Anna Adams - The Man from Her Past

In the kitchen, Hope climbed back into a chair. The water Cassie had set to boil in a saucepan on the stove was still, the gas beneath it turned off.

Hope looked up as Cassie put two and two together. “I did it.”

The stove was like theirs at home, far from here. Her little girl wanted to be a big girl as quick as she could and never thought about saucepan handles. “I’ve asked you not to mess with stoves when I’m not in the room.”

“I’m okay. It’s like ours. I knew how.”

“Hope, I’ve asked you…”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“Do you like to help cook, Hope?” Van started removing paper cartons from his sack. The poisonous resentment in his voice had faded.

He was so very friendly.

“We were gonna have those instant grits.” She pointed at the counter.

He made a face at the box. “I’ve saved you from an ugly fate.”

“Mommy likes ’em.” She slid out of her chair and went to his elbow.

“You’re not such a big fan?”

He still hadn’t looked into her innocent face.

“I don’t mind ’em.” Lying, Hope smiled at Cassie, offering her loyalty.

“Maybe you’ll like this stuff instead.” Setting the last carton on the table, he looked at Hope and a smile spread across his face. A real smile. Wide, warm. Real.

Hope laughed out loud. “I was kinda scared to come here, but you’re nice, Mr. Van. I like your face.”

He laughed, too. Slowly, his hand curved around the back of Hope’s head.

For a split second, before he pulled back and whisked the bag off the table.

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