offering your house to me for a while.”

“That’s fair enough, but—”

Jan’s cell phone rang. She looked up. “I’m sorry, I need to get this.”

“Go ahead. I’ll start dinner.”

Jan answered and took the phone into the living area, where she hoped she wouldn’t disturb Taylor.

“Bea?” she asked.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, but, well, there’s been a change of plans.” Briefly Jan outlined what she, Harmony and Taylor had come up with. Then she waited, expecting Bea to protest.

“That’s as good as any idea the rest of us had,” Bea said instead. “I like it.”

“Really?”

“Nothing sacred about New Hampshire, woman. That was just one place to store you for a while. I might be worried if you were staying right there with your girl, but it sounds like you’ll be far enough away to make a difference. Nothing beats being with friends who’ll watch out for you, either.”

“I’m worried if Rex finds me, he might hurt my hostess or her daughter.”

“You need to remember something. We’ve done this more than fifty times. We never had nobody traced. So he’s not going to find you, and if he does, Rex won’t hurt nobody but you. He’s not on drugs. He don’t even drink, so he keeps his head more than some and calculates. He thinks he’s a big man in the community, so he’s not going to risk that. Your friends will be safe, and I think you will be, too. You just be careful, and if you get too worried, we’ll move you again. Get yourself a better phone for everyday use, only use cash, no credit, and don’t give them any info. Keep this phone just to call me, add minutes here and there and I’ll know who’s calling when I see the number.”

“Do you know if anybody’s seen him yet?”

“Nobody’s sighted the man, so they’re still sifting the ashes, and far as I know the authorities aren’t looking anyplace else for him. Not yet.”

“Where could he be?”

“The minute we know, we’ll be watching him. You just go on and start your new life. Be careful, but not so careful you’re not happy.”

“You’ve been so wonderful. How can I repay you?”

“Just help somebody else when you can.”

Jan said goodbye and put the phone back in her pocket before she turned.

Taylor, at the counter, didn’t pretend she hadn’t heard the conversation. “Just so you know, while you were unpacking I called the friend I mentioned and asked her opinion on whether it’s too much of a risk to have you here. She’s a nurse with some experience with domestic violence. She said the first two years after you leave a situation like yours are the most dangerous, and you’ll have to be careful, but putting distance between you was important and positive, the best thing you could have done.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“There aren’t any guarantees, Jan, but after I told her how careful you were getting away, she said if we observe security precautions here, if you’re careful to vary your routine, get your mail somewhere else, use a different name, then we’ll most likely be safe. If he does show up, then we go to the police. They take stalking seriously, and under some circumstances it’s a felony. Harmony witnessed your husband’s abuse. The police won’t be able to blow this off.”

“I didn’t think...” Jan’s voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Everyone seems to think it’s okay to stay here, even the people who brought me this far.”

“That’s who you were talking to.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“She wished me well, and she told me to call her directly if I need help.”

Taylor motioned to a stool in front of the counter. “Come have your wine and something to munch on.”

Jan did as she was told, something she was particularly good at. She ate a cracker with a slice of cheese and waited for her stomach to reject it. But instead the food made her hungrier. She took a second, then a sip of the wine.

“I only poured you a little,” Taylor said. “On an empty stomach it’s twice as powerful. But let me know if you’d like more.”

“Less is better, I think.”

“If I were you right now, I would need to relax, and maybe a little wine will help.”

“It’s hard. For months I’ve been gearing up to go one place, and now I’m in another. I never intended to come to Asheville at all. It seemed too dangerous. But after the fire? I just knew Harmony would find out somehow, and she would be sure I was dead. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I’m so glad you came.”

Jan still wasn’t sure. All this well-meant reassurance didn’t take into account the will or the whims of the man she had been married to.

“Did you have a place to go?” Taylor asked. “I mean a house, a job, a life somewhere else?”

“We were working on it. Then Rex didn’t come home from work, and I knew I had to leave right away while I had that chance.”

“But you were able to get things in place quickly.”

Jan wanted to tell Taylor more, but sharing her life, even a little piece of it, was a luxury she hadn’t experienced in years.

“Not quickly,” she said. “Last New Year’s I met a woman at a party. I didn’t go to many parties, but this one was, well, it was required for my husband’s job, so I had to go along and look happy.”

“I’m guessing over the years you’ve learned to be a good actress.” Taylor set a salad on the counter and turned to do something at the stove.

“I like to cook,” Jan said, while she decided how to respond to that. “I could cook for you while I’m here, take some of that off your shoulders, anyway.”

“Great. We’ll work that out.”

Jan took another sip to steady herself. “At that party? There was a woman who knew my husband. I’d met her a couple of times over the years. She got me off to one side when he was talking business with some men. And she said she worried about the way he treated me. She told me to call her if I needed help, that she was part of a group of women who helped other women who had trouble at home.”

“How did she know that just from seeing you at a party?”

“Later she told me her first husband nearly killed her before she got out of the marriage. She recognized a fellow sufferer from the fear in my eyes. And she knew Rex well enough to suspect he could be mean.”

Taylor whistled softly. “It was that obvious?”

“I had bruises on my wrist. She paid attention. And she said I needed to get out while I still could.”

“You said she was part of a group of women who do this?”

“More like a network all over the country.” Jan hesitated, but there was no reason to do so. Taylor wasn’t going to turn anybody in. “Lady truckers. They call themselves Moving On. My husband sells insurance for trucks, and that’s why we were all at that party together.”

“That’s rich. Who better?”

“I called her two weeks later. One morning she waited until Rex left for the office. Then she came into our place the back way. We talked for an hour. She told me what they did and how successful they were. It’s been going on for years. Sometimes women go back to the men who beat them, because they can’t adjust, but nobody who stayed away has ever been found. I’ve wanted to get away for years, but...” It was too difficult to explain. She shrugged. “Anyway, I wanted to leave sooner, but Rex was watching me.”

“I’m not a counselor, just a friend, and a new one. I think it’s going to be difficult to put all that behind you. It’s going to take years. But you said something earlier that I want to put out on the table. You said you weren’t going to bore me with stories of your past?”

Jan realized she had done just that again. She didn’t know what to say, but Taylor went on.

“If we’re going to be friends, and I want to be, we’re going to have to bore each other with stories of the past. Because that’s what friends do. Only neither of us will be bored, Jan, because friends are interested in each other. I know you’ve been through hell, and whenever it’s helpful to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen. I probably won’t have any answers, but that’s okay, too.”

“Do you have stories you’ll share?”

“I could spend hours just telling you about my mom and me, and all the years I kept her away. And about getting pregnant at seventeen and holding a grudge against Maddie’s father most of her life. I’m light-years from perfect, so with that out on the table, we can just find our way together, okay?”

Jan felt tears glaze her eyes, but she smiled. “Friends,” she said.

“Good. Now let’s talk about something that’s also important.” Taylor smiled, too. “What we’re going to put on our pasta tonight.”

Chapter 8

Harmony’s mother had been living at Taylor’s house for three days. Harmony still couldn’t quite believe it. Using Rilla’s cell phone, she had spoken to her mother twice. In the unlikely event the Reynolds’ landline was being monitored, they had all agreed that Harmony would use Rilla’s cell and Jan would use Taylor’s for extra security.

Jan.

She still couldn’t get used to her mother’s new name. Janine Stoddard was Jan Seaton now, and while the Jan made sense and might even be risky, Seaton had been picked out of thin air. Moving On had found it was easier for women to remember their new names if their initials stayed the same. That might be risky, too, but not as risky as a woman forgetting what she called herself these days.

The name change wasn’t official, of course. Jan had no ID that said Seaton, but she also had no intention of needing ID.

Harmony had tried to fill her days with work and Lottie, but her mind was focused on the extraordinary turn of events that had brought her mother to Asheville. The Topeka paper had moved on to other stories, so news was difficult to come by, but she knew from the last conversation she’d had with her mother that her father still hadn’t been sighted. His disappearance was perplexing, even worrisome, since no one could monitor his movements. Was he searching for both of them, following the trail Moving On had so carefully laid to the West? Was he following the real trail to North Carolina, so that one day soon he could show up on Harmony’s doorstep?

Neither seemed particularly likely, and that was the worst of it. After years away from home, trying to think like her father brought back a childhood in which she’d tried to anticipate his every move and mood. She had hoped those days were gone forever. She never wanted to give him that much thought again.

Right now, though, she was thinking about the evening to come. “Lottie Lou, you’re going off with your daddy again,” she said, bending over the car seat where her sleepy daughter was fidgeting.

Lottie flailed her fists and screwed up her face in protest. Harmony wondered if Davis would give her back the moment Lottie started to fuss. The baby was normally good-natured, but her afternoon nap hadn’t gone on nearly long enough.

Harmony was still surprised Davis had asked to take Lottie for the evening. She had assumed his mother was back in town, but when she asked he’d said no. Maybe he had been vague, but Harmony had been pleased at the opportunity to have a babysitter.

Because she had a date.

With everything else going on, she had forgotten all about it until that morning—too late to back out politely—when Taylor called to remind her. She was having dinner with a friend of Taylor’s, and she hadn’t been to Cuppa—where she used to be a server—for months, but it was a comfortable, casual kind of place to meet a guy, so she’d agreed. The plans had been made, of course, before her mother arrived.

Since she believed in signs—at least when they were good ones—the fact that Davis had called right afterward to say he wanted to take Lottie for the evening had convinced her she had to go.

The doorbell rang, and she wondered if Davis would remember it took time to lug the baby downstairs. She was almost at the door when he tapped and opened it. “I thought you might like some help getting her down.”

This wasn’t a sign; it was a miracle. She swung the car seat in his direction and he took it. “I’ll bring the diaper bag,” she said, gathering it from the sofa, along with her purse. “I’m going out, but I’ll have my cell phone with me.”

“I’ll call before I bring her back.” He bent over the car seat and smiled at his daughter, who still didn’t look happy. “Are you ready, Peaches?”

“Peaches?”

“She has cheeks like little peaches. You never noticed?”

She was thunderstruck. Was this the same Davis whose main thought when he found he was going to be a father was whether a baby might help him secure a promotion at work?

“I might as well tell you I have a woman with me,” he continued. “Her name’s Amy, and she wants to meet Lottie.”

That sounded more like the old Davis, and Harmony sniffed. At least he’d told this Amy person he had a daughter.

She followed him down the stairs to his car, and as Davis struggled with the baby’s car seat, the woman on the passenger’s side opened the door and swung her legs around to sit sideways. Shining red hair was arranged over one shoulder, and her makeup was so carefully applied that Harmony figured it had taken as long to do it as she had spent on her own in all the months since Lottie’s birth.

“You must be Amy. I’m Harmony,” she said when Amy didn’t speak.

Amy nodded. “Does she cry a lot?”

“Just when she’s unhappy.”

As if on cue, Lottie began to whimper. Amy’s lovely face tightened into something approaching a grimace.

Harmony really didn’t want to help, but she knew it was the right thing to do. “She didn’t have a very long nap this afternoon, so she’s tired. She’ll probably fall asleep quickly. She’ll be in a better mood by the time she gets out of the car.”

“Maybe you should have given her a longer nap.”

“Short of drugging her or hitting her over the head, I’m not sure what I could have done.”

“I believe in schedules.”

“Most people who don’t have children do.” Harmony stepped back and addressed Lottie’s father. “Davis, make sure you call if you need advice. Me, not your mother.”

He grunted something profane about seat belts and infant car seats, and she left him to figure out the mysteries of parenthood by himself.

Upstairs she took a moment to peer at her face in the mirror. Freckled, with sandy lashes. Wide mouth, slightly crooked teeth that should have worn braces—which her father had frowned upon as vanity—long, pale brown hair that was only streaked with blond because she was out in the sun so often, not because she had the time to do anything about her hair except let it grow.

She was going to be late if she did anything much to improve what she saw. She scraped a little mascara on her lashes and brushed some mineral powder over her freckles; then she grabbed her purse, which felt as light as air after hauling a diaper bag, and peeked through her window to make sure Davis was gone. Since the coast was clear, she headed downstairs and away.

Fifteen minutes later she was walking into Cuppa after scoring an amazing parking place right in front, another sign. On the drive she had tried to remember what Taylor had told her about Nate Winchester. They had been friends in high school, and then he had gone off to college, followed by the army. He had only recently returned to run the family custom cabinetry business, which did a lot of work for Ethan, Taylor’s architect father. Taylor said Nate was one of the good guys, a sweetheart. They had been friends so long they would never see each other as anything else, but she’d thought maybe he and Harmony might strike a spark or two. Taylor thought they had a lot in common.

Harmony and Nate had shared one rushed phone call. They’d nailed down the time, but now she couldn’t remember how she was supposed to recognize him. In a minute she realized it didn’t matter, because all her old friends on staff came over to greet her and find out how she was doing. When the crowd cleared away, Nate was the only one left.

“Hi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Nate.”

She smiled because his smile was infectious, and she took his hand for a firm shake. “You’ve guessed who I am.”

“Taylor told me to look for a tall blonde with lots of friends.”

Harmony hadn’t been on a date since she and Davis were a couple. She tried to remember how she was supposed to examine a guy without looking as if she had a checklist. Her initial impression was that once she had a list in hand, she would need a good pen, because this time she would be making lots of check marks.

Nate was taller than she was, lean and muscular, with friendly brown eyes and auburn hair cut short, but not too short. His clothes were casual, but not sloppy. His trousers looked freshly pressed, which almost made her smile, since she wasn’t sure she owned an iron.

“I have a table,” he said. “I bet the service is going to be great. They’ll be fighting over you.”

She followed him to a corner. Cuppa had been little more than a coffee shop when she began working there, but later it had morphed into a bistro. Now it sported topiaries on the sidewalk and hanging ferns in the windows, along with an expanded menu, although the coffee bar jutting along one side was definitely casual. Tonight the room was crowded, but Nate had a good eye, and he had chosen the one corner table where they might have a little privacy.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Nate waited for Harmony to choose a seat; then he pulled out her chair.

She thought this was, quite possibly, a first. When had anyone seated her, except possibly the waiter at the country club dinner she had once attended with Davis? She put a mark next to “polite” on her mental checklist and smiled her thanks.

She thought it was wise to immediately bring up the subject of Lottie. If Nate wasn’t interested in a single parent, he ought to know right now that she was one. She made sure she sounded matter-of-fact.

“The closest I’ve gotten to eating since breakfast was finishing the Cheerios on my daughter’s high-chair tray.”

“Is she old enough to feed herself?” he asked without missing a beat.

“She thinks she is. I shovel in whatever I’ve prepared between her finger food.”

“I’m the oldest of six. I was the only kid who went to Covenant Academy with rice cereal and mashed bananas on his shirt.”

“Your job was feeding the babies?”

“Until I got my driver’s license. Then I was in charge of pickup and delivery. My sister still talks about the time I took her to ballet class with a crate of chickens and a goat in the back of our minivan. My mother was trading livestock with another farmer across town.”

“You come from a farm family?”

“We have two acres, and Mom used every inch while we were growing up, but now a lot of the garden area is devoted to wildflowers. She got rid of the goats last month. I think the bees will go next.”

“Six kids?” She tried to imagine it.

“Devoted Catholics, although they sent us to Covenant Academy instead of Catholic schools because they liked the curriculum better.”

“I think I’m more a Buddhist than anything, although I don’t really go to church,” she said, waiting for him to scrunch up his face and remember a prior commitment.

“I’m just trying to live a good life,” Nate said with a grin. “I leave all the theology to people who are more worried than I am.”

He hadn’t flinched over her single-parent status. He hadn’t flinched over her religion or lack of one. “The veggie pizza here is a standout,” she said. “Did Taylor mention I’m a vegetarian?”

“I don’t remember. I’m one of those guys who’ll eat anything. Buffalo burgers? Brussels sprouts?” He shrugged, as if to say he didn’t care which.

She put down the menu, which hadn’t changed since her days on staff. “It’s possible you’re too good to be true.”

“I hitchhiked to San Francisco when I was sixteen to attend a Star Trek convention. I have an autographed poster of Captain Jean Luc Piccard in a safe-deposit box.”

“That’s the worst you’ve got?”

“Geekier than that? I played tuba in the academy band, mostly because I was the only one who could lift it out of the case. I went into the army because they promised me the Mideast. Then they sent me to Honolulu. I spent the whole time upgrading cabinets in officers’ housing at Schofield Barracks.” He grinned, an infectious, friendly grin. “Bad enough for you?”

She smiled, too. How could she not like Nate Winchester? Still, she had to counter.

She leaned forward. “I’m the product of a family who gives the word dysfunctional new meaning. I got pregnant despite using birth control and refused to marry the father when I realized he wanted to use our baby to impress the partners in his accounting firm. Now I work on a farm. Digging in the dirt and cleaning out the barn makes me happy in a way nothing else ever did. I want to be a lawyer, but I haven’t even started college and won’t until Lottie’s a little older.”

“Just so I know?”

She nodded. “Just so you know.”

“How about a glass of wine? And I’m good with the veggie pizza if you want to split one.”

“White wine for me, and you won’t have much choice on the brand—they’re probably still working on their wine cellar. Oh, and I don’t like Brussels sprouts.”

“Duly noted.”

She didn’t like Brussels sprouts, but she did like Nate. How could she not? As he gave their order, though, she was also aware that while she liked him just fine, sitting here with him was like sitting with a new girlfriend she’d met at the gym or the produce section of Fresh Market. He was good-looking, funny, intelligent and kind.

And she didn’t feel even one faint spark igniting between them.

Chapter 9

From the audio journal of a forty-five-year-old woman, taped for the files of Moving On, an underground highway for abused women.

The first time the Abuser slapped me I was stunned. Three weeks after we were married in a simple ceremony, he came home to find that I had rearranged the kitchen of our new house to better suit my needs. Since I did all the cooking, I never considered that when he unpacked our new utensils and dishes he had meant for them to stay in the cabinets he had chosen. Foolishly I had even expected him to be pleased I was settling in and making our house a home.

He was sorry afterward, of course, tired from a long day at work in a job he despised because he hated taking orders from people who weren’t as smart as he was. Sorry enough that as he moved the kitchen contents back where he had first put them, he said he would have to remember to be more patient, that he knew I was learning to be a wife. But since he lived in the house, too, I should remember that all our decisions were to be made together.

Of course, as time passed I realized that there was no “together.” The Abuser decided everything, and when he did consult me, often his intention was to find out what I wanted so he could do the opposite.

Not always, though. Sometimes he surprised me with things he knew I yearned for—frequently enough, in fact, that I continued to believe he loved me and there was hope for our marriage. Sometimes, too, if I asked sweetly enough he would let me have my way, as long as I understood it was a privilege he had granted because he was a model husband.

Some things, of course, were permanently off-limits. He claimed we couldn’t afford a second car so I could do errands on my own, and on the rare occasions I had the family car to myself, I was suspicious that he checked the mileage to be sure I hadn’t gone places I hadn’t told him about. He preferred that my old friends not visit when he wasn’t at home. Wasn’t daytime set aside to clean and cook? He had his job; I had mine.

Of course, evenings and weekends were our time together and not to be shared.

The second time he hit me I had just returned from a spontaneous shopping trip with a college friend. When he demanded to know why I had ignored his wishes, I reassured him, pointing out that the night’s pot roast was simmering in the slow cooker and freshly ironed shirts were hanging in his closet.

So much time has passed I wonder now if I realized that afternoon that the trap was closing. That apologies were meant to keep me in line just as much as striking me was. That I could still find a way to be free of him with a little cunning and the help of the friends who hadn’t yet forgotten me.

I really don’t know. I do know I was determined to make our marriage a success. And wasn’t the violence rare and the Abuser sorry? Didn’t that make all the difference?

* * *

Jan had known she would have to shop for clothes since she was washing the few things she’d brought every other day. When she was making plans to escape and gathering necessities, she had even told herself shopping once she “moved on” would be fun. She could choose colors Rex had discouraged and styles that might actually look good instead of her usual drab, loose clothing that guaranteed she would fade into the background.

Of course, fading into the background might be a good thing until she knew for sure where her husband had gone. But in an odd sort of way, brightening her wardrobe might actually help her hide, since if anyone besides Rex was searching for her, they would be looking for a frumpy woman with no fashion sense and no courage.

Which, she was afraid, was sadly accurate.

“I can drop you off in town, but we’ll need to leave shortly,” Taylor said, glancing at the kitchen clock as she put away their lunch things. “My dad’s going to meet me over at the studio to see how the upstairs renovations are going. But he has another appointment at four, so I can pick you up just a little after. Will you be okay in town that long?”

Jan couldn’t imagine that much free time. And in a strange town? Where nothing was familiar, and she had no idea where to go?

Taylor seemed to sense her discomfort. “We can wait and go to the mall next time I have a few hours off. I’m just afraid if I try to drop you off there today, I’ll be late.”

“Oh, absolutely not. I’ll enjoy prowling around Asheville.” Jan put on her brightest smile. “And if I get lost, you can guide me in once you come back to pick me up.”

“The city’s small enough I think you’ll be fine.”

“Although what about Maddie?” Jan hoped she didn’t sound as if she was grasping at straws. “Shouldn’t I stay home so she’s not alone when she gets back from school?”

“She’s going over to her friend Edna’s house. You’ll meet Edna before too long. Her mom, Samantha, is one of the goddesses.”

Jan had heard all about the goddesses, an idea that hadn’t seemed too far-fetched, since her own goddesses, the truckers of Moving On, only did what they did because they wanted to help and for no other reason.

“Just let me grab my wallet,” Jan said.

Ten minutes later Taylor pulled into a space beside the curb of a hilly downtown filled—at least from what Jan could see—with restaurants and small shops with colorful, quirky merchandise displayed in their windows.

Taylor must have seen the look on her face, because she laughed. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

Jan’s gaze wandered across the street, and her eyebrows shot up. “Well, if I can’t find anything to wear, I can get a tattoo.”

“Just wander a little.” Taylor pointed. “Go up that way and you’ll run into a few stores with clothes you might like. And if you don’t, we’ll hit the mall later this week.”

For Jan this meant she had to find new things to wear today, because Taylor was already doing too much for her and didn’t need to hold her hand.

“I’ll meet you back here about four-fifteen,” Taylor said. “If you get tired, there are plenty of places to have coffee, and there’s a park just up that way with benches.” She hesitated. “I hate to ask this, but if you need cash—”

“No, no, I’m really fine. I have enough money to see me through until I can find work. It’s a long story. But I intend to pay rent, too, until I find a place.”

“Don’t you dare. Pay rent or find a place. I need you, and I’m not kidding. Maddie’s so much happier now that I’m not dragging her all over the place.”

Jan knew she had to get out of the car, but her arms and legs felt as inflexible as steel girders. She forced herself to open the door, swing her legs to the curb and stand.

“See you back here,” she said, forcing a smile that Taylor returned.

When Jan closed the door, Taylor pulled out into traffic.

And Jan was alone.

She would have been alone in New Hampshire, of course. More alone than this. Here she had Harmony just a phone call away, although she certainly couldn’t call or visit her daughter without advance preparation. Still, just knowing she was nearby helped, and Taylor had told her if anything came up, all she had to do was call her cell phone.

Getting a new phone was on her list of things to do, a phone registered to the stranger Jan Seaton, but she would have to check into what questions might be asked and how she could answer them. The very basic disposable that Moving On had provided had limited minutes remaining, and she needed to save them in case she had to contact her benefactors.

The sidewalks seemed to undulate like ocean waves. It was unlikely there was any place in the Asheville area where she wouldn’t be walking either up or downhill, and for a while her legs were going to feel it. The terrain, like everything else here, would seem strange for some time to come.

She assessed her surroundings. To her right was a shop that sold chocolates. Across the street, beside the tattoo studio, was a café that looked to be closed, either already done for the day or not yet open for the evening. She trudged in the direction Taylor had suggested, to what looked like as major a street as she would find here. Some of the buildings were painted bright colors, and while she didn’t stop to investigate, the shops seemed filled with things she didn’t need. Jewelry, crafts, photographs and exotic statues.

By the time she got to the corner, she could feel unease turning into panic. The feeling was familiar, even if nothing else was. She had felt just this way on the evenings Rex was late coming home, not because she’d worried about his safety, but because trying to keep dinner warm had been nearly impossible. After an hour had passed, she had then been faced with trying to make something new, something quick that would still be fresh when he arrived. Nothing had made him angrier than walking through the door to find his dinner was dried out or just being prepared.

She told herself the kind of panic she had felt back then was finished. She told herself there was no reason to transfer those feelings to a simple shopping excursion. Unfortunately nobody knew better than she that telling herself something helped very little. Because for too many years at the beginning of her marriage she had told herself if she just learned to be a better wife, she would have a happy life.

She needed to sit down. Taylor had said something about a park. She saw a green space to her right and started in that direction.

The little triangular wedge was picturesque, with rocks that mimicked the surrounding mountains and a waterfall running over them. Cantilevered steps, or possibly seats, led to a flat area near the center. People were playing chess at one end, and not far from her a disheveled old man on one of the benches strummed a banjo. In between bursts of discordant music he fed a pointy-eared boxer bites of a sub sandwich.

Had she been snatched by aliens and deposited on Mars, she couldn’t have felt more like a stranger in a strange land.

She headed for a bench without an occupant and gratefully sat before her knees gave way. She closed her eyes. She knew fear. She understood fear. What she didn’t understand was why, now that the person she feared most was hundreds of miles away, she was still trembling.

“Got room here?”

The voice startled her, and her eyes flew open. A young man with dark hair covered by a colorful baseball cap didn’t wait for her reply. He sat on the other end of the bench and stuck his legs out in front of him.

“This is my favorite bench because of the sun,” he said.

She hadn’t chosen the bench for any reason except proximity, but now Jan noticed that she was sitting in a puddle of sunshine.

She wanted to move away. Her stomach was rebelling, and talking to a stranger seemed impossible. She had enough problems thinking of things to say to Taylor and Maddie. So many years had passed when simple conversation had been denied her that sometimes in Topeka, in the hours when she was home alone, she had pretended to be two people.

Nice to meet you, Janine. Tell me about yourself.

Well, thanks for asking. There’s not much to tell except that I hate my life and I can’t figure out how to have a better one and live to tell the story.

“Do you come here often?” the young man asked.

She ventured another glance. He was still sitting exactly where he’d flopped down, his face turned toward the sun and his eyes hidden by sunglasses. He had a strong profile with a nose like a hawk’s beak. Even seated he seemed tall and muscular.

“No,” she said.

“Been to the drum circle?”

“No.”

“You ought to give it a try. Crowd-watching’s a big part of the fun. Lots of different kinds of people come. Tourists... Are you just visiting?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a good place to live if you’re looking for one.”

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. “Why is it a good place to live?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not too many places where so many different kinds of people get along. Nobody stands out much here. You can be whoever you want to be, and nobody thinks you’re strange. At least most people don’t think so.”

“How do you figure out who you want to be?” she asked before she thought better of it.

He looked surprised. “Isn’t that the easy part?”

“No.”

“I guess you figure out who you admire, and you try to be like that.”

She admired people with courage, people who’d had dreams they’d pursued despite obstacles. People who had been able to protect their children.

She blinked back tears. “And if you fail?”

“Aren’t you too young to write off life that way?”

She wondered.

He stretched and stood, long arms reaching out as if to embrace the world. “I say go for whatever it is you haven’t done yet. You’ve got time right up until you draw your last breath.” He gave a quick, final wave, almost a salute, and strolled off.

She asked herself what she hadn’t done yet, and the answer was so overwhelming she could hardly breathe. If she took his advice, where would she start?

She gazed around the park, searching for a clue. Minutes passed and finally her heart rate began to slow. Then she saw the answer was simple.

“Blue jeans.”

It didn’t matter if she was frightened by everyday things that others took for granted. It didn’t matter if she felt alone in the world, something Rex had repeatedly warned her would happen if she ever tried to leave him. It didn’t matter that she no longer knew what a woman like her could actually achieve. Perhaps it didn’t even matter that she had failed at the things she had most hoped to accomplish and was still seeking forgiveness.

What mattered now were jeans. From what she could tell, she was the only person in Asheville who didn’t own a pair. If she didn’t want to stand out in the crowd, now was the time to remedy that.

She got to her feet, and her knees still trembled, but life was going to be like this. A pair of blue jeans. An afternoon alone in a strange—in more ways than one—city. Participating in a short conversation with someone she’d never met and wasn’t likely to see again.

Life. One step at a time with nobody blocking the way.

And if, for one moment after Taylor had dropped her off, she had yearned for Rex—who had all the answers as well as all the questions—then she supposed she could seek forgiveness for that, as well.

But first, one small thing. A pair of jeans.

This she could do.

Chapter 10

From the audio journal of a forty-five-year-old woman, taped for the files of Moving On, an underground highway for abused women.

Some people believe violence comes directly from the traditional family, when one person is awarded all the power as well as the right, even obligation, to enforce his values or lack of them. Others believe domestic violence is caused by the disintegration of the traditional family. Neither view is true. Domestic violence is the result of one family member with sickness in his soul, and the desire to infect those who are weakest and most vulnerable. Sometimes fatally.

And yes, I’ve used the word he. The vast majority of batterers are men. Mine certainly was.

And yes, I’ve also used the word was. Now that I’ve left the Abuser, I have no doubt that if given the opportunity he’ll cause more and greater pain, perhaps ending our struggle once and for all, as happens too frequently. I’ve been warned that 70 percent of all women who die from domestic abuse die after they leave their abusers, as I left mine.

For now I’m free of him. I have dreams in which he finds me and exacts his final vengeance, but I believe that someday I may have just as many dreams in which I find him first.

* * *

Adam Pryor hadn’t known he could fly. He had spent most of his life on the ground, never realizing that if he flapped his wings he could soar with the eagles and vultures. Today he felt kinship with both, the eagles with their hooked beaks and lethal talons that tore the flesh from their prey, and the vultures, who fed on carrion, destroying evidence so the world could pretend death wasn’t an ugly business. Right now, though, he only wanted to get away, to rise above the clouds, up, up, just high enough that he didn’t lose consciousness and plunge back to earth.

He was especially careful about that. He never wanted to touch the ground again, particularly not the ground just below him. If he could gaze through the clouds, he knew exactly what he would see. A rural bazaar, a brief spot of color against a desolate landscape, with crude wooden sheds lining an unadorned village roadway. Sides of meat hanging from hooks. Yellow plastic jugs with labels in Arabic script. Shelves of cans, some which would have been perfectly at home in an army commissary and probably had been before they mysteriously disappeared.

Children. Boys in their long shirts over baggy white pants, colorful wool pakol covering heads. Girls in an array of colors, pants, overdresses, scarves over dark hair, walking or skipping beside their mothers.

He knew better than to watch the children’s progress. He had wings; he could fly away and should. Yet, somehow, he was powerless to do so.

Suddenly, despite struggling to lift himself higher, he realized he was floating downward. He wasn’t above the clouds at all. Now he saw that the clouds were really plumes of smoke. It tickled his lungs, then filled them until he began to cough. His eyes burned as he drifted. Then he picked up speed until he was falling like a meteor streaking toward the earth.

Through the veil of smoke he saw flames below, and then, as the air rushed past him, he could hear screams.

The wailing began.

“No...”

Adam tried to sit up but was only partially successful. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. The answer that left him momentarily paralyzed was this: he was inside a coffin or a crypt.

“No!” He struggled to lift his arms so he could feel something, anything, around him, but his arms were pinned to his sides. A scream gathered inside him, even as he saw light seeping through an unfamiliar doorway, and heard clinking and shuffling just beyond it.

Just in time, he remembered.

The ice machine near the elevator. A cheap motel on the highway. The only room still vacant when he had arrived after midnight two nights ago. The clerk had given him a discount—but not much—because of a bathroom sink that dripped without remorse and a shower nobody seemed able to fix.

He clamped his lips shut and forced himself to lie flat again until he could untangle the top sheet that bound him. Once he was free, he sat up and rested his head in his hands. In the hallway, whoever had needed ice at 2:00 a.m. rattled a bucket one more time, then slammed the lid on the machine. In a moment Adam could hear footsteps die away, then silence, except for a hum as the machine set out to replenish its supply.

Even the dripping no longer kept him company. He had fixed both the sink and the shower on his first morning, although he hadn’t told the guy at the front desk, who probably would have raised the price of the room.

Now that he was awake he wasn’t surprised that the dream had visited again. In the past year he had fought to get away from the same familiar scene a hundred times or more, although he hadn’t had the full-blown nightmare, this Technicolor, stereo version, for weeks. He had known he wouldn’t be lucky enough to evade it forever, but in the secret recesses of his psyche, that was what he had prayed for.

The one good thing about repetition? From past experience he knew that now he wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours. He could toss and turn and pretend all he wanted to, but deep inside lurked a realistic fear that the dream would return. He could try to sleep, but that stronger part of him would win.

He moved to the edge of the bed and turned on the nightstand lamp. These days he was never without a book. The motels he frequented didn’t always have working televisions, and it was too late to prowl...he tried to remember the name of the city...Asheville. North Carolina.

That was right. That’s where he was.

He rose and rummaged through an overnight duffel to find the paperback he had picked up at the grocery store. From experience he’d learned what he could safely read. Cookbooks. Certain biographies. Philosophy. He’d tried a romance novel one night, but that had kept him awake for different reasons.

He opened his selection and began to read about Abraham Lincoln. Like everybody else who’d been to elementary school, he already knew how the story ended, so he would encounter no unwelcome surprises.

His own story was much more a mystery.

* * *

Jan hadn’t slept well in weeks. Her final nights in Kansas had been filled with dread. She had known she would be leaving in the coming weeks, so in the middle of the night she had gone over plans, looking for a flaw or even a reason to forget them.

The devil you know...

Rex always slept soundly, so night was a time when she didn’t have to worry he might turn on her. Small infractions or imagined slights dissolved into dreams. She could lie next to him and let her mind roam. And roam it had—to all the worst outcomes.

What would happen if he found her as she tried to leave? What would happen if he tracked her to New Hampshire and tried to force her to return? What would happen if she refused? Would he make sure she simply disappeared? Even if her body was found, who would suspect that a church deacon and respected business owner had succumbed to his dark side and traveled that far to kill his wife?

After the escape she hadn’t slept well, either, because she still expected to pay a price down the road. All the years she had spent with him had made such deep wounds she would never be completely free of them.

For a change, tonight she had fallen asleep quickly, a deep, dreamless sleep that her exhausted body had insisted on. The shopping trip had been the final straw. Between the panic attack and the struggle to decide which jeans to buy, she had been so tired she had barely stayed awake during dinner.

Now, though, she was awake. Wide-awake and terrified.

The house was dark. No light showed under her door. By now Jan knew Taylor’s ritual. The younger woman usually went to bed about eleven, and she turned off the lights, everything except a night-light in the kitchen and another in the hallway bathroom. There were few street lamps in the neighborhood, and the one closest to Taylor’s house was shielded by a maple that hadn’t yet dropped its leaves. Only glimmers of light seeped in through the windows.

Clearly Taylor was asleep. If she was up, she would have turned on a light to make her way through the house. But someone else was creeping slowly down the hallway, or at least making his way through the kitchen. Jan heard someone bumping into furniture, not normal footsteps made by somebody comfortable with the layout, but intermittent thumps, a chair knocked into a table, perhaps, a small collision with a counter stool.

She forced herself to sit up and focus. The noise had been loud enough to wake her, but her head was still fogged from sleep. She could think of no other explanation for the noise. A stranger had to be in the house, and she was terrified she knew who it was. Rex had traced her to Taylor’s. No matter how careful they had been, he’d traced her. He was methodically searching for her room.

And when he found her...

Maddie wasn’t home, and she had Vanilla with her. Taylor was home, though, and if Rex found her room first...

She had to get up. She had forgotten to charge the Moving On cell, and there was no regular telephone in her room to call 911, although there was one in the hall. Taylor had decided that Maddie didn’t need a phone in her room, but the girl could take the one in the hallway if she asked for permission. If Jan could just get to it, punch in those three numbers...

Her body was stiff with dread, but she couldn’t lie still and wait for the worst to happen. She swung her legs to the floor and forced herself to stand. She listened. For now, the house was silent, but she wasn’t reassured. The intruder was probably getting his bearings after the last misstep.

She crept soundlessly to her door. The moment she opened it she might be spotted, depending on where the intruder was standing in the kitchen. Her best bet would be to crack the door just wide enough to slip out, then press her body against the wall. She might be harder to spot that way. It might buy her time to make the call.

The house remained quiet. For a moment she reconsidered. Had she dreamed the noise? If she got to the telephone and made the call successfully, would the police arrive to find Taylor embarrassed and she herself ashamed she’d made a fuss for nothing?

Then another subdued crash echoed from the kitchen, and she knew this was not her imagination. The knob felt slick under her perspiring hand, but she turned it somehow and pushed the door just wide enough to slide carefully through the crack. The night-light in the bathroom warmed the polished cherry floors but didn’t really light the hall. Jan thought if she could quickly slide past that thin puddle of light she wouldn’t even cast a shadow.

Another crash, and she knew she couldn’t wait for even one more breath. Blindly she slid along the wall, judging the distance to the telephone, judging it incorrectly, as it turned out. She nudged the table with her hip well before she thought she would get there. The phone fell out of the cradle to the table, then to the floor.

She might as well have set off a bomb.

With a soft cry Jan fell to her knees and searched for the phone in the darkness. But it wasn’t dark for long.

“Jan? Is that you?”

Jan jumped up. “Get in your room and lock your door!”

Taylor, whose room was on the other side of the kitchen, came out instead and turned on the kitchen light, nearly blinding Jan. Taylor sounded sleepy. “What’s going on?”

Jan searched wildly for the intruder. Taylor walked right past the spot where Jan had imagined him, her sleepy face screwed up in question.

“Are you okay?”

“There’s somebody in the house!”

Taylor looked around, then walked to the wall and flipped a switch, and the hallway, too, was suddenly bright with light.

“Were you dreaming?” she asked.

“No!” Jan took her arm. “I heard—”

Another crash from the kitchen. She stepped forward to shield Taylor, but nobody was there.

“Is that what you heard?” Taylor put her hand gently over Jan’s and left it there. “Listen, that’s our ice maker. It scared me at first, too, until I figured out what it was. Sometimes it’s perfectly quiet, and sometimes like tonight the darned thing sounds like Godzilla trampling Manhattan, but honestly, it’s harmless. I even had the repair guy out to look at it, but he said it’s this particular model and they’re all like that. There’s nothing we can do about it except replace it with something more expensive.”

“Ice maker?”

“It’s awful, I know. I’m sorry. I would have warned you, but I just didn’t think about it. Maybe I ought to disconnect it.” Taylor paused. “What were you going to do out here?”

“Call 911.”

“Glad you didn’t, although it would have made their night, I’m sure.”

Jan felt tears filling her eyes, then, despite her best efforts, slipping down her cheeks.

“Hey.” Taylor put her arm around her. “I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified. Did you think your ex had found you?”

Jan had never thought of Rex that way. Her ex. Not officially, of course. How did you divorce a man without revealing your whereabouts? But in every other way...?

She nodded, as much to her own question as to Taylor’s. “I was afraid.” She sniffed. “He might hurt you.”

“If you believed that, you were beyond brave to come out into the hall and try to make the call.”

“Please, I’m sorry I woke you. But can we check around a little, just to be sure?”

“We’ll check. Then I’m making us some herbal tea.” When Jan began to protest, Taylor stopped her. “We both need it. Humor me, okay? Grab the phone and get ready to dial if we need to.”

Ten minutes later Jan was sitting on the sofa beside Taylor sipping a steaming cup of chamomile and mint tea. She wasn’t sure what made her feel worse. Believing that an ice maker was an intruder? Waking Taylor from a sound sleep? The knowledge that for the rest of her life every unexpected noise would make her tremble this way?

“My parents were complete opposites,” Taylor said. “My father’s unbelievably tactful and understanding. My mother was blunt to a fault. If she thought something needed to be said, she said it.”

Jan wondered where she herself fit on that spectrum. Her job as a parent had been to soften everything her husband did or said. But if she hadn’t married Rex, who would she be?

“I’m more like Mom,” Taylor continued. “I’ve tried to be more like my dad, but so far I haven’t been too successful. Tonight, though, I’m going to be Mom. You’ve been through so much, Jan. More than most people could handle. I know it’s marked you. You don’t have to tell me. How could it not? I just wonder if you need to talk to somebody who could help you make this transition. Somebody who could listen and guide you through the worst.”

“A shrink?” Jan managed a laugh. “He would think I was so crazy for staying with Rex all those years, he would probably lock me away.”

“Domestic abuse is never simple. He or she would know that, and it’s not a shrink’s job to judge you, anyway. But actually I was thinking of a friend of Harmony’s and mine, one of the goddesses. Her name is Analiese, and she’s a minister.”

“I went to my own minister once, and I told him what was going on at home. I thought he would help me work out what to do. He told me it was my job to stay with Rex and make him happy, that like Daniel, a good wife would find a way to tame the lion in her den, so I just needed to be a good wife.”

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