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flower pot?

  Danae tiptoed back and checked on the babies one last time, then took a deep breath, put the hood up on her Red Riding Hood cape, and went down to join the festivities.

  * * *

  “Did I really scare the twins that bad?” Dallas still felt awful about making Grace and Emma scream like that. His hairy “paws” lay on the console between them—along with the set of fake fangs.

  Danae just laughed. “I think they’ll survive. It was kind of funny actually, but for a minute there, I was afraid you were going to scar them for life.”

  “Me too. I didn’t even think about how they might react when I came in the house. Corinne and Jesse’s girls didn’t seem to be fazed. I hope the twins don’t have nightmares.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m the one who put them to bed. They were out in ten minutes, smiling all the way, so don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I still can’t believe your Dad gave your brother the prize for best costume.”

  Danae giggled. “You’ve got to admit, it was pretty good.”

  He snorted. “For throwing something together last minute, maybe. Man, we could have used that twenty bucks!” Link had come upstairs stuffed into one of Audrey’s maroon jogging suits with the hood up, folded into a puffy tan sleeping bag, and calling himself a hot dog. He’d looked amazingly like one too.

  “At least you out-punned him by calling him a sausage ‘link.’ Good one, babe!”

  He chuckled, basking in her pride. “That was pretty good, huh?”

  Something caught his eye as they crossed Sprigg Street, and he slowed the car and pointed. She followed his gaze to a group of late-night trick-or-treaters heading up to a house. “They’re out a little late, aren’t they?”

  The clock on the dashboard said nine twenty-seven. “I’m going to guess those are college kids.”

  He nodded. “I remember those days.”

  “Me too. And I can’t say I miss them.”

  He laughed. “No . . . me either. Tonight was fun. You make a very cute Red, by the way. Good enough to eat.” He took his hands off the wheel long enough to make wolf claws.

  “It was a fun evening. It always is.”

  “But . . . ?” She hadn’t acknowledged his teasing, and there was something in her voice that made him think something was on her mind.

  She shook her head. “No. No ‘but.’ I’m doing better, Dallas. I really am. I think it’s been good for me to have the distraction of the shelter. It just really feels good to be doing something that makes a difference, you know?”

  He reached for her hand across the console. She’d talked about nothing else since coming home from her first night volunteering at the shelter. It was a refreshing change. “I’m proud of you. I really am. But . . .” He didn’t want to rock the boat when she’d been so positive lately, but he had to ask. “You’re sure you feel safe there?”

  “Absolutely. They’re very careful with security, and like I’ve told you before, most of the women’s abusers live out of town and have no idea where their wife or girlfriend is.”

  “I was thinking . . .” He paused, not sure this was the right time to bring it up, but he’d started, so may as well finish. “I don’t want to horn in on your thing, but I wondered about going with you sometime.”

  “Really? You want to do that?”

  “If that’s OK with you.”

  She didn’t answer immediately. “Sure. I think there are some couples who volunteer. There’s always maintenance that needs doing on the house, so they’d let a guy volunteer for stuff like that. I think I’d have to get permission for you to be there.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not about his desire to see what the safe house was all about. He’d expected her to be pleased and he wasn’t sure what to do with her lukewarm reaction.

  “I just thought it might be good if I see where you’re working, meet some of the people you’ve talked about.” He shrugged. “You know how I like to be able to picture things.”

  “I know.” She squeezed his hand. “And I’d love to have you there. If you want to come. But don’t do it only on my account. I’m getting along fine there, and I’ve never felt unsafe.”

  “I’m glad. And I’m proud of you for going through with this. I . . . I’m sorry I made a stink about it to start with.”

  “I know you were just taking care of me.”

  “I do what I can.”

  She loosened her seat belt and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “And you do it so well.” She rubbed the stubble on his usually smooth cheek. “You big bad wolf, you. Did you really grow all this fuzz in three days?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Wow. What a man.”

  He puffed out one cheek and leaned toward her, one hand on the wheel. “You like this? There’s plenty more where that came from. Just give me a couple days—”

  “Don’t go too wild on me there, Wolfie.”

  He gave a low growl that made her giggle like a little girl.

  Elation took him by surprise. How long had it been since they’d found this playful way with each other? He felt like he was eighteen again. Except he’d never gotten lucky with Danae Whitman at eighteen. For the thousandth time, he shot up a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t had the privilege of meeting this woman until he’d become a man halfway worthy of her.

  Just enjoy the moment, Brooks. Don’t go all serious on her. He pulled her into a one-armed hug.

  “Both hands on the wheel, buddy.” She wriggled out of his grasp. “Ten and two. Ten and two.”

  “Actually, that’s not right anymore.”

  “What do you mean that’s not right?” She looked at him like he was crazy. “Try telling that to Mr. Bates, my drivers’ ed teacher.”

  “Um, no offense, but that was a long time ago.”

  That earned him a playful slug.

  “No, I’m serious,” he said. “It’s because of the airbags. Apparently ten and two is a dangerous spot for hands and arms if the airbag deploys.”

  “Really? Well, aren’t you just a fount of information?”

  “I’ve got some more information for you too.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” She was flat flirting with him now.

  “I love you.” And he did. So much.

  “I love you too, babe.” She turned serious. “Despite all this stuff we’ve been going through, I still feel like the luckiest woman in the world.”

  “So . . . does that mean I might get lucky tonight?”

  She laughed. “You might . . . you just might.”

  Afraid of losing the almost giddy place they’d reached, and not wanting the subject to turn to “all this stuff they’d been going through,” he turned on the radio to an oldies station and pulled her close again.

  She didn’t resist him this time, but leaned into his one-armed hug, then intertwined her fingers with his, and let out a sigh that boded well for the rest of the evening.

  It was so good to have his wife back. So good.

  11

  Everybody, this is my husband, Dallas.” Danae took his hand and pulled him into the dayroom at Cape Haven where the current five residents, including little Austin, sat watching TV. The show was not one she was familiar with, but from what she could see, it didn’t look appropriate for Austin. She’d had to bite her tongue more times than she could count over the things Misty allowed that sweet boy to see and do.

  “It’s not our business,” Berta had reminded her more than once. Still . . .

  “Hey, ladies.” Dallas lifted a hand, then quickly dropped it to his side. “Nice to meet you all.”

  He seemed uncharacteristically shy, and Danae scrambled to think of a way to make him feel more comfortable. She was proud to have him by her side. They’d gotten the director’s permission for Dallas to work with Danae tonight, since Berta wanted to take a couple of hours off to attend a piano recital of one of her grandkids. She’d be back before the next shift of volunteers came on, but Mary, the di
rector, had been adamant that there must be two volunteers on site at all times. Berta said they’d let Dallas slide through since he’d attended two of the training sessions at the church. And of course, Danae could vouch for him.

  The women finally looked up from the television and gave half-hearted waves before turning back to their show. Danae was embarrassed for Dallas at their almost-rude reception. Of course, all but Misty and a young woman named Jeri were new since the last time Danae had worked.

  Misty had been here for over three weeks now. In fact, after another client had moved in with a relative yesterday, Misty had become the senior resident. She acted like it, too, sometimes bossing the newbies around as if she ran the place. But judging by her aloof demeanor tonight, something was bugging her.

  “Did you guys already have supper?” Danae put on her most chipper attitude.

  And got nothing in return.

  Misty mumbled something that might have been “yeah,” while the rest of them ignored her.

  Then it struck her: it must seem to these women like she was rubbing it in. Each of them was likely looking at divorce or at least separation. Each wore deep scars—both physical and emotional—inflicted on them by men who were supposed to love them. Men they likely still cared for on some level.

  And here she stood, holding her husband’s hand as if he were a trophy she was lording over them. She hadn’t thought of that when she’d told Dallas she didn’t mind if he came with her tonight.

  “Does anyone want popcorn?” She asked, feeling reproved. “We’re going to make some kettle corn.”

  Murmurs of no thanks went around the room. They all seemed to be avoiding meeting her eyes.

  Even Austin hid his face in his mother’s sweater.

  But he peeked up at Danae, and she wrinkled her nose at him, a game they’d played last time she was here.

  He wiggled his little nose, then tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Mama? Can I have some corn?”

  But Misty shushed him, pulling him into her lap and physically turning his face back toward the TV.

  Danae took the hint and motioned for Dallas to follow her out to the kitchen. “I want to talk to Berta before she has to leave.”

  The older woman was bent over the dishwasher, pulling out clean dishes and setting them on the counter. Danae had introduced her and Dallas briefly when they first came in.

  “Berta? I can’t believe you’re doing their dishes,” Danae teased. “You give me so much trouble about doing their jobs for them.”

  The woman straightened, her glasses fogged over with steam. Her cheeks beneath the wire rims colored. “I know, I know . . . but they wanted to watch that stupid show, and I was bored.” She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and shot Dallas a look of aggravation. “Does she give you this much guff?”

  Dallas feigned a stern look. “And then some. Why do you think I send her here as often as possible?” He seemed immediately comfortable with Berta, unlike with the younger women.

  “I should have known.” Berta laughed, but just as quickly sobered. “I understand you’re not crazy about letting us have your wife here at the shelter, but I promise you we’re taking good care of her.”

  “Thank you,” he said, putting an arm around Danae and drawing her close. “I appreciate that. Despite all the guff she gives me, I do kind of like her.”

  “We do too,” Berta said seriously.

  Danae could have hugged her. “I’m going to show him the rest of the house, OK?”

  “Of course.” Berta winked. “I’ll just be here slaving away in the kitchen.”

  Danae took her husband’s arm again, knowing Berta Salmans had already won Dallas over.

  As they turned to leave, Misty appeared in the doorway with Austin in tow. “Is it too late to change our minds about kettle corn?” She dipped her head and refused to look any of them in the eye—the way she’d done when she first came to the shelter. Danae had forgotten how intimidated Misty had seemed then. And she hated that Dallas’s presence had undone in two minutes the confidence Misty had already regained. The cowering hunch wasn’t a becoming look on her. But if even a good, respectful man like Dallas had this effect on Misty, then she had some work to do before she was ready to make it in the world.

  She wondered if Misty’s husband had any idea the pain and life-changing angst he’d inflicted on his wife. Or if he even cared. How could he not care about his own son? Austin was so sweet, and most of the time he seemed like a normal little boy, but Danae had also seen him turn somber and pouty for no reason, and cling unnaturally to his mother—evidence that he hadn’t come out of this unscathed. And who would expect him to? She could scarcely imagine a man using hands that had been created to love a son, to instead, inflict wounds. Wounds that wouldn’t heal easily.

  “Of course it’s not too late,” Dallas said. His nudge made Danae realize she’d zoned out for a minute.

  She flashed a falsely bright smile. “Not at all. We’ll make plenty.”

  “So you’re a big popcorn fan?” Dallas reached to tweak Austin’s nose the way he often did with his little nieces. But Austin flinched, and Misty swooped in to grab him like the eagle Danae had once seen nab a rabbit on Chicory Lane.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Dallas said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached out and gently touched the boy’s arm.

  But Misty pulled her son out of Dallas’s reach. “We’ll be in the dayroom,” she said over her shoulder as she carried Austin out.

  “Well, that was stupid,” Dallas said, shaking his head. “I didn’t even think how that might be—”

  “Don’t think another thing of it,” Berta said. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I just wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’ll be OK.” Danae rubbed his back, hating that the incident had happened. She wanted to go shake Misty for being so defensive and paranoid. And yet, her rational mind understood that Misty had good reason for being overprotective of her son.

  “Maybe I should make myself scarce—after we make popcorn.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Berta said before Danae could answer. “It will do these women good to see what a decent man looks like. They may hold you at arm’s length, but don’t let them scare you.”

  He looked to Danae, asking in that unspoken language they shared, if she agreed with Berta.

  She took his hand briefly. “Berta’s right. And Austin will warm up to you. He’s just a little gun-shy right now.”

  “Sure he is. I should have thought of that.”

  She went to the cupboard and found the popcorn. “Here, you start this, and I’ll get some drinks ready.”

  * * *

  Dallas liked Berta, the older woman Danae had talked so much about, and who often worked the same shift with her. Just meeting Berta, and seeing the house where the shelter was, made him feel better about Danae being here. Though he could have kicked himself for scaring that little kid.

  He was seeing a different side of Danae tonight. And he liked what he saw. She obviously enjoyed showing off her new project, and he liked seeing her tease Berta and navigate the shelter’s kitchen as if she owned it.

  The three of them worked together to fix a cart with snacks and drinks, then Danae rolled the cart out into the dayroom. There was a commercial playing, and the woman were considerably friendlier under the spell of fragrant fresh-popped kettle corn that Dallas had suggested they bring. In fact, despite the fact they’d all said no when Danae first offered, suddenly every woman had a bowl in her lap, and if he were a betting man, he’d bet they’d be making another batch soon.

  Once drinks were distributed, Berta excused herself. “I should be back by nine at the latest,” she told Danae over her shoulder, wheeling the cart back toward the kitchen.

  Danae pulled a couple of dining chairs up to the TV, and Dallas reluctantly sat down.

  He picked up a kernel of popcorn and absently tossed it into the air, then caught it in his mouth. Repeating the action
, he looked and noticed Austin watching him.

  Holding the boy’s gaze, he launched another kernel—higher this time—and caught it on his tongue.

  Austin’s eyes grew round.

  Dallas grinned and popped another piece into the air, but missed it with his mouth, and had to fight to catch it in his hand before it hit the ground. He looked over at the little boy and grinned.

  A second later, he saw something white fly through the air.

  By now Austin’s mother and the three other women were watching with silent smiles.

  Dallas tossed up another piece.

  The little copycat did the same. Only this time, Austin caught it like an old pro. The stunned look on Austin’s face sent them all into convulsions of laughter.

  Dallas felt bold enough to lean over with an outstretched palm. “Give me five, buddy! It took me a week to learn how to do that and you nailed it practically on your first try!”

  The boy puffed out his chest and beamed.

  “Misty,” Danae said, feigning a glare at Dallas, “you have my permission to kick this guy out of here at any time. He’s a bad influence.” She swung her arm back to give Dallas a playful slug, but just as quickly reversed her motion. The sheepish look she gave him beneath hooded eyes said she could totally understand how he’d done the same thing earlier tonight.

  Misty gave a wan smile and turned to shake her index finger at her son. “Just so you pick up anything you drop. You hear me, son?”

  “I won’t drop any of it, Mama. See? I can do two of ’em!” He scooped a small fistful of kernels from the bowl and threw them into the air like confetti. One kernel hit his nose and the others landed on the rug in front of the sofa.

  Misty opened her mouth to scold, but before she got a word out, Austin slid from the cushion and scrambled to retrieve the errant popcorn.

  “Good boy, Oz,” his mother said.

  Dallas cleared his throat and tried to look sheepish. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t cause trouble with that trick.”

  Misty waved him off. “He knows the rules now.”

  “My brother and I didn’t know any other way to eat popcorn. That’s how our dad did it, so that’s how Drew and I did it. Shoot, I thought that was why it was called popcorn. Because you popped it into the air.” He demonstrated with the dregs of his bowl.