BooksBarbecue
Back A Flicker of Light
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Katie Powner
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

He turned onto an unpaved road. The low-profile tires on their Toyota Matrix hit a pothole, and their heads jerked forward.

Steve yowled.

Jeremy grunted. “Yikes. Should we notify the city about that?”

Bea laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. People didn’t know the meaning of the word pothole until they’d lived in Moose Creek. “You know my dad works for the city, right?”

“Oh. Right.”

She pointed. “That’s it there on the left. The gray house.”

When Jeremy steered the car over to park in front, she laughed again. “No, you have to flip around and park the right way.”

“It’s a one-lane dirt road, Bea. Who cares which way we park?”

“Officer Darryl.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It was often the littlest things that were the biggest deal in a small town, but she let it go. Her eyes focused on the old gray house. Grandpa Rand’s truck was parked in the alley. She hoped they hadn’t been waiting long. When she’d told Dad they planned to arrive around five, he insisted he’d have dinner ready and that Grandma and Grandpa would be there, unable to wait even one more day before seeing their only grandchild again.

Bea’s heart squeezed. She had missed them all. Her little family. But it had been easy to stay away and avoid all the memories. Easy to pretend the new life she’d found for herself had been her choice.

Not anymore.

Jeremy grabbed the cat carrier and a suitcase from the back seat while Bea carried her purse. The remainder of the few belongings they’d brought along could wait. How strange to be starting over already, after only a year of marriage.

She walked around the car and stood in front of the house, her mother’s absence striking a near physical blow. She would never throw open the front door to greet Bea ever again. Never pull her in for a hug and say, “There’s my girl.” Never hold the child growing inside her.

Bea swallowed. “‘The house that built me.’”

Jeremy stopped a few steps ahead and looked back. “What?”

“Nothing.” She forced herself forward. “It’s just an old Miranda Lambert song about going home.”

He stood close and talked softly. “You okay?”

He was always asking her that. Always concerned about her welfare and happiness. She should be grateful, but sometimes . . .

She struggled to smile and nodded, wanting him to believe she was okay. But really, she had no idea.

FIVE

ch-fig

Mitch studied his mother as she sat in his favorite armchair, unusually still. Her arms were thin, belying their strength, and her short-cropped silver hair clung to her head like snow on the Crazy Mountains.

“When’s Bea coming?” she asked.