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  “But that’s what you are to her. You’ve been in her life longer than you haven’t. You’ve been a better father to that kid than her own’s ever been.” Marian kissed him, slow and sweet and with a promise of more for later.

  About five minutes after Dean left the kitchen for the bedroom, Briella appeared in the doorway. “I’m hungry now.”

  “I have tomato soup and a grilled cheese.” Marian turned from the counter, where she was doctoring the heel of the bread loaf to make the sandwich. Nobody in the house liked the heel, including her, but it was the last of the bread and she still hadn’t made it to the store.

  “I don’t want grilled cheese. Can’t I have the ice cream now?”

  Marian shook her head. “We don’t have any here. That’s why I asked if you wanted to stop on the way home.”

  Briella’s sigh was so long and loud it lifted her shoulders. She buried her face in her hands. She looked so distraught that Marian went to her at once to put a hand on the back of her neck.

  “Bean. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to me about what happened? Was it…” Marian cleared her throat and pulled the chair out next to her daughter’s. She braced herself for bad news. “Did someone push you off the monkey bars?”

  “No. I fell all by myself. But they laughed.” Briella looked up then. “Pamela said I was being stupid, because I was trying to show them how birds do it. I mean, I know I can’t really fly like a bird, Mama. I’m not stupid.”

  “No. You’re definitely not.” Marian pushed the hair off Briella’s forehead and wondered if she ought to take off the bandage. The gauze looked even whiter against the sandy tones of Briella’s skin. The small red spot on the bandage had turned brown. “You’re very, very smart. And sometimes, other people who aren’t as smart don’t like that. So they laugh or make fun.”

  “You don’t, and you’re not as smart as I am.”

  Marian’s eyebrows rose, and she pressed her lips together for a moment before answering. “That might be true, Bean, but it’s not really nice to say so. And if that’s what you say to the other kids…”

  “Yeah, I know. Nobody likes a smartypants.” Briella muttered something else under her breath, too low for Marian to hear.

  “What?”

  “I said, Dean’s not smarter than me, either. And he’s not my dad. I heard you say he was a good dad. But he’s just a step. Not a real one.”

  “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, Briella.”

  “Daddy loves me,” she said in the stubborn tone that grated on Marian’s nerves worse than the scratch of teeth on a fork.

  “It’s not a bad thing to have lots of people in your life who love you,” Marian said. “You love more people than just Daddy, don’t you? You love Grandpa and me and Dean and Auntie Theresa and Uncle Desmond and Dilly and Caitlin, right?”

  “I love my family.”

  “Dean is your family, Briella. You’ll hurt his feelings a lot if you don’t think so,” Marian said and added after a pause, “and you’ll hurt mine, too.”

  Briella frowned and crossed her arms, but didn’t make any other protests. She slid into the chair at the kitchen table and slumped with her chin in her hands. She huffed a loud, dramatic sigh.

  “Do you want some baby aspirin for your head?” Marian asked.

  “No. It feels better. Ice cream would make it even better, though.” Briella gave Marian an adorable grin, all sunshine, the grumpiness of literally only moments before vanishing.

  Marian pressed her lips together, but didn’t scold. Truth was, the idea of the soup and sandwich didn’t thrill her, either. Besides, the kid had fallen off the freaking monkey bars. She deserved at least a little treat.

  Marian hugged her kid. “All right. Let’s go get some.”

  Chapter Four

  Using her credit card at the grocery store was not a habit Marian wanted to get into, but she’d be able to pay off the bill with Dean’s next check, and the bare cupboards had depressed her. At home, she sent Briella out back to play along with the last of her ice cream cone, so she could put the groceries away. It didn’t take long, since she hadn’t fully stocked up. What stopped her, though, was when she looked out the window over the kitchen sink to make sure Briella was still all right.

  The backyard was empty.

  Irritated now but not yet worried, Marian went to the front door to look out. Briella stood on the sidewalk, the last of her cone in her raised hand. She giggled wildly as the bird from earlier made swooping passes at it. It had to be the same one, right? Marian couldn’t remember ever seeing a single raven that size, much less more than one.

  Marian went out onto the concrete front porch. “Don’t do that, Briella!”

  “Mama, he likes it.” Briella squealed as the raven again dived at her hand, laughing aloud as it nipped the cone from her fingertips. “Yowch!”

  Marian was down the front porch steps and crossing the tiny front yard in a heartbeat. “Did he peck you? Birds are dirty. Let me see.”

  “Human mouths are dirtier than a bird’s mouth,” Briella said but allowed Marian to take her hand and inspect it. “And you kiss me with yours.”

  Marian stopped to stare at her daughter with a frown. If she’d spoken to her own mother that way, Mom would have done more than give her an irritated look. People didn’t spank anymore, though. New age parenting.

  “And you can watch yours, Briella. You’ve had a rough day, but that’s not a reason to get an attitude.”

  “Sorry,” Briella muttered insincerely.

  “Come inside, now.”

  “I want to play with Onyx.” Briella gestured at the raven, which had settled in the middle of the sidewalk across the street with its prize. The cone fragmented on the pavement, and the bird pecked it swiftly.

  The bird looked up, tilting its head like it was staring at them. Marian pressed her lips together in distaste. The late afternoon sun slanting off the inky wings made them look somehow oily. Ravens were bad luck, she thought. Weren’t they?

  “Here, Onyx! Here!”

  “Don’t do that,” Marian scolded.

  From the end of the lane came the familiar rumble of the pickup truck belonging to Hank Simpson, who lived next door. His was the last house on the cul-de-sac, and his property also backed up onto the edges of what eventually became state game lands. He liked to drink too much and drive too fast on this otherwise quiet street. He kept to himself except when he was complaining about his neighbor’s grass being too long, or the kids who took the path along the edge of his property to get to the small frog pond beyond in the woods.

  He was driving too fast now, one beefy arm hanging out the window. Even at this distance, Marian could see the glare of the dropping sun on his windshield. He had to be half-blinded by it, and instinctively, she grabbed Briella’s sleeve as though the girl might tear off and run straight for the road.

  “Here, Onyx, c’mere!”

  Marian shook Briella’s arm. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  The bird squawked and jerked its head back, swallowing the last of the ice cream cone. It took several exploratory flaps of its wings and began to rise into the air. Incredibly, it started toward them – right into the path of Hank’s truck.

  Briella shrieked and yanked her arm loose. “Onyx!”

  Marian swiped for her daughter’s sleeve, but missed. The girl was already on the sidewalk. The bird cawed as the truck bore down on them.

  “The bird will fly away, Briella, don’t – Oh my God. Oh my God.…” Marian, breathless with terror, stumbled after her daughter.

  At the last minute, before Briella could step off the sidewalk and into the street, the bird swooped. It dove at her, driving her back with flapping wings and screams. Briella tripped and fell, blessedly backward and not into the street. The raven whirled. The truck’s side mirror clipped the bird