Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(26)

Casey sniffled, and as Lydia scooted down in the bed, Casey pressed her head against Lydia’s shoulder.

In an effort to comfort her daughter, Lydia softly hummed the hymn “Amazing Grace.” Soon Casey’s own emotionally wobbly hum joined hers. A couple of times the young teen shuddered a sigh.

It took a long time, but gradually Lydia felt Casey’s tight grip on her loosen. Without being able to view the clock, she speculated that it took more than an hour for Casey to return to sleep.

As quietly and gently as she could, Lydia slipped out of bed and returned to her own. She fully expected Brad to be asleep. He wasn’t. He lifted the covers for her to return next to him in their queen-size bed.

Lydia scooted close to her husband, and he wrapped his arm around her middle, bringing her close to his side.

“Is Casey asleep?”

She nodded. “Finally. It took a long time to quiet her. She wouldn’t tell me about the dream.”

“Can you blame her?” Brad asked, his head close to her ear. “Whatever it was terrified the poor kid. Telling you would be reliving the dream all over again.”

“I think it might help her to talk about it—maybe not right away, though, when it’s still fresh in her mind. I’ll ask her again in the morning.” This wasn’t the first time Casey had woken them crying out in the night. This nightmare, whatever it was, seemed to be a reoccurring one. When they’d first adopted her at age twelve, Casey had had bad dreams. None seemed as bad as this one, however. It’d taken far longer to comfort her this time than ever before; she’d been terrified and shaking uncontrollably.

“You weren’t able to get back to sleep?” Lydia whispered. Saturday was her husband’s one day to sleep in, and Casey’s nightmare had interrupted that for Brad.

“Adrenaline kicked in when I heard Casey scream. I didn’t know what to think.”

“It shocked me, too.”

“We should have expected this,” Brad said, and yawned. He covered his mouth and then stretched.

“The nightmares?”

“That and a whole lot more. The poor girl came to us with a full set of baggage. Abandoned by her birth parents, then living in a series of foster homes. Learning her brother was in jail. By age twelve Casey had seen more drama and heartache than most people do in a lifetime.”

Lydia agreed. “She’s adjusted so well it’s sometimes difficult to remember she’s been through so much,” she said and sighed. “Even now she’s afraid we’re going to send her away.”

“Did she ask you about it?”

Lydia nodded. “This is the first time in her life that she’s had a stable home life, or been part of a family. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. She’s been taken away from every home where she’s ever lived.” Lydia’s one concern for her daughter was linked with her mother. Mary Lou grew weaker physically and mentally every month. Lydia didn’t know how much longer they would have her mother. Seeing how close Casey was to her grandmother, Lydia couldn’t help worrying what would happen when she died.

“What are you fretting about now?” Brad asked.

Lydia smiled. How well her husband knew her. “Casey and Mom. I don’t like to think how Casey will react once we lose her.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,” her husband wisely advised.

Thankfully, they did manage to fall back asleep. Lydia woke just before eight to find she was alone in bed. Stretching her arms above her head, Lydia smiled as she heard her husband talking to the kids in the kitchen.

Brad had pancakes on the griddle and coffee made by the time Lydia wandered out of the bedroom, yawning. Cody sat at the table, stuffing himself with a large stack swimming in a plate of syrup. Casey sat across from him with a single pancake on her plate but showed little appetite.

“Morning,” Lydia said, and kissed Cody’s cheek first and then Casey’s. “You feel all right this morning?” she asked her daughter, her hands on Casey’s shoulders.

Casey shrugged.

“You screamed like a banshee,” Cody said. “It scared the living crap out of me.”

Casey made a face at her brother. “Get over it.”

“Kids, enough,” Brad said, cutting off any chance of this exchange developing into a full-blown argument.

Brad had her coffee poured, and Lydia hugged her husband’s middle in an effort to thank him. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“And all it took was a single cup of coffee,” he teased, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Breakfast?” he asked.

Lydia shook her head. She wasn’t one for a big breakfast. Toast and a glass of orange juice were the most she ever ate. Lydia was slight and slender, and had never been a big eater. Two bouts with cancer, the first in her teen years, and the second in her early twenties, might have had something to do with her attitude toward food. Before she was married and a mother, Lydia could easily skip meals simply because she’d forgotten it was mealtime.

Brad set the dirty dishes in the sink. “Come on, Cody, we need to hustle to your game.”

Cody wolfed down one last bite of his breakfast and scooted back his chair. He was as tall as Lydia now, and it wouldn’t be much longer before he shot past her. “You coming to the game, Mom?”