In a Heartbeat. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ parked, then climbed out of her Toyota. Instantly, heat suffused her, and her feet crunched the dry blades of grass of the lawn. Glancing around quickly, she noticed a tall, broad-shouldered man with wavy hair standing on the corner. He was watching her with hooded eyes.

      Chilled by the realization, she hurried into the Love ’N Play Day Care, where she’d worked the last four summers. Thanks to Special Agent Brad Booker, who’d helped her relocate, she’d secured a teaching job at the local elementary school, and supplemented her income by working at the day camps in the summer. She waved good morning to the director, Luanne Roaker, who was talking to a parent in her office, and rushed to her classroom to set up for the activities.

      Teaching preschoolers wasn’t the career she’d chosen before the attack, and certainly not the career her father wanted for her, but her priorities had changed drastically when she’d been pulled from that grave. Of course, Dr. Liam Langley, prestigious surgeon, didn’t understand that. First he’d wanted her to be the society wife, marry a doctor, serve on the volunteer committees as her mother had done when she was alive. When Lisa had mentioned a career instead, he’d suggested she follow in his footsteps and become a doctor.

      When she’d chosen teaching, and relocated, he’d been furious.

      But she liked working with the children—they were so innocent.

      Just as she’d been once.

      Never again.

      Since the attack, she’d lost her sense of trust, given up on her dreams of marriage and a family. The kids she taught filled that void. They gave her the love she needed, their innocence a precious commodity, offering her hope that one day she’d be normal.

      Free of the nightmares that haunted her.

      Thirty minutes later, after she’d greeted each of her students with a hug and given Ruby Bailey, her assistant, instructions for setting up the daily art activity, she gathered the group into a circle for their morning share time.

      “Miss Lisa,” four-year-old Jamie said in a low voice. “I had a bad dream last night.”

      Lisa patted the little girl’s back, grateful she’d finally opened up to share. For the first three weeks in her class, she’d barely spoken. “Tell us about it, Jamie.”

      The other children waved their hands, anxious to speak.

      “I had a bad dream wast night, too,” exclaimed Sandy, a towheaded girl who hadn’t learned to say her Ls.

      “I have bad dreams all the time,” Louis yelled. “But my mama says they’re not real.”

      “They are too real,” Jamie mumbled.

      “Mine was about spiders,” Sandy said. “Icky spiders with a miwwion-triwwion wegs.”

      “I dreamed about being a princess,” Peggy said.

      “I wants to be Spiderman for Halloween,” Davie Putnam said.

      “Halloween’s not for a long time,” Billy Lackey shouted.

      “Let’s let Jamie finish first, then the rest of us can share,” Lisa said, gently steering them back on track. “Jamie, Louis is right, dreams aren’t real, but sometimes they feel real, don’t they?”

      Sandy scrunched her nose. “The spiders felt reawl. Wike they were crawwing on me.”

      Lisa squeezed Sandy’s hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t like spiders, either.” She turned back to Jamie. “Is that how you felt, Jamie? Like the monster was right there with you?”

      Jamie bobbed her head up and down, her lower lip trembling. Sandy scooted over and put her arm around Jamie. “It’s awright.”

      Probably a remnant of her own therapy, but Lisa had learned that if she allowed the children to express their anxiety first thing in the morning, their entire day went smoother. “Tell us the rest of the nightmare, Jamie. Sometimes if you talk about your bad dreams, they go away.”

      “There was a big ugly monster hiding under my bed.” Jamie’s eyes widened. “He had green hair and black teeth and scales all over his body!”

      “Eww.” Several kids shrieked, while Roddy Owens, a big kid with a devilish streak, mocked them.

      “Scaredy-cats. Scaredy-cats.”

      Lisa lifted a warning hand. “Roddy, we don’t make fun of others for how they feel.”

      The voice of the therapist she’d seen after the attack echoed in her head. Emotions aren’t always rational. You simply have to learn to control your reactions.

      “What happened next, Jamie?” Lisa asked.

      “He grabbed my feet, and he dragged me under the bed.” Jamie wrapped her arms around her waist. “It was so dark. I don’t like the dark.”

      Lisa hugged her. “A lot of people are afraid of the dark, honey. Maybe you could ask your parents to get you a night-light. I sleep with one myself.”

      “You do?” Jamie said. A few of the children seemed surprised, then others piped in.

      “I gots a night-light,” Kelly Ames claimed. “It’s a Cinderella one.”

      “I got one shaped like a spaceship,” Ernie Walker squealed. “With sparkly colors on it.”

      Lisa relaxed as the children shared, the morning racing by as they broke into groups for play activities. Finger painting was on the agenda for the day, so she tied an apron around her front to protect her clothing. Art was her favorite activity, and although Ruby sometimes complained of the mess, Lisa loved it. The kids could express themselves and their creativity while having fun and learning how to mix colors.

      By one o’clock, when the class left for home, she was exhausted, but her spirits were high as she studied the colorful, bright pictures the children had painted. She and Ruby tacked them on the bulletin board.

      Ruby laughed good-naturedly. “Wow, we have everything from bugs to barrettes.”

      Lisa smiled at Sandy’s rendition of spiders, although Jamie’s interpretation of her monster disturbed her. Could that monster be real? Maybe a parent abusing her?

      Or was she overreacting? Letting her own distrust of men make her suspicious?

      “Ruby, do you know anything about Jamie’s family?”

      Ruby frowned. “Just that her mother died last year.”

      That’s right. Lisa remembered the single parent status from her file, although Jamie never spoke of it. “What about her father?”

      “He’s a contractor, works long hours, but I hear he’s very loving. He’s a deacon at the church.”

      Hmm. Maybe the monster wasn’t her father. Maybe a manifestation of Jamie’s fear of being alone, of losing her mother.

      Lisa’s heart squeezed. She’d lost her own mother when she was about Jamie’s age. She’d СКАЧАТЬ