Dead Again: A Romantic Thriller by Cooper-Posey Tracy

Author:Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense action thriller, country romance novels, drama romantic, suspense best sellers, suspense thrillers and mysteries best sellers
Publisher: Tracy Cooper-Posey

Chapter Thirteen

Sophie was in her favourite spot on the back verandah, enjoying the minimal warmth of a sunny December Sunday.

She sometimes came here to rest in the quiet moments and lulls between kid crises and loads of laundry, which wasn’t nearly as often as she would have liked. Life seemed to speed up with each succeeding year.

Except that this year, the gears had changed down a little. No, to be perfectly frank, the slowdown had happened just in the last few weeks.

Since Martin came.

She sat on an old cane-bottom rocker, which had been there when she’d bought the place. It was really old, with enormous curving rockers and no arms. The kids had tried it once and found its uncontrolled motion alarming and never been tempted to play on it again. She found a gentle rocking on it soothing. She had grabbed a blanket from the old linen closet at the bottom of the stairs to cover her legs.

She was enjoying the peace, while the kids were in the lounge watching The Grinch and stringing popcorn. Or eating it, most likely.

The rocker’s reclined chair tilted her back, so that the verandah railing was the perfect place to rest her feet. She could look up into the sky above the firs without craning her neck.

She gazed into the pale blue sky and soaked up the small sounds of a quiet day—the firs whispering in the tiny breeze that didn’t touch her in her sunny corner, the muffled sounds of the movie and noises in the kitchen as Jinni went about her business. The odd car on the street in front of the house, the sound traveling down the gap between her house and the next one, a good thirty yards to the right. She listened, her mind in neutral, while she rocked.

It took a while before she realized that the chair wasn’t squeaking the way it always did. Martin must have oiled it or tightened up screws or something.

Martin had been here six weeks. Six weeks. The time had slid by on well-oiled wheels. The lack of squeak in her rocker seemed to be a good sample of how the rest of her life had eased up, straightened out and just seemed to be running smoothly.

In part that was why she was out on the verandah, watching the wisps of cloud move by. She had very little she had to get done today. That was such an enormous change from what life had been like before. The small evolution that had made it possible deserved recognition. Acknowledgement.

It wasn’t just the wiring that Martin had silently taken care of. It was tiny things like this rocker and the floorboard on the front verandah that for years everyone in the household had learned to step around, or over or else risk a black eye when it flipped up and slammed them in the nose. The basement was now free of dust and grime, a well-lighted workroom where furniture and appliances got fixed and beloved toys mended.

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