Free Divine by Karen Kingsbury Page A

the sofa and ran toward her, arms open wide. "Mommy!"
    Behind her, Kaitlyn eased herself down and came running too.
    The older woman smiled and set the book down. "1 have some paperwork in my office. You three look like you'll be just fine without me," she said before she quietly left.
    Emma immediately dropped to her knees. The girls came to her, and she pulled them in close to her chest. Her precious daughters. How could she overdose and leave them alone, without their mommy? The voices were wrong. Her girls needed her. A chill passed over her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea. She'd come so close. If Mary hadn't said something at the end, she might be buying the drugs right now.
    Kami pulled back enough so they could see each other. "We missed you, Mommy. Where have you been?"
    "Talking to a nice lady." Emma's words stuck in her throat. Looking into Kami's eyes was like looking into Mary's, the way they must've looked when Mary was a little girl. Not that they shared any physical resemblance, but there were innocence and trust in her daughter's eyes that must've been in Mary's at one time.
    Until she had been kidnapped and locked in that basement.
    Without warning, tears flooded her eyes and spilled onto her face. What sort of life had she made for her girls? At every turn she'd gone against her mother's wishes. Gone against God. In the process she'd exposed her girls to violent abuse and drugs.
    She buried her face against them as her sobs came in waves. How many nights had she been so high that she didn't feed them dinner? And how many of Charlie's friends had been around them, holding them and teasing them? It was a miracle something hadn't already happened to them.
    "Mommy—" Kaitlyn stroked her hair and dabbed her fingertips against Emma's face—"why sad?"
    Kami took a turn, brushing her soft knuckles against Emma's cheeks. "Mommy's having a hard day."
    Mommy's having a hard day were words she'd told her girls hundreds of times. Mommy can't make breakfast. . . . Mommy can't take you for a walk. . . . Mommy can't see out of her right eye. . . . Mommy can't lift you up. . . .
    Because she was too wasted on drugs or too exhausted from all she'd consumed the day before or too beaten up to be the mother they needed. And always she said the same thing: "Mommy's having a hard day." Her girls must've heard that nearly every day of their lives.
    She pushed her sobs down to the deepest part of her heart, the part that never stopped crying. "Girls . . . Mommy's sorry."
    Neither girl said anything, but Kami patted her head and kissed the tip of her nose. Kaitlyn drew closer, her head on Emma's shoulder.
    They were the sweetest girls. If she hadn't come to the shelter, she might've lost them by now. Maybe she would've taken enough junk that she lost track of the girls. They could've been kidnapped or sold into slavery. Anything was possible. "God . . ." His name was a cry, a quiet moan on her lips. I m sorry.
    The girls sensed somehow that this was different than any other time their mother had been upset before. They clung to her, and Kami started to whimper. Emma closed her eyes and savored the feel of her precious daughters in her arms. What if she'd lost them? What if she'd killed herself the way she'd planned to do? She would never have had a moment like this again. Instead here she was, and suddenly the sorrow and fear and heartbreak that represented her life cleared long enough for her to feel one very real, very clear emotion.
    Gratitude.
    However it had happened, she was here. Despite her fear and the fact that every inch of her body screamed for a fix, she was here. She had her girls and her life and her hope because Mary had more of the story to tell. What was it Mary had said? Her story wasn't finished, and neither was Emma's.
    Finally as she dried her tears and kissed her girls' cheeks, as she took their little hands in hers and led them to the craft table, she was overwhelmed by one single possibility.
    Maybe