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The first was just a short, call me.

The second was a little more ominous. Grace has gotten herself into a bit of trouble, but I’m tracking her down. Call me.

I’m sending a deputy to pick you up, was the third.

Cheyenne snatched her purse up and grabbed her coat. “Joan, I need you to watch my class for a minute. They’re taking a short quiz and when they’re done, they can have quiet free time. Class,” she said, interrupting their concentration, “I have to run. Be good for Mrs. Hampton until the sub gets here.”

Several of them nodded and returned to their work. Joan squeezed her arm as Cheyenne passed through the door. “Go get your baby.”

Cheyenne didn’t even remember running to the front of the school and out the door. There was a deputy waiting for her, and he gave her a tense smile.

“Where is my daughter,” she asked immediately.

The deputy was young, barely out of training, and he gave her a brittle smile. “I’m supposed to take you to an address, but the sheriff didn’t say why.”

Cheyenne pulled the seat belt across her shoulder, then dug in her purse for her phone. She tried calling Sheridan, but it went straight to his voicemail. So she was forced to sit in the seat and wait for the conscientious young deputy to stop at every stop sign and slow for every turn as they headed through town. They ended up in an area she wasn’t very familiar with, lined with cute little craftsman type houses. By the time they pulled up in front of one and stopped, she was ready to scream. The deputy pointed out the house she was supposed to go to, and Cheyenne bolted up the snowy walk.

* * *

Grace had weird dreams of a man grabbing her. And falling. And her head hurt. And she thought she remembered being super cold, so cold even her down jacket didn’t protect her. It was a disturbing dream.

There was lightness coming in the room, and she didn’t remember coming inside, and when she opened her eyes, there was a strange woman leaning over top of her. Grace jerked back, realizing she was in a small bed. And she was wearing pajamas!

What the hel-heck…

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl. I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Lottie, and you fell in the ice at the duck pond. Do you remember?”

Grace blinked. “I thought that was a dream. Old Man Rochester was there, and he grabbed my arm. And he called me Hannah.”

Lottie blinked, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry about that, darling. Mr. Rochester… well, he forgets things. And he gets things confused, sometimes. Tell me how you feel.”

Grace took a breath and sat up in the bed. “My head hurts,” she said.

Lottie nodded. “Yes, I thought it might. As soon as your mother gets here, I’m going to suggest she take you for an x-ray. I was a nurse for many years, but I can’t say for sure that you don’t have a concussion.”

Oh, that was a very bad word in their house. Grace had had several concussions; falling out of the hay loft of the barn, and cracking her head on that rock in the stream last summer. Mama shook her head and scolded her and made her swear not to do it again, but Grace felt like she was blameless in this incident. No, Mama would figure out a way to blame it on her.

There was a pounding at the front door, and Lottie squeezed her arm. “Just wait here, darling.”

When she returned, the sheriff was right behind her, making the room feel suddenly small. Tears started in her eyes, and Grace swiped them away. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d been scared out of her pants there for a minute, and she’d hoped that the sheriff would be there to rescue her.

Circling Lottie, he moved to kneel next to the little bed she was on. “Are you okay, Grace?”

She nodded, trying not to cry like a little baby, but the sheriff seemed to sense that she was upset. He wrapped her in his big muscular arms and kissed the top of her head. “Ouch,” she grumbled, positioning her head against his chest and trying not to get poked with his badge and the pens sticking up from his pocket.

Chuckling, he set her back from him. “You want to tell me what you were doing?”

Grace winced, knowing that she wasn’t going to get away with skipping school. “I was worried about Mr. Rochester, and I wanted him to have some warm stuff before we went on Christmas break. I didn’t think he had a family,” she said, glancing up at Lottie from beneath her eyelashes.

The old woman was standing with her hands folded across her middle, but she smiled gently. “Thank you for thinking of him.”

She glanced back at the sheriff. “He caught me putting stuff on his bench, and when I tried to get away, he kind of grabbed my arm. He thought I was Hannah. Was that your granddaughter?”

Lottie nodded, tears filling her eyes. She pulled a tissue from her sweater pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, it was our granddaughter. I’m sorry he scared you. Arthur would never hurt a fly, but he gets confused in his mind about things. Our Hannah went missing thirty-one years ago, and he’s never forgiven himself for not finding her. You’re about the same age as Hannah when she…”

More tears dripped down Lottie’s cheeks, and Grace desperately wished that she could be Hannah for them and take away some of their pain. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words feeling so lacking.

Lottie shook her head. “It’s not your place to be sorry, young lady. This happened many, many years ago, before you were even a thought. We’ll be okay. We just have to take it a day at a time. Arthur is resting now. His walks always tire him out, and he was almost running when he brought you back, soaked with pond water. That took a lot out of him. He’ll be fine in a few hours, though. And in the morning, he’ll be up with the birds baking bread, like he always does.”