She sucked in a gasp. “My trailer… it’s got everything we own in it.”
He reached his hand farther over the counter, this time laying it over hers, and she relished the feel.
“You parked near some trees so that created a buffer. But honestly, the most important thing is that you and Rosie are safe. The trailer’s contents can be replaced if necessary.”
“God, you’re right. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve had a harrowing time.”
The warm feel of his large hand on her moved through her. She looked down, surprised at how comforting it felt. When was the last time a man touched me in concern to offer comfort? She hated to admit it had been many years since Marty had done that. Oh, sure, they’d had a decent sex life, and he’d been a fun lover. But that was always it with him—fun. Never giving of himself when she needed it.
Blinking out of her thoughts, heat filled her face. “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity.” He smiled, but before he replied, she pulled her hand back. “Well, I really should go check on Rosie.”
“Yeah, I’m ready to turn in also.”
He flipped off the lights as they walked through the house and stopped in the upstairs hall. “Goodnight, Liam.”
“Goodnight, Amy. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She smiled, nodded, and turned to go into her bedroom, closing the door with a soft click. Stepping over to the bed, her smile widened at the sight of Rosie, curled with Bubbie held tightly in her arms, sleeping soundly.
“What a crazy day, sweetheart,” she whispered. Climbing into the bed, snuggling with her daughter, she closed her eyes, but instead of seeing the raging storm rocking their vehicle, Liam’s face filled her mind. What a crazy day.
Amy opened her eyes, blinking at the darkness in the room but easily able to see Rosie’s grinning face right in front of hers. Her daughter was leaning over, her little hands clutching Amy’s cheeks.
“Mommy, it’s morning!”
Blinking some more in the dark room, the muffled sounds of the storm outside, she yawned widely. “How can you tell, baby girl?”
“I knows ‘cause I woke.”
“Oh, so if you wake up, then it’s morning?”
“Yep. I knows.”
She leaned forward, kissed Rosie’s cheek, and stretched her arms up. Rosie mimicked her stretch, and Amy tickled her under her arms.
“No, Mommy! I gotta pee!”
“Then let’s go. We don’t want to pee in Mr. Liam’s bed!”
Rosie giggled as she slid down off the bed and raced into the connecting bathroom. Still blinking the sleep from her eyes, Amy followed her daughter. “Wash your hands,” she said between yawns.
“Can we have cereal?”
“I don’t know what Mr. Liam has, honey, but we need to be quiet when we go downstairs. I’ll find something for us to eat.”
Finishing in the bathroom, they moved into the bedroom where Rosie began to look for something to wear. After digging through most of her clothes, she settled on pink leggings and a t-shirt with a sparkly unicorn on the front.
Amy looked at the exploded suitcase and shook her head. “You made a mess.”
“I needed clothes.”
“Did you have to scatter all of them around to choose an outfit?”
“I needed these clothes.”
Her daughter’s almost-four-year-old logic was a good enough answer for Amy. Finding matching pink leggings, she chose a tunic top of pale pink.
Rosie looked her over. “You need a unicorn, Mommy.”
Stifling another yawn, she thought of the rental SUV, trailer, the hurricane, no home at the moment, and nodded. “You got that right, Rosie. I need a unicorn.” Taking her daughter’s hand, they quietly stepped into the hall, and she noted Liam’s door was still shut. It struck her that with everything that had gone wrong, being rescued by a Sheriff who happened to be as kind as he was easy on the eyes was incredibly fortuitous, and she chuckled at the thought of Liam as a lucky unicorn. A pull on her hand brought her attention back to Rosie’s empty stomach.
Tiptoeing downstairs, she saw the time on the stove clock. Just after six a.m. Another hour of sleep would have been nice. While it was comforting to know the hurricane shutters on the windows were helping to keep them safe, she wanted to see outside. “Stay here, sweetie. I’ll be right back.” She walked to the front door and turned the knob, opening it slowly. Her eyes widened at the sheets of rain coming down sideways as the winds whipped the tops of the few trees she could see. Gasping, she shut the door quickly, glad to be somewhere safe.
Turning, she noted the pictures on the mantle and walked over. There were multiple framed photographs of Liam from childhood with his large family, him as a teen with his arms around a group of guys all wearing Baytown Boys baseball shirts, and him in his Army uniform. Set amongst the pictures were jars filled with green, blue, clear, and brown broken glass.
“Pancakes. I want pancakes.”
Looking down at Rosie’s bright eyes, she grinned and stepped away from the living room. Touching her daughter’s nose with the end of her finger, she reached out her hand. “Tell you what… let’s see if we can find what we need and then we’ll make pancakes for Mr. Liam, too.”
“Yes!” Her small fist shot into the air.
Amy was glad to see Rosie appeared to not have suffered from the storm last night. She turned to the cabinets, pantry, and refrigerator, finding what she needed, including a tub of strawberries. Pulling a stool over to the counter, she helped Rosie up so that she would be able to participate. Soon, pancake mix was mostly in the bowl with the eggs and milk, only a bit sloshed onto the counter along with the eggshells. Ladling the batter onto the hot griddle, she warned, “Stay back, baby.”
It only took a few minutes to plate the fluffy pancakes, drench them with syrup, and cover them with strawberries. Since Liam had not come down, she put his on warm. Sitting at the table with Rosie, they dove into the deliciousness.
Rosie picked up her glass of milk with sticky hands, drinking most of it before it tipped when she put it back down. “Uh oh,” she said, eyes wide. “Sorry.”
Before Amy had a chance to grab a paper towel, Liam walked into the kitchen, his eyes wide at his guests before they shifted to look at the mess.
8
Liam couldn’t believe he’d slept later than normal, but then, he’d been exhausted from hurricane preparation in the county, getting his house ready to withstand the storm, and unexpected house guests that completely caught him off guard. Plus, his thoughts about Amy and her life story had rolled around his mind long into the night.
Now, it was only six-thirty in the morning, and he’d planned on a cup of coffee in solitude while checking in with the deputies and other law enforcement to see how the county had withstood the night. Instead, there was flour, gobs of batter, broken eggshells, multiple bowls, spoons, and wads of paper towels on the counter, not to mention a very sticky-fingered little girl staring at him with strawberry-red juice on her chin and milk on the table. He blinked, his feet glued to the floor.