miles away, and her life there felt like it had happened a hundred years ago.
The first two years had been a struggle, but she and Jonah had survived.
But then chronic ear infections and bronchitis had besieged Jonah, and she began to lose waitressing job after waitressing job because she couldn't afford a babysitter to stay with him alone, and the day care center that catered to working, single mothers wouldn't take a sick child. She was at the end of her rope, broke, scared and starving, having spent almost the last of her cash feeding Jonah and paying for his medicine. She hadn't paid utility bills in three months, and the phone had been cut off the day before. The rent was due, and the landlord had been about as understanding as he was going to be.
She remembered standing on a street corner in downtown, Jonah perched on her hip as she waited for the "walk" sign to flash. The dome of the capital building loomed several blocks up, massive and white against the bright blue sky. Glittering Lake Mendota stretched to the horizon on her right. The air was cool and crisp, fresh with the promise of spring. She had five dollars in her pocket and was heading to a diner the next street over to apply for a waitressing job. If she didn't get it, she didn't know what she would do.
They would have to go back.
She shuddered just thinking about it, but let the scenario unfold in her head. She would go to jail for kidnapping. And Layton Keller would raise her son to be just like him. Stone cold dead inside. She imagined she would never see Jonah again, not even for a supervised visit.
But at least he wouldn't starve.
"Want down," the toddler said, squirming in her arms.
She smiled as she lowered him to the ground, glad for the reprieve. The muscles in her arms were screaming from carrying him, and she felt weak and shaky from lack of food. "Okay, but you have to hold Mommy's hand."
He gripped her fingers obediently, his blue eyes wide as he looked around at the tall buildings and rushing pedestrians.
The light turned, and they crossed the street, Jonah's little legs pumping to keep up. They were halfway down the next block when Alaina began to feel dizzy, and she paused to brace a hand on the wall of a building. Pedestrians streamed by, oblivious as Jonah tugged her fingers.
"Let's go," he said, mimicking the commanding voice she used to get him into the bathtub at night. "Let's go. Let's go."
She wondered vaguely if, when she said that to him at night, her tone was as annoyed. But then the sunny day turned white, and her knees buckled.
When she opened her eyes, she started up. "Jonah!"
A firm hand pressed her back. "Just take it easy, missy. He's right here. Look."
She turned her head to see him plopped on the floor only a few feet away, surrounded by books and toys. His brow was furrowed as he concentrated on trying to fit a red plastic square into a triangular hole, not a care in his two-year-old world.
A glance around told her they were in a bookstore. Shelves reached to the ceiling, packed with old and new books alike. Overstuffed sofas and chairs provided comfy perches for customers while they read. Soft piano music set the mood for the store: soothing, unhurried.
Alaina realized she was stretched out on one of those overstuffed sofas, and that the older woman kneeling beside her was watching her intently. The woman was at least seventy, her hair white, her face lined in a way that reminded Alaina of a comfortable, well-worn leather coat. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that time had not managed to fade, were kind. And concerned.
Alaina tried to smile as she sat up. "I'm so sorry I --"
The woman put a cool hand on her arm. "I think you should stay put a little longer, dear."
"I'm fine, really."
"It won't hurt you to sit here a minute," the woman replied, gentle but firm. "Cliff will be back any minute now with some water."
Still shaky, Alaina let the sofa's cushions support her back, too weak to even sit up fully. She
The first two years had been a struggle, but she and Jonah had survived.
But then chronic ear infections and bronchitis had besieged Jonah, and she began to lose waitressing job after waitressing job because she couldn't afford a babysitter to stay with him alone, and the day care center that catered to working, single mothers wouldn't take a sick child. She was at the end of her rope, broke, scared and starving, having spent almost the last of her cash feeding Jonah and paying for his medicine. She hadn't paid utility bills in three months, and the phone had been cut off the day before. The rent was due, and the landlord had been about as understanding as he was going to be.
She remembered standing on a street corner in downtown, Jonah perched on her hip as she waited for the "walk" sign to flash. The dome of the capital building loomed several blocks up, massive and white against the bright blue sky. Glittering Lake Mendota stretched to the horizon on her right. The air was cool and crisp, fresh with the promise of spring. She had five dollars in her pocket and was heading to a diner the next street over to apply for a waitressing job. If she didn't get it, she didn't know what she would do.
They would have to go back.
She shuddered just thinking about it, but let the scenario unfold in her head. She would go to jail for kidnapping. And Layton Keller would raise her son to be just like him. Stone cold dead inside. She imagined she would never see Jonah again, not even for a supervised visit.
But at least he wouldn't starve.
"Want down," the toddler said, squirming in her arms.
She smiled as she lowered him to the ground, glad for the reprieve. The muscles in her arms were screaming from carrying him, and she felt weak and shaky from lack of food. "Okay, but you have to hold Mommy's hand."
He gripped her fingers obediently, his blue eyes wide as he looked around at the tall buildings and rushing pedestrians.
The light turned, and they crossed the street, Jonah's little legs pumping to keep up. They were halfway down the next block when Alaina began to feel dizzy, and she paused to brace a hand on the wall of a building. Pedestrians streamed by, oblivious as Jonah tugged her fingers.
"Let's go," he said, mimicking the commanding voice she used to get him into the bathtub at night. "Let's go. Let's go."
She wondered vaguely if, when she said that to him at night, her tone was as annoyed. But then the sunny day turned white, and her knees buckled.
When she opened her eyes, she started up. "Jonah!"
A firm hand pressed her back. "Just take it easy, missy. He's right here. Look."
She turned her head to see him plopped on the floor only a few feet away, surrounded by books and toys. His brow was furrowed as he concentrated on trying to fit a red plastic square into a triangular hole, not a care in his two-year-old world.
A glance around told her they were in a bookstore. Shelves reached to the ceiling, packed with old and new books alike. Overstuffed sofas and chairs provided comfy perches for customers while they read. Soft piano music set the mood for the store: soothing, unhurried.
Alaina realized she was stretched out on one of those overstuffed sofas, and that the older woman kneeling beside her was watching her intently. The woman was at least seventy, her hair white, her face lined in a way that reminded Alaina of a comfortable, well-worn leather coat. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that time had not managed to fade, were kind. And concerned.
Alaina tried to smile as she sat up. "I'm so sorry I --"
The woman put a cool hand on her arm. "I think you should stay put a little longer, dear."
"I'm fine, really."
"It won't hurt you to sit here a minute," the woman replied, gentle but firm. "Cliff will be back any minute now with some water."
Still shaky, Alaina let the sofa's cushions support her back, too weak to even sit up fully. She
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