Hannah Alexander - Death Benefits

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to convince me to send her back to Minsk.”

“Not at all,” Graham said quickly. “I want her stateside. That heart trouble she had last year spooked me, even though it turned out to be a harmless arrhythmia. What I want is to see her forgive you.”

“I’d like that, too.” Ray sighed, frowning at the puzzle that had confused him since his conflict with Ginger last March. “I’ve never known her to hold a grudge. She’s changed her guiding principle at this stage in her life—and the grudge is with me. It isn’t a comfortable place to be.”

“She’s been hurt deeply. I’d like to see you two work out whatever complications have developed between you.”

Ray nodded. Ginger Carpenter would be a definite complication on this trip. “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Ginger glanced over her shoulder and saw Ray and Graham with their heads together. As she continued to watch suspiciously, Ray glanced up and caught her gaze.

She held it. He needed to understand that she wasn’t going to just forget the past as if it hadn’t happened. She’d love to be able to do just that, but it would be dishonest. She’d tried to forgive, just as the Bible said to do. She’d even heard the reminder in church yesterday—forgive your enemy.

Forgive. The minister had said nothing about forgetting, and that was good, because she thought that was a stupid idea. If someone stabs you in the back, are you smart to forget, and give them the chance to do it again?

She wasn’t that kind of fool. She’d done a lot of stupid things in her life, but she’d learned from her mistakes, especially the one she’d made with Ray Clyde.

Ray’s expression told her that he and her brother were discussing her blatant, rude response to Ray’s presence. Fine. Let ’em talk.

The plane landed, they de-boarded, and Ginger took Brittany’s hand to keep her close. The child had a tendency to wander away.

Lucy suddenly gasped and dragged Ginger to a stop.

“It’s him, Aunt Ginger. It looks just like him!” Pointing at a slender, dark-haired man in the concourse, Lucy shook with fear.

Ginger had grown so attuned to Lucy and Brittany that she had known before Lucy even stopped her that she was suddenly in a panic. Her eyes, glistening with fear, were so wide, her expression so vulnerable that it broke Ginger’s heart.

Ginger followed Lucy’s line of vision, and indeed, saw a teenager who looked a lot like Rick Fenrow. He had thick, black hair, a pale, almost gaunt face, and eyebrows that looked like untamable caterpillars.

“No, honey. It’s okay,” she said, squatting to face Lucy, to hold her gaze and assure her she was safe. “That young man isn’t Rick.”

Lucy stared into her eyes, sober, serious, probing, as if attempting to discern if Ginger was merely trying to placate her.

“You’ve seen Rick Fenrow, Lucy,” she said softly. “We both know what he looks like, and if that was him,” she said, pointing at the kid, “I’d be calling for the police. You can trust me. Rick is older than this young man by at least ten or fifteen years.”

Lucy blinked then and sighed quietly, and Ginger saw some of the tension leave her face. “Okay.”

Ginger glanced up to find Ray’s gaze on her again, and the expression on his face suggested that he was trying to determine the wisdom of joining her in her efforts to reassure Lucy.

Did he know about the prison break? He looked confused.

“He’s a doppelgänger,” Ginger said.

Lucy frowned. “Huh?”

Ginger tried not to smile. Whenever Lucy heard a new word, she was distracted for hours trying to pronounce it and understand it. “That means you’re looking at someone who seems familiar, but really isn’t. That young man over there isn’t Rick, because he’s a kid. See, those are probably his parents with him.” She pointed to a middle-aged couple walking beside the youngster. To Lucy, of course, a teenage boy would look like a grown man.

What concerned Ginger was that Lucy obviously did know what Rick Fenrow looked like. That might be because she remembered him from last year, when he lived in the same apartment complex. It might also be because she’d gotten a good look at him in the window last night.

Ginger didn’t want to even think about that.

Oh, Lord, protect us.

Lucy watched the dopoganer—or whatever it was Aunt Ginger called him—hand his ticket to somebody in a uniform, then follow a line of people out of sight. He didn’t look at Lucy once.

Maybe that was because he really didn’t know her. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want her to know he knew her. What if he was pretending? What if he came back and grabbed her or Brittany when no one was looking?

Trying to think like a killer wasn’t easy.

She wanted to watch to make sure he didn’t come back, but Willow took her by the hand.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a short layover, and a lot of walking to do to get to our next gate.”

Graham picked up Brittany and carried her on ahead of them. Uncle Preston walked on Lucy’s other side, with his hand on her shoulder and his other hand holding his cell phone while he talked to his girlfriend, Sheila.

Uncle Preston was big and strong. Lucy felt safe with him.

She felt safe with Willow, too. Willow was tall and strong and brave.

Last year, the night the fire broke out at Uncle Preston’s cabin, Willow had broken into the apartment to rescue Lucy and Brittany because she couldn’t get them to answer the door. She had been the first person to discover they were alone at night while Mama worked. That was when she argued with Mama, and then started babysitting them so they wouldn’t be alone.

Lucy looked at Willow’s arm, and with her fingers she traced the scar Willow had gotten from cutting herself on the window when she broke in to save them. “Does this still hurt sometimes?”

Willow smiled down at her. “Nope. It doesn’t even itch now.”

Lucy would never tell anybody this, but she loved looking at that scar. Every time she saw it, she remembered that Willow would do anything to protect her and Brittany. And that was even before she was going to adopt them.

“Are Brittany and me in danger?” Lucy asked softly.

Willow’s steps slowed and stopped, and she knelt down to look into Lucy’s eyes, right there in the middle of that crowded hallway in the airport. Lucy had heard people say she looked as if she could be Willow’s daughter, with the same dark eyebrows and hair.

Lucy wanted to look like Willow. She wanted to act like her, too, strong and kind and brave. And she never wanted to do drugs or act crazy, like Mama.

“Honey, I know you were frightened last night,” Willow said gently. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m also sorry you overheard about Rick Fenrow’s prison break. But you need to understand how much we love you. We aren’t going to take any chances with you and Brittany, believe me.”

“Do you think he’s following us?”

“It doesn’t seem possible he could know where we’re going, but we’ve got Larry with us, just in case. He’s keeping watch on us.”

“You’re scared of Rick Fenrow, too, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

Instead of denying it, Willow drew Lucy close and hugged her.

“Okay, ladies,” Larry Bager said, his voice gruff. “There’ll be time for heart-to-hearts later. Our flight’s already boarding. Better pick up the pace.”

Willow never answered Lucy’s question, which meant the answer was yes. Why didn’t grown-ups ever admit to kids when they were afraid?

Lucy thought she knew why. Mama used to say, “Why should I try to explain something to you when you can’t possibly understand it, anyway? It’s grown-up stuff, and you’re a kid. If you try to be a grown-up before you’re ready, you’ll get stupid and mess everything up. So let me be the grown-up for a while longer, okay?”