Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(10)
Author: A.L. Jackson

My face lit up in a smile. It was here I found my joy. It was a joy that erased every painful memory of the day.

Here I couldn’t remember the ache in my heart or the sadness that washed over me in the quiet of my car. Here I was happy.

I smiled and waved as I walked down the driveway.

Before I could reach them, the back passenger door flew open, and Lizzie shot out, throwing her arms up in the air. The child’s face glowed happiness as she ran barefoot up the drive, her blue eyes flashing excitement.

“Mommy!”

I scooped her up. “Hi, baby girl.” I clung to her, kissing the soft apple of her cheek, finding relief in the weight of my daughter in my arms.

Being away from her for so long during the day was nearly unbearable.

Lizzie snuggled in closer, her tiny fingers gripping the back of my neck through my hair. Drawing her nearer, I breathed her in.

I was certain no one had ever loved a child as much as I loved mine.

I pulled back to see my daughter’s perfect face, my voice soft as I spoke. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“Oh, Momma, I had so much fun.” Lizzie leaned away, pul ing her arms from my neck so she could express her story with her hands. “It was B day at school today, and then we sang a bee song ‘cause it starts with the letter B and . ..”

I grinned at my daughter, my face bursting with the force of my smile. The sound of her voice made my heart soar, my chest fil ed with affection as Lizzie relayed a play-by-play of her day. I was in awe of how smart my daughter was, how intuitive, how perceptive she was of the things around her.

“Then we colored pictures, and I made one for you and Auntie Natalie and Uncle Maffew,” Lizzie prattled on with excitement and distinct preschooler pride.

“That sounds like so much fun, Lizzie. I can’t wait to see the pictures you colored,” I cooed at my child. “So, were you a good girl for Auntie Natalie after she picked you up today?”

As if I real y needed to ask—I couldn’t remember a time when my daughter had misbehaved.

“Mommy”—Lizzie’s voice turned very grown up, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing—“I’m always a good girl.”

“Yes you are, aren’t you?” I sang as I nuzzled my nose into Lizzie’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter.

“Stop, Mommy! No tickles!”

Laughing, I leaned over to place my daughter on the ground, but not before Lizzie looked up to me, her face in near wonder. “And I saw a nice man today, Momma.” Confused, I looked to Natalie for clarification, wondering what on earth my daughter was talking about.

Natalie grimaced with Lizzie’s words, but mouthed later, obviously wishing not to discuss it in front of her.

It left me feeling uneasy, but I shrugged it off, assuming it couldn’t have been anything major since I hadn’t received a call from Natalie.

Natalie and I unloaded the groceries from the car with Lizzie in tow.

I fol owed them into the living room of my modest house, a feeling of satisfaction coming over me. I still was unable to believe I final y had my own place. The comfortable brown suede couch sat in the middle of the room, facing the television, the beige carpet in between littered with toys and pil ows. This was by far my favorite room. It was a rare day Lizzie and I weren’t on the floor, playing toys or sitting on the couch reading a book.

Lizzie skipped along in front of us on the pathway between the back of the couch and the stairs on the way to the kitchen, humming the song she’d learned earlier in the day.

As we piled grocery bags atop the faux-granite countertops, I couldn’t help but notice the way my cousin’s hands trembled, her jaw held rigid. It was completely out of character for someone so laid-back.

Digging blindly into a bag, I started putting away groceries while I observed Natalie, final y becoming too impatient to wait for her to offer an explanation.

“What’s going on with you today?” I demanded, my tone low and concerned.

Natalie glanced over at Lizzie, who sat at the kitchen table coloring, before she looked back at me.

“There was just this guy who freaked me out at the grocery store.” She tried to play it off with a shrug, but the grimace on her face revealed her alarm; her voice was little more than a whisper as she attempted to hide our conversation from Lizzie.

With my brow creased and head tilted to the side, I tried to read on her face. “What do you mean?”

“He just . . .”—Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if it were painful for her to recal the event—“. . . kept staring at Lizzie.” She opened her eyes, meeting mine. “The most disturbing part of it was Lizzie seemed to be just as interested in him as he was with her .. . it was just . . . so . . . weird.” Natalie hesitated before she settled on the word as if she were unable to find another way to describe the interaction.

My daughter’s words from earlier came to me, the ones about seeing a nice man. I was going to need to have another talk with her later about the dangers of talking to strangers. Right then, though, I was after details, unsure if this was real y something I needed to be concerned about.

While Natalie’s intentions were always good, she had the tendency to exaggerate.

“What did he do that made you so uncomfortable?”

“Wel . . .” Natalie breathed heavily through her nose,

“Wel . . .” Natalie breathed heavily through her nose, turned back to the groceries, and resumed the task as she spoke. “I was picking out apples, and when I turned around, they were just staring at each other.”

That sounded weird just like Natalie had said. Chewing on my lip, I tried to keep the panic wel ing up in me at bay, focusing on listening to Natalie while I set two boxes of Lizzie’s favorite cereal into the cupboard.

“Then it was like every aisle I went down, he was there, and I was sure he already had things from those aisles in his cart. It really felt like he was fol owing us. The scary thing was Lizzie kept asking me to slow down so she could talk to him. When I asked her if she knew him, she said she thought so; but when I asked from where, she said she didn’t know.”

My skin prickled with goose bumps as chill s ran down my spine. I looked over my shoulder, just needing to confirm that my daughter was there. Lizzie was still coloring and quietly humming to herself—safe. I said a silent prayer of thanks, before turning back to the bags in front of me.

“What a creep,” I muttered under my breath.