In Broken Places Read Online Free

in the crowd. With fear fueled by jet lag, I gripped the arm of the woman who had been hugging me moments before and stuttered, “Where’s . . . where’s Shayla?”
    “Whatsa mattoh, Shelby?” came Shayla’s sunny voice, a little rough around the edges from lack of sleep.
    She was right next to me, her head level with mine, her supple body completely at ease in a stranger’s arms.
    “I’m Gus Johnson,” he said amiably, extending his hand and meeting my startled gaze with a Santa Claus chuckle. “And this woman who forgot to introduce herself before she grabbed you is my lovely wife, Bev.”
    I looked from Gus to Bev, at a loss for words. “Oh . . .” I attempted a smile and expelled a tight breath. “Hi.”
    “I’m so sorry, Shelby,” Bev said, her arm coming around my shoulders in a maternal hold. “I was just so happy to see you that I forgot all my manners.” Her Southern accent had a soothing quality that threatened to unleash unexpected tears. “And this,” she continued, reaching out to flick Shayla’s nose, “must be beautiful Shayla.”
    “It is,” I said, snapping my brain into gear. “And it’s wonderful to meet you after all this time. Thank you so much for driving so far to pick us up.”
    “No trouble at all,” Bev said. “We love a good excuse to get out of town now and then.”
    Shayla, who was amazingly unfazed at being held by a strange man, smiled tiredly in Bev’s direction and settled more heavily against Gus’s chest. I blamed his appearance for her lack of concern—his graying hair, rosy cheeks, rounded belly, and sparkling eyes evoked Christmas trees and presents.
    “Say hello, Shayla,” I prompted. “This is Bev and Gus Johnson. Remember the e-mails I read to you? They’re going to help us get settled.”
    “Did you see my new house?” she asked, a yawn distorting her delicate features.
    “We sure did,” Bev answered. “I even went over there last night and put some flowers in your bedroom for you.”
    Shayla looked at me with a “she’s nice” smile, and I reached out to squeeze her arm in agreement. There was something about Bev that inspired familiarity and confidence. She had a direct gaze and an energy that made her chubby, five-foot-three frame somehow seem taller than it was. She stood there grinning at us in her patchwork vest, white turtleneck, and denim skirt, and her smile heldall the warmth and welcome of her Southern heritage. Though she’d hidden her graying hair under an artificial shade of reddish brown, she still exuded a grandmotherly charm that had made me like her on sight.
    “Looks like this little one is ready for a nap,” Gus said, plopping Shayla in the basket of our luggage cart. Her legs draped over the edge and her feet rested on the stack of suitcases. “How ’bout we head to the car and get you ladies home?” He set off toward some elevators, carrying on a warm, one-sided conversation with the small pink bundle sitting atop the cart.
    “I’m so happy you’re finally here,” Bev said as she linked arms with me and followed Gus through the crowd pressed around the customs exit. “We’ve been counting the hours. Haven’t we, Gus?”
    “Indeed we have,” he said over his shoulder, turning just long enough to wink in my direction.
    And that was the moment the enormity of it all hit home. After so many weeks of frantic preparations and adrenaline-fueled activity, I had expected the breaking point to come. And I’d imagined that something upsetting like a disappointment or confrontation or frustration or one of Shayla’s temper tantrums would set it off—but a mirthful wink from a friendly soul? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It was embarrassing and completely out of my control. As Bev ushered me out of the elevator and into the parking garage, my tears began to fall. I told myself to think positive, and still they fell. I told myself that I was making a terrible first impression, and still they