Page 24 of North

FOUR

Selah surfaced from sleep to the sound of Amy whimpering. Watery morning light filtered through the motel’s thin curtains, casting shadows on the girl curled in the other double bed, her new teddy bear clutched to her chest.

“Mommy?” Amy’s voice trembled.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Selah eased out of bed, ignoring how her bruised body protested. The wood floor cooled her bare feet as she crossed to Amy’s bed. “Bad dream?”

Tommy stirred next to her, his casted wrist propped on his chest. Poor kid had woken around 3:00 a.m. needing more pain medicine. She’d followed the instructions, administered the pain relief, then sat by him and sang to him until he fell into a deep sleep.

They needed their parents. Or at least their grandparents.

“I want my mommy.” Amy’s fingers dug into the teddy bear’s fur.

“I know, honey.” Selah smoothed the girl’s tangled hair. “I’ll see if I can use the motel phone and call your mom. And we’ll get you to your grandparents as soon as we can, I promise.”

“I dreamed about the train. It was scary.”

“I know.” Selah kept her voice steady, pushing away memories of flames, of screaming, of that horrible moment when the train had lurched and everything had gone sideways. “But you’re safe now.”

The motel room bore the stamps of a budget makeover—white side tables, Ikea art, a round table with molded chairs. But it was safe. Dry. Clean. A bastion in a storm. And paid for by James. So maybe she should stop worrying about last night’s news report about the stolen truck that sat in the parking lot.

Wrong truck. Wrong farmer. Everything was fine.

“I’m hungry.” Tommy sat up, wincing as he jostled his wrist. She’d found out last night that he was ten, little Amy seven. Tommy was trying so hard to be brave, to take care of his little sister.

A knock at the door made them all jump.

“Just me.” James’s voice came through the thin door. “Thought you might be ready for breakfast.”

Selah checked through the peephole—habit ingrained from too many hostile countries. He stood in the weak morning sun, looking remarkably put together for someone who’d survived a train crash.

“There’s a diner down the street,” he said when she opened the door. “And then we should return Mr. Anderson’s truck. Poor man’s probably worried sick.”

Right. See? The news often got it wrong.

“Miss Selah?” Amy clutched her bear. “Can Teddy come to breakfast?”

“Of course he can.” Selah helped the girl find her shoes. “Tommy, do you need help with your sweatshirt?”

The boy shook his head, but she saw him struggle as he tried to pull it on, his casted wrist making everything awkward.

James stepped up to help him. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said and held out a fist.

Tommy bumped it, gave him a smile. James smiled back.

Twenty minutes later, they pushed through the door of the Paradise Café. Bells jingled overhead, and the smell of coffee and bacon wheedled inside and found Selah’s bones. Oh, she hadn’t realized the depths of her hunger. The vinyl booths had seen better days, and the linoleum floor bore scuff marks from decades of work boots, but the griddle heat had fogged the windows, and the whole place felt…safe.

“Well, what do we have here?” A waitress with steel-gray hair swept up in a bun approached, coffeepot in hand. Her name tag read Brenda, and smile lines crinkled around her eyes. “Let’s get you folks settled.”

“Can Teddy sit by the window?” Amy asked.

“Best seat in the house.” Brenda winked and slid menus onto the table. “Coffee for the grown-ups?”

James sat next to Tommy. “Large, fully leaded,” James said. He looked at Selah.

“Same.”

“And a couple of OJs for the kids.”