Death Benefits

Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.

Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.

She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.

“Sissy?”

Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.

There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.

She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.

Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.

Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stank.

“Did you have another bad dream?”

“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.

“Was it about Mama again?”

Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?

Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”

Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“But we never got up early on New Year’s Day to catch a plane to Hawaii when Mama was alive.”

Brittany sighed. “No.”

“You’ll want to be awake for the airplane ride, so go back to sleep.” They’d never flown.

“I don’t know if I can sleep now. You scared me awake.” Still, she yawned.

Lucy felt Brittany’s teddy bear Chuckles being squeezed between them, his soft fur comforting as it had always been when they were alone at home, when Mom had been out somewhere in the night.

Lucy rubbed Brittany’s head with gentle strokes and waited until her breathing grew deeper. Even when Brittany said she couldn’t sleep, she always did.

“A dream,” Lucy whispered to herself, remembering the angry face of her mother. “She’s dead. It’s okay now. She’s dead.” And then she cried, hating herself for saying that.

Willow Traynor was going to become their new mother next week. She wouldn’t do the things Mama did, because she’d never done them.

Willow didn’t look anything like Mama—Mama was pretty—but Willow was gentle, and when she spent time with Lucy and Brittany, it was as if she really wanted to be with them. She never yelled, and she hugged them a lot. She didn’t take drugs, and she never slapped them. Willow made Lucy feel special.

As soon as Graham and Willow got married and everyone got home from the honeymoon, then Willow would move in here with Lucy and Brittany and Graham. Then, the week after that, the adoption would be final, and they would be a family.

Graham and Willow were going to be the most wonderful mother and father in the world. Lucy knew she could learn to feel safe with them.

She glanced across the room and barely saw the outline of Brittany’s bed, the pile of blankets looking like a jumble of little hills in the moonlight.

Brittany had her own bedroom in this house, but even after all these months, Lucy and Brittany wanted to stay together. The same people who said Lucy was too mature for an eight-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t believe Brittany was almost six. She was small for her age.

Light came in under the door, and it was brighter than the night-light, so that meant someone was up.

The surface of the lake, down the hill from the big log house where they lived, reflected lights from the boys’ ranch on the other shore, where Blaze Farmer lived.

Lucy loved Blaze. When she grew up, she was going to marry him.

On any other night, if the lights were on at the ranch, it meant that it wasn’t midnight yet. The boys all had to be in bed by eleven, even Blaze, who helped with the younger boys when he wasn’t working at the clinic or in college. Tonight, all the boys got to stay up late because of New Year’s Eve.

Lucy realized, since she’d heard no footsteps rushing down the hallway, that her cries from the nightmare hadn’t been loud enough to be heard through the house. Sometimes, she screamed loud enough to wake Aunt Ginger or Graham. Then Aunt Ginger would place Brittany in bed with Lucy, and spend the rest of the night in Brittany’s bed. She’d done that a few times since Mama died last spring.

Aunt Ginger said Lucy had never had the chance to be a child, and that she should learn to be one now. Lucy didn’t know what she meant.

Sometimes, when Lucy woke up from a bad dream and couldn’t stop shaking, she’d creep down the dim corridor to Aunt Ginger’s room. She never made any noise, but sat on the floor in the corner, listening to Ginger breathing…sometimes snuggling into the clothes Ginger’d tossed off when she changed into her pajamas. The smell of Aunt Ginger made her feel safe.

Lucy would miss Aunt Ginger when she moved out.

Tonight wasn’t a good night to wake her up, but if someone was already up anyway…

With slow, careful movements, Lucy pushed the covers back and slid to the floor. Had to be quiet. Brittany shouldn’t wake up again. If she did, she might never get back to sleep.

Lucy opened the door, holding her breath. No sound came from the bed. She crept out into the hallway, but the telephone rang in the front room. She stopped, startled, then glanced back at her sister. No movement.

Who could be calling at this time of night?

Ginger Carpenter reached for the cordless phone beside her chair in the great room of her brother’s lodge—that was how she would have to think of it from now on. No longer home. This would be her last night here.

Curious about who might be calling to wish them Happy New Year, she gave one final, longing glance toward the glow of the full winter moon over the lake.

She would miss this place. After the wedding in Hawaii, Ginger would move into Willow’s condo off Lakeshore Drive. It was situated in a nice area, but it wouldn’t have what Graham’s roomy log house had—two little girls who had taken up so much of her time…and her heart…for the past nine months.

She answered the phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was blocked. “Yes.”

“Ginger Carpenter, that you?” came a deep, gravelly voice that she was too tired to recognize.

“That’s right.”

“Larry Bager here.”