Read Online Come Morning by Pat Warren - Free Book Online Page A

realizing she’d upset Bobby’s little friend. She swung about and pulled Annie into a hug, a hug so like the many she’d shared with her son, loving the feel of the small, warm body in her arms. Then she straightened and slowly got to her feet.
    Finding another tissue, she dabbed at Annie’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She had no business doing this, sobbing out here, she who took pride in controlling herself, most especially in public. Chris and Pam Reed, Annie’s parents, wouldn’t be pleased to know she’d upset their daughter.
    “It’s okay,” Annie said. “Do you feel better now?”
    “Yes, I do.” From somewhere, Briana dredged up a smile for the little girl’s sake. “Thank you for helping me.” She glanced toward the opening in the back shrubs, realizing it was somewhat overgrown and needed trimming. She’d get to it soon. Meanwhile, there was enough room to scoot through and she had some explaining to do. “Is your mommy home?”
    “Uh-huh. She’s hanging up the wash.”
    Briana hurriedly stuffed Bobby’s things back into the shed, locked the door, then held out her hand. “Let’s go talk to her, why don’t we?”
    “Okay.” Holding hands, they walked toward the shrub opening.
    In the upstairs bedroom of his father’s house, Slade stood at the open window that overlooked Briana’s backyard. Through the screen, he watched her walk hand in hand with the little girl. As they disappeared from sight, he let out a long breath.
    During his years as a firefighter, he’d seen a lot of people in despair, people who’d lost their loved ones, their homes, their future. There were one or two who stood out in his memory, especially the recent incident. He immediately recognized Briana’s pain—it was as soul-deep as any he’d seen.
    He’d been lying down trying to sleep when he’d heard her come outside and start fussing around with the shed, pushing and pulling to get it open. He’d almost gotten up to give her a hand when he’d heard her crash-land. The woman seemed prone to falling. Then, almost immediately, he’d heard her wrenching sobs.
    He’d risen and looked out the window. She’d been bent over double with toys scattered all around her. For a moment, he’d thought she’d hurt herself on something. But while he was deciding whether or not to go down to her, he realized from the sounds she made that she was hurting, all right, the kind of hurt that came from deep down inside. Something in the shed had apparently triggered her anguish.
    Then the little girl had arrived and he’d unabashedly listened to their conversation.
    Slade reached for the glass on his nightstand and drank, tasting bitterness that had nothing to do with the orange juice. Now he knew why she’d been critical of him yesterday about wallowing in self-pity and drinking away his troubles. Briana Morgan had lost both her son and husband, if he’d heard correctly. All the while he’d been wandering around his father’s house and all over town feeling sorry for himself, she’d been struggling with far better reasons to weep and complain and seek escape in a bottle than he had.
    He stared out the window for long minutes, feeling regret—for her, for himself, for all the sad, lonely people in the world. Despite his earlier annoyance with Briana Morgan, his encounter with her today, and watching her weep, had shifted things for Slade. He was impressed with the way she’d apologized to him—a relative stranger—when she needn’t have. And he greatly admired the way she’d pulled herself together for the sake of the little neighbor girl. She was quite a woman and he regretted that he couldn’t allow himself to get to know her better.
    Briana Morgan needed understanding and support, someone’s undivided attention, someone who had his life together and could offer her hope and help. Instinctively, Slade knew that he wasn’t that person. Hell, he couldn’t help himself, so how could he help