Free At Risk by Judith E. French Page B

strode away and joined two other men that Liz recognized as watermen. She hurried to catch up with Sydney and Amelia.
    “Who was that you were talking to?” Amelia asked as they picked their way through the tombstones.
    “Just someone I used to know,” Liz replied.
    “That’s right—you grew up around here, didn’t you?” Sydney said. “You must know half of Kent County.”
    Amelia chuckled. “If she’s anything like these other Delawareans, she knows all the natives, and two-thirds are relatives.”
    “Pay her no attention,” Liz said. “From what I understand, her DeLaurier in-laws are related to everyone in Baton Rouge and the four surrounding counties.”
    “Amen to that,” Amelia said. “I thought I had a lot of relatives until I married into my husband’s family. Thomas has at least five aunties on his mother’s side, and only God knows how many uncles. He has twenty-some cousins. One cousin has seven children, and another has six. It’s pandemonium at holidays.”
    After a second brief service at the gravesite, Liz said her good-byes and started home. She felt another headache coming on. The base of her skull felt as though someone were driving a spike into it. She almost wished she hadn’t agreed to have dinner with Michael that evening.
    He was her best friend, and being with him was always enjoyable, but she needed time alone. It wasn’t that she regretted having sex with Jack so much as she felt she needed time to consider what she was getting into. Becoming involved with Jack again wasn’t high on her list of good choices.
    He was trouble. He always had been. The last thing she needed now was complication in her life. And Jack Rafferty had a way of getting to her that no other man—including her ex-husband—had ever done.
    She supposed she had only herself to blame. It had been months since she’d been on a date, let alone been intimate with a man . . . unless you could count her time with Michael. And they hadn’t done it.
    Yet.
    She lowered the driver’s window and took a deep breath of the warm May air.
    There it was—the question she’d kept pushing to the back of her mind. Did she and Michael have something more than friendship between them? Was she seriously considering something more permanent? And if she was—why was she letting Jack ruin it?
    Michael Hubbard was solid and respectable, perfectly suitable for a professor’s life partner. He was smart and funny and sexy. They shared a love of books, music, and the outdoors. God knew, he doted on Katie. Showered her with gifts. And Katie liked him well enough to call him Uncle Mike. He’d make a terrific stepfather.
    Not that Michael had ever asked her to move in with him in a
significant other
situation. His pride wouldn’t let him. But if she showed up at his door with a suitcase, there was no doubt in her mind that she could stay forever.
    She swore and tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. There was no justice in the world. How could a sweet girl like Tracy Fleming end up with her throat cut, and a good guy like Michael have his world come crashing down around him? First a drunk driver had left him unable to walk, and then he’d lost a wife he loved and cherished in another senseless accident.
    She thought for a moment how it must have been for Michael—returning home to find Barbara face-down on their bed, tangled in a down comforter and suffocated during an epileptic seizure. Life was so damned unfair.
    Liz was so engrossed in her thoughts that she drove past the entrance to the supermarket. As she moved into the turn lane to go back, she decided to call the phone company about Caller ID and voice-mail service. She’d always been opposed to voice mail in her home, but since Katie had left for Dublin, she’d reconsidered.
    Jack Rafferty was waiting for her at the end of her driveway. Liz felt herself tense when she sighted the motorcycle and the black-helmeted driver. She turned into the lane fast, braked