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Back A Penny for Your Thoughts Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. A PENNY
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
  60. About the Author
  61. Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
  62. About the Publisher

I felt a little more calm, but still there lingered an infinite sadness. I sat in the chair next to the window and counted the stars and thought about Bryan and how much he had loved the night sky. He knew the names of hundreds of stars, and when we were first married, we would take our sleeping bags out into the backyard and look up at the sky and make up names for the ones he didn’t know. We called one CB220—for Callie and Bryan and February twentieth, the day we were married. I tried to find CB220 now, and as I did I felt an ache of pure loneliness, a pain so agonizing that it made me double over.

“I miss you,” I whispered, the tears starting up again. “Bryan, how I miss you so.”

I cried, as quietly as I could manage, but still I cried. After a while, I wasn’t even crying for me anymore; I was crying for Marion, for all the women I knew who had loved their husbands and then lost them. I cried for the babies Bryan and I would never have. I cried for myself, for the lonely life I had carved out of a little house on an isolated stretch of the Chesapeake, with only a few close friends and a dog to keep me company. I cried until I didn’t have any more tears. I cried until the sharp pain of loss turned to a dull ache. Then I sat for a long time, staring out at nothing, wishing this job could be finished and I could return to the peace and quiet of my own life, to the safety of a place that didn’t make me continuously confront my own unspeakable loss.

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Seven

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Despite my own personal sorrow, I had a job to do. At 2:00 A.M., I knew it was time to put on my surveillance gear and get on out to my hidden perch in the tree house. I dug through my pile of clothes and pulled out black pants and a black sweater. The only shoes I had were my good Ferragamo pumps and a pair of sneakers on loan from Judith. I put on the sneakers and then pulled a pair of black socks on over them. I knew I would ruin the socks, but I also knew that it wouldn’t do if my bright white feet were spotted as I made my way across the lawn.

Once I was finished with the shoes, I turned my attention to my hair, fashioning it back into its tight chignon. Grabbing a blanket from the bed, I tightly rolled it up and tucked it under my arm, then stealthily headed out into the night.