Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) by Susan Craig Page A

Ideal.”
    “And Sports Unlimited?”
    “Fishing tackle—Matthew’s current obsession. But something the whole crew can play with immediately always trumps anything you have to wait to use.”
    Jim grinned. “It’s good that you know these things, Sally.”
    “All part of my job, Doc.” She winked and turned to Tyler as Jim pulled into a parking space at the brick storefront. “Let’s go, Squirt. And make it quick—I’m starving.”
    Less than an hour later they stood in line at Dragon King, waiting for a table to open up. The restaurant was crowded, and Tyler fidgeted as they waited for the small square tables to empty. Sally hadn’t been joking about her hunger. Her stomach rumbled as she shut her eyes and inhaled the fresh, spicy scent of the food. Jim made small talk with Tyler, helping to distract him till they were shown to a table. Once that happened, Tyler didn’t even sit, but rocketed off to the buffet, filling his plate with sweet and sour pork, fried dumplings, and, at her command, a small portion of stir-fried vegetables. She and Jim ordered more balanced fare from the menu.
    It felt good to be out, to feel relaxed and carefree. Since Tyler’s homework was finished, they lingered over the meal and let the fortune cookies sit on the plate while they talked. Tyler began to look tired.
    An accommodating waitress boxed Sally’s left-overs. Jim carried the bag to the truck while Sally chivvied a cranky Tyler along. It seemed a short time later that Jim shifted the sleeping child to lean against him so she could grab the day’s mail. Looking back at the picture they made in the truck, patient man and sleeping boy, she reached into the box. The rough edge of paper torn from a spiral coil brushed between her thumb and forefinger.
    At that touch, the night turned cold, and a chill ran up her spine. Her heart began to race. She clutched the mail in her sweating hand, refusing to look at it, and returned silently to the cab. Jim didn’t seem to notice. He ran the truck the rest of the way up the drive, and helped Tyler stumble out, walking the sleepy boy toward the porch.
    Sally followed close behind, casting nervous glances into the darkness on either side. The porch, which had a movement sensor on the overhead light, remained dark.
    “Bulb must be out,” muttered Jim, reaching toward Sally for the key, and unlocking the door.
    She stopped in the living room, body and voice tense. “Jim, put him down and come back.” Her chest felt tight, too rigid to manage more than short, shallow breaths.
    He nodded without turning.
    But Sally found herself following them down the hallway, feeling rather like an awkward toy pulled by a fractious child. She stopped outside the door to Tyler’s room.
    It took Jim only a moment to remove her son’s outer clothes and tuck him into the warm sleeping bag. “Night, Ty,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”
    The only answer was an unintelligible murmur, as Tyler wriggled into a comfortable ball.
    Jim closed the door to the room, and didn’t look surprised to see Sally waiting in the hallway. Moving forward he touched her shoulder, tur ning her back toward the kitchen. “Where are your light bulbs?”
    With one cold hand she pointed out the appropriate cupboard, while the other still clutched the mail. The palm touching the notepaper felt violated, yet to let it go would be worse—as if the hidden words would somehow gain strength if released.
    “Come with me while I fix that light.”
    Nodding numbly, Sally followed Jim to the front door. He reached up into the decorative globe and touched the darkened bulb. Light cascaded through his fingers. A quick twist to screw the old bulb back in place, and the “repair” was complete. He pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack in the entryway. “Only a loose bulb, nothing more. Now, do you want to sit on the couch or in the kitchen?”
    “The kitchen.” Sally feared softness would cause her to disintegrate. Her