Fearless by Mike Dellosso

Author:Mike Dellosso [Dellosso, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Christian, USA
ISBN: 9781621362418
Google: kfbTLwrdb_QC
Amazon: 1621362418
Barnesnoble: 1621362418
Publisher: Realms
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

AMY SAT IN the middle of the nursery floor, an open cardboard box in front of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she did nothing to swipe them away. She wanted to cry; she needed to. Following the miscarriage she’d cried for days, but then the tears had stopped flowing, just dried up like a shallow creek bed in the middle of summer’s heat. The pain hadn’t stopped, though, no, it had only gone underground, tunneling to such depths she thought she’d never find her way out. But then the girl showed up, Louisa, and touched her. Amy had no idea what that touch had done or what the strange little girl’s intentions were, but a splinter of light was there now, piercing the darkness like a laser. It wasn’t much, but it was a sliver of hope where before there was none.

Amy still didn’t feel completely comfortable with Louisa in the house. The girl’s behavior was odd and sometimes disconcerting, but there was something about her that Amy couldn’t deny being attracted to. The whole thing with Audrey, for example, was both intriguing and confusing. When Jim told Amy what had happened, she’d almost started crying. On one level it was completely unbelievable; on another, given what she’d seen and felt from Louisa firsthand, it was totally plausible and didn’t surprise her one bit. She still didn’t know what to make of it, though. She didn’t know whether she should be in awe of this girl in her house or in fear of her.

Amy was glad that Jim had spent most of the day with her, playing games, going to the library to pick up books, and making supper with her. Right now they were downstairs watching a DVD while the casserole they’d made baked in the oven. As for herself, Amy had spent the day as she usually did lately, taking naps, wandering the house, halfheartedly making attempts at various chores. Now some strange surge of energy or resignation had led her to this room, to tackle the worst job of all.

Amy tilted the box toward her and stared at the emptiness. She had to pack up the things in the room, it was time, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She felt like she’d be closing the book on any memory or hope she had of her daughter, her precious little girl. The daughter she was going to rock to sleep and cuddle. The daughter whose poopy diapers she would change. The daughter she—

“What are you doing, hon?”

Jim stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, hands in his pockets.

Amy shrugged, sighed. She looked around the room. “I was going to start packing this stuff up, but . . . ” She let her words trail off.

“But you can’t bring yourself to do it.”

“I guess.”

Jim stepped into the room and leaned against the wall.

Lifting her face to him, Amy felt the sudden urge to stand and fall into his arms. Jim had been so patient with her, so loving and caring.

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