Plain Protector. Alison Stone
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Название: Plain Protector
Автор: Alison Stone
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9781474048880
isbn:
Christina didn’t say anything, suggesting she doubted him. “Then, go out and visit Sarah. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”
“I don’t make a habit of asking crime victims out on a date.”
Christina touched his arm. “Will you please get over yourself? We live in a small town. If an attractive young woman happens to move here, there’s nothing wrong with asking her out on a date.”
Nick felt flustered in only the way a little sister could fluster a big brother. “I didn’t come out here to ask you for dating advice. I came as a sheriff’s deputy to ask you if there’s something I should know about our newest resident.”
Christina frowned. “And you know full well I couldn’t tell you.” With both her hands planted on his chest, she shoved him playfully toward the door. He put one hand on the lid of his coffee to prevent it from spilling.
Nick stepped out onto the pavement of the back alley, the sun now above the trees. Christina held the door open with her shoulder. She tapped the metal trim on the bottom of the door with her black loafers. “Sarah could use a friend.”
Nick studied his sister’s face. Christina was the only one who truly got him. He smiled. “Go finish your coffee before it gets cold.”
A shrill buzz sounded from inside the clinic. Someone was at the front door. “Looks like duty calls.”
“Have a good day, little sis.”
“You, too. Be safe.”
Nick waved and watched as the door slammed shut. Instinctively he tested the lock, making sure his sister was secure in the clinic. He knew he couldn’t protect everyone at all times...but he’d sure try.
The image of Sarah’s pretty face filled his mind. His gut told him she was in need of protecting.
* * *
Sarah flipped back the covers on her purple-and-pink bedspread with oversize tulips and gazed around her childhood bedroom. She glanced down at her favorite Holly Hobbie nightgown and ran her hand along its soft fabric. Even in her dream, Sarah knew she was dreaming. She turned her gaze to the corner. Her dolly was tucked under a quilt her mother had made in a crib her father had taken special pride in crafting.
Sarah had had a charmed childhood. Until that fateful day...
Sarah’s dreaming self flipped her legs over the edge of the bed and swung them, trying to take it all in. Trying to memorize every detail of this dream. Hoping her father would come in to kiss her goodnight. To say their evening prayers together.
Feelings of warmth and nostalgia made her smile.
Sarah stretched her legs and curled her toes into the shag rug shaped in the form of a rainbow. She loved that rug. She had spent countless hours with her dollies on that rug pretending they lived in a retro 70s apartment.
Bang! Bang!
Still dreaming, Sarah snapped her attention to the closed bedroom door.
Thud...thud...thud.
Sarah rolled over, consciousness seeping into her dream world. She cracked her eyes open a slit, and a stream of sunshine slipped in through the edge of the white roller shades. Her Amish-made quilt was pretty, but not the same as her childhood favorite. The quilt had slid off the edge of her bed during her fitful dreams. She blinked a few times, trying to recall the last one. The warm fuzziness of it. The return to her childhood.
She smiled and stretched. Talking to her mom last night had made for some vivid dreams. She was surprised she had even slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, until finally getting up around four in the morning. She had gone downstairs, got a glass of water and written in her journal a bit. Her journal kept her sanity, allowing her to empty her mind of her worst fears and worries. Allowing her mind to quiet so she could drift off to sleep.
Sighing, Sarah swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her toes touched the smooth wood of the pine floor. Nothing to curl her toes into. Maybe she’d buy herself an area rug. Undoubtedly the Apple Creek General Store probably didn’t carry what she was looking for. The market for 70s shag here in Apple Creek was slim to nonexistent.
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