"Get away. I'll toss the kid over." Bean was suddenly thrust into space, and the murderer barely holding on. Even with the tape over the child's mouth Beauvoir could hear the scream.
Then lights flashed inside and out and our house went dark but not quiet. Rain and winds pounded the roof while I searched for my cell phone. At last I felt my phone and flashed a glimmer of light into the air. The dog bounced and whined in fear of the storm. Finding flashlights, I placed them in various rooms.
The book had dropped to the floor in the excitement. I really wanted to know the name of the murder. I'm not beyond cheating on a book to find out who done it. Taking a deep breath in frustration and exhaustion, I declined to cheat and savour the moment the next morning. I crawled into bed and said goodnight world. Nearly four hours later the lights awoke us, I stared at the book and wisely returned to bed.
Telling Jack the story the next day made us both laugh. Such timing for the plot and the real storm to come together. Yet, I discovered in life that things occur that you simply can't explain.
It's been a summer filled with opportunities to meet new friends, to travel, spend time with friends from years past, to find peace in my heart as we approach a date marking eighteen years since I last hugged my parents, and a time to inwardly touch my mother's heart and say thank you, Helen, for saving Katy's life when a car ran the intersection and T-boned her. Like a character in the book A Rule Against Murder, I've learned to count my blessings each day, and say Thank You.
