Sins That Haunt by Lucy Farago Page B

supposed to be out here either.”
    Leah shrugged her tiny shoulders. “No one ever comes around in the mornings. You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?” she asked, suddenly panicked.
    â€œI don’t know who she is. So,” she indicated the trailer twenty yards away, “who lives in that one? When I was a kid it was Mr. Bench.” Then she lowered her voice. “We used to call him Mr. Stench, on account of he stank.”
    Leah giggled. “I guess not anymore.”
    â€œWow, no kidding? And he still lives here?” The man could never remember her name or which trailer was hers so there was no chance he’d place her now.
    â€œHe told me he got married last year and she makes him take a bath. They went to church this morning. She’s a nice old lady. I get to have lunch with them today.”
    â€œThey watch you when your mom works?” She recalled Mr. Stench used to help her mom too, but the guy made it hard to eat Cheerios when garbage smelled better.
    Leah nodded. “I’m supposed to stay in the trailer when they’re out and Momma’s working. You’re not going to tell?”
    â€œNo. But why don’t you go watch TV or something?”
    â€œIt broke when we moved here. Momma says maybe next month we’ll get a new one. When her check comes.”
    Shannon had noticed a satellite dish on the trailer. TV was a luxury item but at the same time a necessity when no babysitter could be found. “Where does she work?”
    â€œYou said you weren’t going to tell her,” she said, once again nervous.
    â€œAnd I won’t. I’m just making small talk. I live in Las Vegas. You ever heard of Vegas?”
    â€œNo. I live here now. Momma works at Captain Tony’s. She’s a waitress, but on Sunday she cooks. On account of the captain being sick on Sundays.”
    â€œ Every Sunday?”
    â€œSo far. She’s supposed to work every Sunday.”
    â€œNo, I mean he’s sick every Sunday?” That was weird.
    Leah nodded, her curls bobbing up and down. “That’s what Momma says. A bottle makes him sick. But I don’t know why he doesn’t throw it away if it keeps making him sick.”
    Either Leah didn’t understand what her mother meant or she understood only too well. “Silly man.”
    Leah agreed with another bob of her curls. “Want to see my doll?” she asked, thrusting it out. “I just got it.”
    Shannon took the well-loved doll, gently cradling it in her hands. “What’s her name?”
    â€œSamantha Ashley Denise.”
    â€œThat’s a mouthful.”
    â€œMr. Bench gave her to me. He said the doll was sad and needed a friend. But sad isn’t a nice name for a doll, so I changed it. She’s not sad anymore.”
    Sad? Ah, Samantha Ashley Denise. Smart kid. “I see. Well, you did good.”
    â€œYup. He said the little girl who used to own her didn’t want Sad anymore. So Mr. Bench saved her for someone who did. He said if I gave her a good home maybe the other little girl would be happy too.”
    Shannon glanced at the doll in her hands and did a double take. No way. It was a rag doll like any other, made by the thousands. It couldn’t be hers. Why would he keep it? Had her mother left it behind in the trailer when she’d moved? She lifted the tiny dress, and there around the sewn belly button was the ink heart Shannon had drawn. She handed the doll back to Leah. “I bet you he was right, especially if you’ve taken really good care of her.”
    â€œI have.”
    And here she’d thought she’d been so clever, hiding her misery for no one except Maggie to see. She guessed the crazy old coot wasn’t so crazy after all. Had he known what JJ was making her do? She and her mom would go through periods when her mother’s assistance barely fed them. Then JJ would show up and take Shannon on a