Out of the Shadows. Melanie Mitchell

wrinkled her nose and sighed. “That doesn’t help me feel any better.”

      He sat beside her and gently brushed his fingers across her cheek. Despite her pregnancy, or perhaps because of it, she was beautiful. Her complexion was a little lighter than normal, enhancing her remarkable deep blue eyes. Her glossy brown hair seemed even curlier, and her skin practically glowed. He sympathized with her frustration, though, knowing that being confined the past ten days had been hard for her—she was active by nature and loathed relinquishing the care of their two-year-old daughter to anyone else.

      “Any more bleeding?”

      “Not this morning.” She brought her hand to her belly as if she could feel the baby growing. “Maybe everything is all right now. Maybe I can...”

      “Not so fast.” Brian placed his hand over hers. “The doctor said you could slowly resume normal activities—not start running a marathon—after the bleeding has stopped for at least twenty-four hours.”

      She slumped back on the pillows and frowned again. “I know.”

      “Honey,” he said, forcibly upbeat, “you’re only ten weeks along. Give the baby a chance to get stronger. Then there will be less chance of a miscarriage.”

      “Thank you, Dr. Carpenter.” Although her tone was mildly sarcastic, she smiled at him. “You’re right, of course. It’s worth it.” Leslie adjusted the lightweight quilt to cover her legs. “I just hate being useless.”

      Sensing that the worst of the current minicrisis had passed, Brian changed the subject. “You’re sure your mom can pick Emma up from day care?”

      “Yes, positive. The only reason you have to take her this morning is because Mom has a dental appointment.”

      “Good. I won’t worry about leaving early to come home.” He squeezed her hand. “Can I get you something to eat?”

      Leslie shook her head. “No. Thanks.” Her smile turned to a grimace. “Right now the thought of food makes me gag.”

      Brian stood. “Okay, I can’t make you.” He snagged his car keys from the dresser and shoved them in his pocket. Glancing at her from the foot of the bed, he said, “Now, about supper...”

      “I’ll talk to Mom. She may have planned to fix something.” Leslie flashed a wry smile. “She’ll disown us if we give Emma any more junk food. I’ll call you this afternoon and let you know. Okay?”

      Brian nodded and walked back to her. He leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. “We’d better be off. My first patient is scheduled for eight-thirty, and I need to run by the hospital to make rounds before that. Emma,” he called at the door. “Come kiss Mommy goodbye.”

      In seconds, the towheaded little girl came bouncing into the room, dressed in denim overalls and a red T-shirt. Although Leslie had combed her hair earlier that morning, it was already falling into disarray. She repositioned Emma’s barrette before kissing her head.

      “Be good at school, and remember that Nina will pick you up about lunchtime.” The toddler nodded and giggled.

      “All right, baby,” Brian interrupted. “Let’s go. Hop in your car seat, and I’ll buckle you in.” Leslie gave Emma another peck on the cheek, and the toddler ran out of the room, heading for the kitchen door leading to the garage. Brian leaned over and kissed his wife again. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

      Leslie pointed to her laptop and the pile of books beside the bed. “No, thanks. I’ve got plenty to do. I need to grade some papers and read a little. I’ll be able to stay sane for a while.”

      He grinned. “I love you. Call me later.”

      “I love you, too.” She blew him a kiss.

      * * *

      BY TEN O’CLOCK Leslie was bored. Since she was allowed to go to the bathroom and take occasional trips to the kitchen, she fetched a glass of lemonade and was headed back upstairs when the doorbell rang.

      She frowned. It was rare for anyone to come to the house during the day. In keeping with the directives of her obstetrician, she slowly walked to the front door. Peering through the peephole, she saw two uniformed police officers accompanied by a man in a dark suit.

      Police? Her thoughts raced, and her heart rate rose. Her hand was trembling slightly when she opened the door.

      The expressions on the faces of the three men accentuated her fear. One of the uniformed officers spoke. “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Hunton, from the Dallas Police Department. Are you Mrs. Carpenter?” His voice was slightly tremulous.

      Leslie felt the blood leave her face. She gave a tiny nod.

      The man in the suit said, “Mrs. Carpenter, I’m Jerry Zeiger, one of the chaplains for the DPD. Can we come in?”

      Leslie’s legs were wobbling so badly she barely managed to step aside to let the men in. The chaplain took her arm and led her into the living room. “Please sit down, ma’am.”

      She glanced toward the two uniformed officers, who remained standing just inside the door. Neither looked at her. Her hand was visibly shaking now as she reached out to move a cushion before sitting on the edge of the sofa.

      * * *

      THE CHAPLAIN SAT beside her and took her hand in his; hers was icy. He had to force himself to look at her directly. “I’m so sorry,” he said in the quiet, calm tone common among clergymen. “We have some bad news.... There was an accident. A delivery truck ran a red light and collided...” He paused and watched the young woman with growing concern. At that moment, he actively hated his job. He sighed, then said, “Ma’am, your husband’s car was hit and he was killed instantly.”

      Leslie shook her head from side to side. She swallowed twice before she managed to whisper, “Emma?”

      The chaplain held on to her hand, trying to give even a small amount of support. He no longer looked at her directly; instead, he stared at their hands. “Mrs. Carpenter, I am so sorry, but the little girl was killed, too.”

      Even though he was expecting it, Zeiger was still affected by the wrenching sound of her sob. Pulling away from him, the young woman doubled over and buried her head in her hands. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew she would find little solace for a long, long time. And he understood too well that she’d never forget this moment. She would never totally recover.

      * * *

      THAT NIGHT, SHE lost the baby.

      CHAPTER ONE

      THE FIRST THING Leslie Carpenter noticed as she stepped off the British Airways jet in Nairobi was the smell. It was earthy, rich with the scents of soil, manure, tropical flowers and sweat. After being confined in the stuffy, crowded 747 for more than ten hours, she welcomed it.

      Leslie shouldered her large canvas tote and joined the slow line of passengers. She was struck by the odd mix of people carrying loose clothing, bags, sacks, briefcases and children as they made their way down the corridor into the terminal. Most were African, with a significant number of white and Asian faces in the crowd. These, she surmised, were tourists or expatriates, although a smattering appeared to be businesspeople.

      As she headed toward the immigration officials working at glass-enclosed desks, Leslie noticed soldiers scattered throughout the processing area. They were dressed in camouflage fatigues and carried wicked-looking machine guns. She could see at least three from her location in the passport control line, and their presence reminded her of the acts of terror that were relatively common in Eastern Africa. She took a deep breath and told herself the situation had calmed in recent months.

      After getting her passport stamped, she followed the crowd to the baggage-claim area. The conveyer belt was already laden with suitcases, boxes, foam containers wrapped with duct tape, duffels and even heavy black garbage bags. Various emotions tugged at her as she watched the