Free Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Marking Mariah (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Liz Crowe Page B

and her thighs stuck together. “Oh my God. Oh shit, Cole!” she shrieked like a crazy woman as she tripped over a light saber and impaled her foot on a Lego block before getting to the door. She ran out barefoot onto the sidewalk between the garages for her building and the next one, head swiveling, taking in the small, duck-infested lake in front of her.
    “Cole,” she whispered, running over to it, wondering if she could dive in without hitting her head on the bottom.
    Her vision narrowed. Heart pounding in her ears, she studied the calm surface of the man-made water feature. Right as she prepared to jump in, convinced he was sitting on the bottom, his tiny lungs filling up with water as he grabbed for the fish and asked them where Patrick Star was, someone touched her shoulder. She yelped and jumped back from the lake’s edge.
    “Sorry,” a woman said. “But are you looking for a little boy? Brown skin? About yay tall?” She held her hand down next to her upper thigh.
    “Yes,” Mariah whispered, her vision clouding with tears. “Did you see him fall in?”
    “Oh no, honey, he’s not in there.” The woman laughed, a tinkling, merry sound that put Mariah at ease. She had to hold herself back from dropping to her knees and grabbing onto to the woman’s legs in relief. “He’s at the pool, with my boy.”
    “The…the pool?”
    “Yep. We found him wandering around the outside of the fence, looking lost. He said his mama was taking a nap and he wanted to swim. I could tell he was on the verge of a fit, if you know what I mean, so we brought him in, stuck some floaties on him and he’s over there splashing away with my Henry.”
    Mariah swallowed, speechless in the face of the woman’s kindness.
    “You look done in, hon. Want some tea or something? Or something harder? It’s almost five o’clock and anyway it is still officially summer.”
    When Mariah remained dumbstruck, her mind racing to catch up to the woman’s words telling her that Cole was all right, that he was swimming and having fun and not pitching some kind of massive fit—or drowning in the tiny lake next to her—the woman patted her arm. “My name’s Lindee. What’s yours?”
    Mariah had the sense that the woman was humoring her, as if sensing that she was addled, or maybe some kind of a meth head, unable to take care of her own child. “Mariah,” she said, trying to gather her wits and shreds of dignity around her. “Mariah Bailey. We just moved in a week ago. Cole…that’s my son…he’s having a tough time adjusting.”
    “Mariah. What a beautiful name.” The woman—Lindee—narrowed her eyes at her, then widened them and put a hand over her mouth. “Now I know where I saw you,” she said, grinning widely now. “You’re Mariah from The Singer show. You won, didn’t you?”
    Mariah winced and nodded.
    “Well now, honey I’ll have to admit I’m a little surprised to see you here in Lucasville, Kentucky of all the places on earth. I figured you’d be out in California recording your first hit song. You were amazing. I guess you hear that a lot. Sorry.”
    “No, it’s okay,” she said, running a trembling hand through her hair. “I couldn’t stay. You already met the reason why.”
    Lindee nodded. “I did indeed and I’d say it’s the best reason on earth.” Mariah tried not to hug Lindee to her, to thank her not only for saving her kid but also understanding why she couldn’t live the glamorous dream life of a pop star. It was too long of a shot anyway, and she knew that. This was her life. She’d wanted a child. She’d gotten one, but somehow as part of that deal, she’d lost her marriage. Which made Cole her sole responsibility.
    “Come on. Let’s go make some wine spritzers. We can pack them in plastic bottles and run back up to the pool.”
    Mariah hesitated. Lindee looked to be a few years older than she but “her Henry” must be much older than Cole. She was a tall woman, thick around the