Death Benefits

“What is it we need to get straight?” Ray asked.

“These two little girls are precious to me,” she said quietly. “They don’t need to be used as pawns so you can try to make amends with me.”

There was a slight hesitation, then, “You know better.” His voice chided but remained gentle, maybe a little sad. “Let’s be honest with one another for a moment. You feel you need to place some distance between the two of us on this trip, and so you must make sure I don’t bond with Lucy or Brittany.”

“You have a problem with that?” she asked.

“I do. A considerable amount as a matter of fact.”

Ginger shifted in her seat. No one else had quite the same knack of rendering her speechless like he did.

is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Cheryl and Mel Hodde (pronounced Hoddee). When they first met, Mel had just begun his new job as an E.R. doctor in Cheryl’s hometown, and Cheryl was working on a novel. Cheryl’s matchmaking pastor set them up on an unexpected blind date at a local restaurant. Surprised by the sneak attack, Cheryl blurted the first thing that occurred to her, “You’re a doctor? Could you help me paralyze someone?” Mel was shocked. “Only temporarily, of course,” she explained when she saw his expression. “And only fictitiously. I’m writing a novel.”

They began brainstorming immediately. Eighteen months later they were married, and the novels they set in fictitious Ozark towns began to sell. The first novel in the Hideaway series, published in the Steeple Hill Single Title program, won a prestigious Christy Award for Best Romance in 2004.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

With thanks to Ray and Clydene Brown, real, live heroes who were there for us in our time of need.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

On New Year’s Eve, Lucy Jameson dreamed she saw her dead mama’s face in the fire. Mama had a pretty face, with eyes the color of sunshine through leaves, eyes that filled with love when she smiled. That was what Lucy missed the most about her—the smile, the love.

Mama didn’t always smile, though.

In the fire, her eyes looked scary, and her mouth moved as if she might be shouting—though no sound came from her lips. She acted this way when she needed to get high. Soon, if she got high, she’d be happy for a few days.

Lucy wasn’t supposed to know about these things, because she was only eight and a half. Some kids just knew, whether they were supposed to or not.

Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.

Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.

She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.

“Sissy?”

Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.

There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.

She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.

Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.

Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stank.

“Did you have another bad dream?”

“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.

“Was it about Mama again?”

Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?

Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”

Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”