Knoxie nodded, her red curls jostling.

Cassie crooked her index finger, got down on her hands and knees again, and made a hissing noise with her mouth.

Knoxie giggled. "No, Aunt Cassie. She uses a real bogeyman spray."

Cassie peeked up over the edge of the bed. "A real spray?"

"Yes, ma'am. And it really works."

Pulling herself up again, Cassie went across the hall to the bathroom and retrieved a Lysol spray can. Returning to the little girl's bedroom, she held it aloft. "This is my own kind of bogeyman spray." She hunched down and spritzed the area under the bed thoroughly, lifting the bedspread at the foot of the bed to get an extra squirt. "Okay, sweet pea. That's guaranteed to keep away any and all nasty bogeymen."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cassie held her niece's hand, and with bowed heads, they said their good-night prayers. Cassie hid her smile at the stridency in the little girl's voice as she called for God's blessing on every person, beast, and insect Knoxie had ever met. Just as Cassie began to nod off to sleep, Knoxie's words caught her attention.

"God bless Daddy and Mama, and please take care of them on their trip. I miss them and want them to come back soon. And God bless Aunt Cassie for taking care of us, and please let her know that we love her even when she shouts at us for putting our tennis shoes in the oven to dry. Amen."

Cassie stood, not sure she could trust her voice. Leaning over, she kissed the little freckled nose and tucked the sheets tightly around the small girl and assorted stuffed animals. "Good night, sweet pea. I love you, too. And I'm sorry I shouted."

She flicked on the nightlight and let herself out of the room, careful to leave the door cracked open. Leaning against the doorframe, she closed her eyes, wishing for a moment that she could believe that the bogeyman could be held back with a household spray instead of knowing with all certainty that the bogeyman was for real. His name started with a capital C, and no amount of spray would ever make him go away.

When she opened her eyes, she spied Sam waiting for her at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister.

"You handled that well."

"Thanks." She rubbed the back of her neck, the exhaustion of taking care of five children all day finally catching up to her. She studiously avoided his eyes. "I'm pooped. I think I'll go straight to bed. Hang on a second and I'll walk you out."

She disappeared into her room and reappeared carrying her blanket and pillow, the cordless receiver of the baby monitor clutched in her hand. She headed down the stairs and felt him follow behind her.

"Where are you going with that stuff?"

She threw the blanket over her shoulder. "I'm going out to that old magnolia tree my mother planted. With all that stuff going on around here, I'd hate to have something happen to it. I mean, it's pretty old and all, so somebody should watch over it. I've already told Maddie where I'll be, so she knows where to find me if anybody needs me." She held up the baby monitor. "Plus, I'll be able to hear Amanda if she wakes."

He opened the front door, then followed her outside. She stood awkwardly, her pillow deliberately held in front of her as if to keep her and Sam physically separated. "Good night, then. And thanks for tak-ing care of Mr. Possum for us."

"You're welcome. My pleasure, as always." He tipped his imaginary hat, then slowly sauntered down the porch steps.

As he walked toward his truck, Cassie paused for a moment to admire his backside, then headed across the lawn to her mother's magnolia. Its leaves dully reflected the moonlight, making it almost glow. She propped the monitor against the trunk, then spread out her blanket and pillow. As she lay down, she spotted Sam walking across the lawn toward her, a blanket tucked under his arm.

She sat up. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you might could use some company. Plus, I've been carrying around this blanket in my truck for over a year, and I figure it's time to put it to use."

Her stomach did a belly flop. Struggling to control her voice, she said, "Well, I hadn't really thought I needed any company. But if you haven't got anything else to do, then be my guest."

He spread his blanket on the ground by her feet, allowing him to peer out at the sky.

The wind rustled the tree above them, making the leaves whisper like schoolchildren sharing secrets. The summer scents of mowed grass and jasmine drifted on the humid air, cloaking them like a blanket. Sam crossed his arms behind his head and stared upward.

"By the way, I did have a chance to check birth records while I was in Atlanta. Even with the initials from the locket, I didn't find anything that might even be a remote possibility. Of course, I'm not really surprised. I have a feeling this was all so hush-hush back then that Miss E's parents probably covered up the paper trail pretty well. The birth certificate might even show the adoptive parents as being the biological parents, and there might not be any adoption papers at all." He crooked up a leg. "It's been known to happen."

Cassie braced herself on her elbow. "Remember that ad Harriet and I took out in the paper-the one that listed my cell-phone number but not my name? I got two calls-I'm pretty sure it was the same caller- but they never said anything. Just waited for me to speak and then hung up." She sat up completely. "I know that the phone used was the one outside the Dixie Diner, and the second call came when I was sitting inside. It was almost as if the person knew I was in there and was watching me answer the phone. By the time I got outside, whoever it was had gone."

"Sounds like whoever it was wanted to check out who you were without returning the favor."

Cassie breathed deeply, smelling the sweet summer grass. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought, too." She rubbed her bare feet in the grass, the blades cool and damp on her soles. "I wish my father had trusted me with this before he died. I'm just amazed that he was willing to let this kind of secret die with him. Harriet thinks it's because Miss E is still living and he wanted to protect her still." She shrugged. "I don't really know what to do next. If he or she doesn't want to be found, then maybe I should just let it be. I have enough to worry about now, especially with Harriet . . ." She let her voice fall away and turned her head.

They were quiet for a while, watching the passing lights of a jetliner high above them. Eventually, Sam turned to face her. "Has Ed Farrell been by recently?"

Cassie nodded and turned toward him, admiring the clean cut of his profile in the moonlight. "He's brought several couples through here in the last week. But they'd heard at school about the vandalism and Maddie's bike being stolen last Monday night right off the front porch. I could tell the parents were a bit leery, and nothing I could say would make a bit of difference. One of the women actually said some-thing about the neighborhood going downhill. Can you imagine? I wanted to open a can of whoop-ass on her."

He turned his head, a smile in his voice. "A can of whoop-ass?"

She clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Lord-it's contagious."

"Sounds like you've been hanging around Ed Farrell too much." He snorted softly. "That Ed-he's like a booger you just can't thump off."

She tossed her pillow at him, hitting him in the chest. "You are such a redneck."

"Right. And saying you're going to open up a can of whoop-ass on somebody is so much more refined."

"That just slipped out. Besides, yours was disgusting."

He propped himself up on his elbows, a smirk visible on his face. "Then why are you laughing?"

She slumped back down on top of her blankets next to him, trying to ignore the heat that seemed to radiate from where he lay. "You can be so annoying, Sam Parker."

She sensed his grin in the dark as he spoke. "So that's what you call it. I always thought 'annoying' was a negative term."

A laugh crept up her throat and bubbled over into the night air. She had the most outrageous notion to move closer and kiss him. Just once.

Cassie rolled over on her stomach, propping her chin in her hands. "Give Ed a break, Sam. He's not the same bully you knew in school. He's changed-a lot. I actually kind of like him. I mean, he's still a lit-tle rough in spots, but he's seriously trying to smooth them out. I respect that in him."

Sam's eyes glittered in the moonlight as he sat up to face her. "I'd respect him a lot more if I knew where all his money came from. How did he go to college and start his business? Those are expensive ventures, and he came from nothing. There's something that's just not right there. And then there's the matter of what he's trying to do to this town-make it into one of those damned planned communities." He lay back down, his face toward the sky. "I don't for one moment believe he has anyone's best interests at heart except for his own."

Cassie opened her mouth to tell him about Ed's offer to buy her house, but Sam interrupted. His voice carried a note of urgency. "Cassie-look up."

On hands and knees she quickly crawled out from under the shelter of the leaves and looked up into the black sky. The tail end of a falling star skimmed past Orion's belt, glowed like spun gold for a brief moment, then faded into nothingness. Cassie stared up at the dwindling light, realizing how long it had been since she'd last seen a falling star and wondering where all those empty nights had gone.

"Make a wish," she whispered, remembering long-ago summer evenings spent with Harriet and their father watching the sun set, the waxing moon rise, and the stars erupt with light. "Wishing on a falling star makes it come true."

He stood next to her, his eyes glowing brightly, the moon making them shine silver. "Sometimes. I've been wishing on falling stars for a long time, and I'm still waiting."

Heat flooded her veins. "Be careful what you wish for." His warm breath stroked her cheek, an intimate caress. Looking down, she noticed his feet were bare. "I'm going to wish that Harriet gets better and everybody lives happily ever after."

He didn't say anything, so Cassie raised her head. He was studying her carefully with a slight upturn of his lips. "You're such an idealist. It's one of the things I've always loved about you."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling self-conscious. "Andrew called me a daydreamer. I think he said it was his job in life to break me of that bad habit."

"Then he failed. I'm glad."

Looking up at the sky again, she felt small and insignificant under its vastness, like a grain of sand on the beach of life. She took a deep breath, the great boundless sky somehow making her say the unspeakable, as if the atmosphere could swallow the words and take them away forever. "What if Harriet dies, Sam? How will any of us move on?"

Sam moved to stand behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She resisted the urge to rest her head on his strong fingers.

"Well, you get out of bed, you eat your grits, say hey to your neighbor, you give extra love to her children, and you live your life. The sun is a pretty stubborn guy, and he'll rise each day just to spite you. But life does go on." He squeezed her shoulders. "You survived when your mother died. I suspect you still grieve for her. I know I do for Tom. But I think you've lived your life the way your mother would have wanted you to, and you should be proud of that."

Her fingers idly tinkered with the gold charms around her neck. "No, I think she's crying with shame up in heaven. Maddie's almost fifteen, and this summer is the first time I've ever laid eyes on her. I've never sent a birthday card or baby gift in all these years." She swallowed thickly. "At least I'm here now-to help Harriet out. It's the least I can do. I don't want to think of Mama crying anymore."

He turned her around to face him, his expression earnest. "She's not crying; she's just waiting. The book isn't closed on this chapter, Cassie. Now, I'm only going to say this because I know you've already thought about it." He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "If those children are left motherless, what will you do? Visit them twice a year and send presents from New York every birthday and Christmas?"

She tried to pull away, but he held on to her. "I will not be blackmailed into staying here. And I'm not going to think about any of that now, but I do know that whatever decision I make, it will be made of my own free will. Not anybody else's, including yours, Sam Parker."

His hands clutched her tightly. When he spoke, his words were flippant, but his eyes were deadly serious. "I understand I have strong methods of persuasion."

They stood facing each other for a long moment, their breaths melding in the small space between them. The tree frogs thumped their rhythm into the night, echoing the loud beating of her heart. She could almost taste his lips, and all it would take would be an imperceptible sway in his direction. . . .

Their lips met, and she was unsure who had moved. She opened her mouth to welcome him in, and he touched her tongue with his, making her insides dissolve like flour lumps in hot gravy. Her fingers threaded through his hair, bringing him even closer, as her hips pushed against his.

His hands moved down to the back of her short skirt and slid underneath to cup her bottom. "No slip?" he asked against her mouth.

"Too hot," she breathed.

"I'll say."

She saw his raised eyebrow before he bent forward to devour her mouth again. He lifted her and laid her gently on his blanket under the tree and slowly undid each button of her blouse with painstaking care. Not willing to wait for him, she reached behind and unclasped her bra.

He bent forward and, with slow deliberation, used the tip of his tongue to trace each nipple, waiting for the small buds to harden. She bucked her hips under him, showing her impatience. The smell of damp leaves, humid earth, and her own musk filled her senses, making her lush and ripe, part of the earth and the tree and this man. Using frantic fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, losing patience with the last button when it snagged on a thread. It popped off as she pulled the shirt open to slide it off his shoulders.

His warm hands moved up her thighs and tugged at the waistband of her panties, easing them down her legs with calculated precision. She moaned, and his lips claimed hers again and heated her blood until she thought she should see steam rising from her skin. Slow fingers moved between her legs and parted the folds of flesh, rubbing with insistent pressure. She cried out with pleasure as he slipped a finger inside, nearly undoing her.

"Sam . . . please . . ." His belt buckle slipped in her fingers at her frenzied attempt to undo it and get his pants off. She thought she would drown in the desire for him that seemed to consume her, and it occurred to her that it wouldn't be such a bad way to go.

He pulled his hand away from between her legs and rose above her, his chest hairs tickling her bared breasts. His eyes flashed, and her heart seemed to skip a beat as he regarded her carefully.

"Good night, Cassie."

She let her arms fall to her side, feeling suddenly boneless. "Good night?"

He rolled to her side, his breath coming in quick gasps. "I've already told you-it's all or nothing with me. I won't make love to you without a commitment. We should never have let it get this far." He sat up and reached for his shirt.

She sat up with a jerk. "You're kidding, right?"

He slipped his shirt over his head. "I'm afraid not. But believe me, it's hurting me as much as it's hurting you."

Grabbing a handful of dirt and dead leaves, she threw them at him. "Now's a damned fine time to start acting like a southern gentleman!"

He reached over and held on to her wrist, immobilizing her. "I want you, Cassie. God knows how much. But I told you before-I won't be used. I want to be more to you than a nice roll in the hay." He released her, then sat back and raised an eyebrow. "Even if it is the best sex you've ever had."

"I was just making that up." Scrambling for her shirt and underpants, she said, "Besides, you started it."

"I did not."

She pulled on her clothes and faced him. "Did, too."

"Did not."

She threw her pillow at him. "I can't believe you-you're such a child. I'm leaving." She gathered up her blanket and turned to go, mindless of the clinging leaves and twigs. Pausing for a moment, she faced him, a concerned expression on her face. "Are you going to stay and watch my tree?"

He leaned on an elbow, looking up at her and grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, I'll watch your tree for you."

"Thank you." She turned around and stomped across the lawn. On the bottom front porch step she called back, "I'll bring you your breakfast in the morning."

Quietly, she let herself into the house and crept up the stairs, dumping the blanket and pillow in the upstairs hallway. Then she checked on all the sleeping children, taking comfort in the soft rhythm of their breathing. Amanda had kicked off her blanket, so Cassie gently tucked it around her small body. As she left the room, she caught sight of the baby monitor on the dresser. Realizing she'd left the receiving end still under the magnolia tree, she tiptoed over to it, leaned into the speak-er, and whispered loudly, "Did, too."

Smiling with satisfaction, she let herself out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Twenty.

Cassie struggled with the covered casserole dish and umbrella, the enticing aroma of fried okra making her stomach rumble. Joey, wearing a yellow rain slicker and matching boots, sloshed behind her. He held Mrs. Crandall's cake plate with Cassie's first pineapple upside-down cake perched on top and covered with plastic wrap.

A car horn honked, and they both stopped and watched as Sam pulled up alongside the curb. "Lucinda called and said y'all might need a ride."

"We're fine." Cassie continued walking, lowering the umbrella to keep the wind from blowing the rain in her eyes.

"Aunt Cassie!" wailed Joey. "This cake's heavy, and it's getting wet! Can't we have Dr. Parker drive us?"

Cassie stopped for a moment and eyed her waterlogged nephew, his brown freckles stark against the whiteness of his skin. "I'm sure Dr. Parker has other things to do, Joey. We're almost there, anyway."

Sam hopped out of his truck and took the cake plate from Joey. "Get in the truck, big guy, and I'll put this on your lap."

Cassie resisted when he tried to take the fried okra out of her hands. "Don't you have better things to do? Like rescue a house or lance a boil?"

He wrested the casserole dish away from her. "Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid. It was slow at the clinic, and I had to pick up supplies for the office, anyway." He held the door open for Cassie. "And what's this about Lucinda's car?"

She waited until he had seated himself inside the truck before answering. "Somebody slashed her tires last night, and it was parked right in front of the house. I heard Johnny Ladue's motorcycle suffered the same fate. I hate to admit it, but all this vandalism is starting to get to me. And with the way everybody's talking about it, I'll never sell the house."

Sam reached over and lowered the volume on the radio. "Who do you think's responsible?"

"Sheriff Adams asked me the same thing. Besides you, the most likely culprit would be the Roust people."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Besides me?"