Read Online Night Stars and Mourning Doves by Margo Hoornstra - Free Book Online

car?”
    “This is mine.” She indicated a brand new silver Mercedes she stopped beside. The same one he’d seen at the daycare.
    He took a stutter step then stopped too. “This is your car?” Another pause and he tried to gather his thoughts. “This?”
    She fisted the keys collected from her purse and, with a click of the remote, unlocked the doors. “Get in.”
    Doing as she instructed, he slammed the door then stretched the seat belt across him and clicked it into place. She did the same then reached up to adjust the rear view mirror, and a figurine dangling there caught his attention.
    “I’ve never seen one of those before.” Suspended on a beaded chain from the mirror’s base was an angel figurine with a seed pearl head, delicate metal wings and a crystal body. “It’s kind of neat.”
    She reached up again. “Angela made that for me.” It spun and whirled at her touch causing pieces of sunlight to wink and shimmer through its prism. “For good luck and protection.” Her hand dropped to grip the steering wheel. “While I’m in the car.”
    Pulling out of the parking lot soon after, she blended with traffic as they made small talk. But, after a few moments she took a turn he hadn’t expected.
    “You’re going to miss your entrance onto the expressway.”
    “I know.”
    “It’s the quickest way home.”
    Slowing for a red traffic signal on the two lane highway she’d chosen, she cast him a look of mock horror. “You aren’t a back seat driver are you?”
    He shifted on the plush leather, unsure where to put his hands. “No. You’re relatively new here. I grew up here. I know my way around.”
    “I’m sure you do.” Attention returned to her driving and the now green light, she accelerated. “I like to take the back roads whenever I can. I detest expressways. Probably a throwback to my time in LA.” He got a side-long look. “You aren’t in a huge hurry are you?”
    “Not at all.”
    “It’s a pretty drive.”
    He took in the delicate curve of her throat, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, the dimple on the side of her mouth that played hide and seek with him as she talked.
    “If you say so.”
    “I do. I mean look at this scenery.”
    Pulling his attention away from the pleasure of taking in her profile, he did as she asked. All sorts of trees, elm, maple, fir, their leaves green and lush, lined the roadway three and four deep. Behind the miniature forest stood alternate fields of knee high corn and golden wheat. All the vegetation, short, tall, or in between swayed and shimmied under the direction of a stiff summer breeze.
    “It is pretty.” His covert gaze slid over her. “All of it.”
    “I can’t wait until fall. Imagine what colors these leaves will take on. They don’t have the changing seasons out west either.”
    “Fall was Jan’s favorite season.” Aw hell. He’d gone and said it out loud. “My—uh—late wife loved the fall. Sorry.”
    The next sidelong glance lasted a little longer. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Eric.”
    Her voice was kind, soothing, and he struggled to swallow. “Sometimes I think I embarrass people when I talk about her.”
    “Only the people who don’t really matter, maybe.” She studied the road in front of her. “What’s wrong with holding on to the memories?”
    “Are you asking me or telling me? Because I could respond either way.”
    “It goes without saying Jan was a significant part of your life. And certainly of Jay’s. Enjoy that. Embrace it. Don’t be ashamed. And don’t rob Jay of the memories of his mother because of your own feelings and reactions.”
    “Is that a nice way of saying hang ups?”
    “No it’s a nice way of saying feelings and reactions. Don’t penalize Jay because of them.”
    “I’d never hurt my son.”
    “Not intentionally. None of us would.” She stopped to take a breath. “There’s nothing worse than a child in pain.”
    “You sound as if you speak from