Chase knelt to one knee and helped Ricky Goodman adjust his shoulder pads. The kid was ten but had the slighter build of the eight-year-olds. “There you go,” he said, slapping the side of the kid’s helmet.
He stood straight and blew his whistle. “Listen up!” Jacob handed him his clipboard. “Today we scrimmage against a pee wee team from Houston. They came a long way, so they’re going to play hard. I expect you all to play as a team. I expect every one of you to do your very, very best. Show your parents just how far you’ve come these last few weeks.”
“Autrey, Barron, Cherry, Erwin, Goodman, LaJoie, Marble, Pearce, Reagan, Russel, Wakefield. You’re my starting eleven. Okay. Everyone. Let’s huddle up and pray.”
Chase took off his hat and covered his heart with it on his way to one knee. “Father God, thank you for the privilege of training this team. I thank you for each player and all the great talents you have given them. Watch over them now as they compete today. Protect them from injury and fill them with strength and courage as they give of their best. Amen.”
They clapped then took the field. He made the mistake of looking behind him at the stands and saw Violet sitting among the parents and siblings. She grinned and waved at him when she saw him catch her eye. Lifting his hand to acknowledge her, he turned back to the field, suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable, his heart rate increasing slightly.
In the three days since they shared lunch, he’d only seen her briefly during the breakfast hours. He knew she got up early to work in the kitchen, then cleaned rooms and did yard work in the mornings. She spent the time he had off after football writing. He’d managed to catch her at dinner last night and told her about the game. Inspiration struck while speaking to her and he hired Scarlett to bring ice cream sundae makings for the after-game social.
He’d prayed that Violet would come with her sister and help her serve ice cream. Seeing her here, though, ready to watch him work, made him uncomfortable, self-conscious. He suddenly understood how she must have felt when he said he wanted to read one of her books.
She didn’t know, of course, that he’d stayed up until the wee hours of every morning reading and that he’d finished four of her books so far. He forgot he knew the author within a chapter of starting the first book. Something she did with her characters drew him in, and he had a hard time letting them go. He found himself caught up in 1944 New York City, with a boarding house widow named Mandalynn Clementine who solved murders as a way to work through her own grief at losing her young husband and a brother to the war.
In the first book, the murder occurred in her home. The homicide detective and former partner of the late husband assigned to the case clearly had feelings for her, and in subsequent books allowed her to look at files and crime scenes as a way to get closer to her. What fascinated him was that Violet never spelled out the detective’s motivations. He could just see it in his actions, reactions, and speech. He found himself rooting for the detective, hoping that the man would eventually end up with the girl. By the end of the fourth book, that he’d finished at three that morning, he felt the detective’s frustration and dedication as if they were his own.
The depth of stories and characterization that she’d built into fun detective mysteries fascinated him. It added a whole new layer to the attraction he felt for her.
After examining her work with such focus, having her here examining his work made him feel a little uncomfortable. He had to laugh at that because it hardly seemed fair.
Pushing her out of his mind, he focused on his team. This was their first scrimmage. They played well and fought hard and lost anyway. That didn’t bother him. It apparently bothered several parents in the stands, though, because as the game came to an end, the parents flooded the field, and several gave him angry stares. What he gathered from the conversations that followed, if he’d played this man’s son or that woman’s son instead of the other man’s son, they would have won.
Finally, he held his hands up and blew his whistle sharply. The racket from the parents died down. “Thank you for your attention,” he said. He shifted his hat and felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. “Just to be clear, I don’t owe any of you an explanation about my decisions as a coach.” An excited murmur rippled through the crowd and he held up his whistle again to ward off the words that would follow. “But okay. I’ll give some of you armchair coaches some insight. I intentionally played the least experienced players today. They need game time, and I wanted to see what they could do with the practice we’ve given them so I could spot the weak points. That was my decision as coach. I’ll change up the lineup with the next game.
“My dad, ‘Bear’ Anderson, always taught me that this game is a team sport. I respect every member of this team. I need all of the parents to be a part of this team, too. That means you need to get in the team mindset and respect every member of this team, players, parents, and coaching staff. If you can be a team player, I want you on my lineup. If you can’t, and you can’t find some way to respect my decisions as coach, I can’t use you. I’d just rather you don’t even come watch.” He tossed his clipboard in the general direction of his chair on the sideline. “Now, Texas Pearl Inn is generously catering ice cream over there. Everyone, please enjoy.”
His words cooled off the ridiculous tempers. He wondered if his father and mother ever acted like that after one of his games, especially one of his eight-year-old games. He couldn’t imagine it. They taught him early on that the decisions of his coaches were his coaches’ decisions, and no one else’s. A bad coach would mean a bad year but still didn’t require parental approval.
He remembered a terrible pee wee coach the year he turned ten. He shuddered to think about how many kids just quit playing, forever ruined by that man’s bad guidance.
“That was well done,” Violet said at his elbow.
Startled, he looked down at her. “Oh, hi. What was?”
“Chilling the angry mom.”
“Angry mom?”
She gestured around. “Why, yes. I reckon she was in a horn tossing mood. The consensus in the stands is that you don’t know a good football player. Apparently, little Jimmy could have wiped the floor with the quarterback you started. And something about some running back or something. I don’t know.”
“I see.” Chase really liked her drawl. Her manner of speech could not have been more different than the Bostonian accents of his youth. It was like the difference between hip-hop and opera.
“I reckon they’d tell you how the cow ate the cabbage if you’d sit still long enough to listen” She grinned. “I’m going to go help Scarlett.”
He watched her go to the mobile refrigerated cart. They had set up a table next to the cart and covered it with bowls, spoons, and toppings - crumbled cookies, candies, whipped cream, cherries, and dried fruit. Dozens of children and parents gathered around it while Scarlett and Violet passed out waffle bowls filled with homemade vanilla ice cream and encouraged everyone to load up on the toppings.
It took almost half an hour to get everyone served. Chase waited until all the team members and parents had a chance to get served then took his place at the end of the line.
When Chase finally made it to the serving line, he noticed Violet clearing out empty serving bowls from the table and wiping down the debris. Scarlett grinned up at him, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a T-shirt advertising her catering company. “That Houston team sure cleaned your plow, coach. I think you deserve a bowl of ice cream.”
He glanced at Violet and back to Scarlett. “I’d love one. Thanks.”
“Last in line.” Scarlett grinned. “I guess that’s what a good military commander does, eating only after all of his soldiers have been served first”
“Hadn’t really thought about it. But, yes, I don’t think I could have taken a bite before any of the boys.” Chase agreed.
While she scooped, she chatted. “I think my ice cream might have saved the day. In fact, we should do this every year. We could call this game the ‘Ice Cream Bowl.’ Cool everybody off after they get their blood up. Texans take all football seriously, even pee wee football. You were fixing to get lynched.”
“I think you’re probably right.” He accepted the waffle bowl from her. “Of course, I had a feeling the result would be what it was. Hence the planning of the ice cream.”
“Ahh. Clever coach!” Violet grinned and turned to the table with the toppings.
“Looks like an army rolled through here,” he joked.
“They’re fun. Some of the mothers, though.” Violet grinned. “You’re a hot ticket.”
He sprinkled some chopped up candy bar on his ice cream. “What does that mean?”
“Seriously?” Violet laughed and wiped some chocolate sauce off the table. “I counted seven mothers who are desperate for you just to look at them, pay attention to them, smile even once in their direction. There could be more. I’m just counting the overt ones.”
“Overt?” He glanced over at the team and their parents who had taken seats on the bleachers. No one looked overt to him. “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Scarlett peered up at Chase as if inspecting a prize bull, her eyes squinted nearly shut. Astonished, she declared, “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Good.” Violet declared. She smiled in a way that lit up her whole face. “I’d sooner snap my garters than see you fall for some fake charm. You’re far too fine for that.”
“Fine as frog hair and brave as the first man who ever ate an oyster,” Scarlett instantly agreed.
Violet’s eyes widened as if she just realized what she had said, and her face turned red. Without a word, she turned her back on him and hurried over to an overfull garbage can. While Violet emptied it, Chase caught Scarlett’s eye. “What was that?”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Well, Shoog, if you’re really riding off into the sunset in three weeks never to return, then that was nothing that needs concern you.”
Chase pursed his lips and turned away from the Pearl sisters, totally confused and not sure what to do about it. As he walked toward the parents, one of the moms approached him. She wore a pair of tight burgundy shorts and a white sleeveless top. She had silver shoes on her feet, a large clunky silver necklace around her neck, and a silver belt adorned her waist.
“Coach Chase,” she drawled. Her son Timothy walked behind her and Chase watched him bite off a piece of his waffle bowl. Chase stopped when she reached him.
“Tim’s mom. How can I help you?”
She smiled a toothy smile. “I just want to tell you how much I appreciate you for everything you’re doing with Timmy.”
She slid her sunglasses up and onto the top of her highlighted head and looked up at him with heavily made-up eyes. “He’s just been so lost since his daddy left us. I think having such a strong,” as she said the word strong, she gripped his biceps with one of her hands, “role model this summer has just been so good for him.”
Trying to pull his arm away without force, he twisted and stepped so that he faced her completely. “I, uh, I’m happy that Timothy’s here.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking how nice it would be if he had a positive male influence all the time. Got any ideas about that?”
“Look. I’m just here to coach your son for the camp, ma’am. No offense, but I’m not the guy who can solve that particular problem for you.”
Not to be dissuaded, she stepped even closer. “Well, if there’s anything you need, anything I can do for you while you’re here, you just be sure to let me know. Anything at all.”
The way she said the word anything, dripping with honey and full of promises, made him suddenly taste bitter bile in the back of his throat. “Yeah. Thanks. I’m all set.”
Annoyed and uncomfortable, he continued walking toward the parents. “Everyone? Thanks for coming out today, and thanks for taking part in the ice cream. The boys have worked really hard. They deserved this break.”
A dad spoke up. “If they worked so hard, why’d you set ‘em up to lose?”
“Okay.” Chase scowled. “As I have already said, today was about developing the team. Today’s match? It wasn’t the super bowl. It wasn’t even the district championship. This was a friendly scrimmage for the off-season pee wee league. We didn’t even keep score.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll see all your boys back here at eight in the morning. They did really well today and I’m proud of them.”
Any thought he ever had about possibly coaching football fled with the attitude of these parents. He had a hard time even staying polite as everyone cleaned up and packed their gear. As he policed the area and made sure no spare paper bowl or napkin floated around, Violet approached him. “We’re fixing to head out.”
“Oh.” He picked up a gum wrapper. “Okay.”
“Do you want a ride?”
“Oh. Uh, thanks, but, I have my bike.”
“Oh.” Violet looked momentarily puzzled. “Alright.”
She started to turn away, and Chase tensed with realization. He called out to her. “Hey, Violet, are you free later? I know you have chores in the evening. Maybe after dinner?”
“I can meet you on the porch after supper around eight.”
She walked away before he could say, “Great.”
As he biked back to the inn, he thought about what Scarlett had said. Why was he seeking out time to spend with Violet when had to leave in three weeks?
Would he possibly be back? Did he want to take this job offer and move to College Station permanently? If only he knew the answer to that.
“God,” he said under his breath, “I know your timing is perfect and I am not trying to nag you. But I could really use the insight I’ve been asking for. Please. Thanks.”
He parked his bike at the inn and locked it. He intentionally walked around the back of the property, hoping to catch Violet or maybe engage her grandmother in the rose garden, but he didn’t see anyone. The front room was empty, and when he stood still and listened, he heard no movement around him. Taking his time, he went to the bookshelf and found book number five. Still, no one came in. Finally, he went upstairs to his room.
After knocking off the heat of the day with a quick shower, he sat at the desk and opened his email program. He hadn’t spent a lot of time on his computer the last couple of days because he’d been reading so much. When he saw the two-day-old email from Shawn Murray inviting him to dinner tonight to discuss the job offer, he felt his stomach clench. Was it too late to reply?
Five minutes later, he got a text from an unknown number with a College Station area code. The address would require a vehicle instead of his bike. He arranged for a service, then changed into a pair of khaki pants and an A&M golf shirt. He grabbed his room key and cell phone, fastening his watch as he rushed down the stairs.
Thankfully, he saw Violet just before she disappeared into the dining room. “Hey!”
She turned, her eyes wide with surprise, and looked him up and down. “Well, hey there.”
“Violet, I have an unexpected dinner thing. I may be late.”
Violet laughed. “You realize this is the second time we’ve made specific plans you’ve changed at the last minute due to a quote, dinner thing, unquote?”
He had the good humor to feel slightly embarrassed. “You’re right. Truth is if I hadn’t been so caught up in the phenomenally complete world of Mandalynn Clementine the last several days, I would have checked my email and known about it ahead of time.” He put a hand on her elbow. “Seriously. I’m sorry. This may go long. Would you like me to text you if it ends up I can’t make it?”
She pressed her lips together. “Phenomenally complete world?”
“You have no idea. I have book five up in my room, ready to start tonight. Wish I could go back and start at the beginning and re-experience it. Instead, I’ll just say, thank you for the ride. I have no doubt I will be among the many fans clamoring for your next book.”
Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth as if trying to capture the grin that bloomed. “Well. Thank you. That’s a right nice compliment.”
“I really wanted to talk to you about it tonight. So, what do you say?”
She waved a hand in the general direction of the front door. “Have your ‘dinner thing’ or date or whatever it is. I have to write tonight. I’ll see you later.”
Violet started to turn away, but Chase squeezed her arm to keep her there. “It’s not a date.”
With a raised eyebrow, she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Oh? No helpless pee wee mama throwing herself at the big, strong, kind-hearted coach?”
His eyes closed in utter distaste. “Save me from those churlish women.” Realizing what he’d said, he let her go and stepped back.
“Churlish?”
“Sorry.” He grinned.
“Oh, I wasn’t disagreeing with you, Boston. I just really like that word. Churlish.” Her Texas twang flowed around the word and made it almost sound like a compliment. “Churlish. A churl. So, you’re dating a churl.”
“I already said, it’s not a date. It’s about a job. A position here in town, actually.” The flash of metal reflection coming through the window made him look and see the car pulling up outside. “Ride’s here. See you later.”
Chase waved as he walked out the front door.
Violet stood staring at the closed door and whispered, “A job here in town?”
Violet had to get some work done tonight. She would have put it off to sit on the front porch with Chase, but it was better if she got some words down. A scene mulled in her head, and if she didn’t get it out, it would distract her from everything else, including conversations with Chase.
After drying and putting away the last of the serving dishes from the 16-bean soup and cheese bread served tonight, she grabbed her laptop and went to her room. She took a long hot shower, working the scene out in her mind, annoyed when the real world kept interrupting.
Why did Chase want to spend time with her? Of course, if he was considering a job here, then maybe it made more sense. Maybe he wanted to see her out, and spend more time with her, because he hoped to move back here. But work was work and this was personal. He wanted to see more of her. He had made that plenty clear. Maybe this feeling in the air between the two of them really could grow into something more.
She got out of the shower and threw on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. As she applied moisturizer to her face and examined the healing scar on her chin, she absently wondered if any of it would have happened if he hadn’t helped her the day a piece of debris opened up her chin. Is that what put her on his radar? It certainly made him break through her wall of preferring not to have conversations with strangers when he asked her about it.
Maybe, but she knew it also had a lot to do with the box. Their bonding actually began there.
Shaking her head, she ran a comb through her wet hair before she grabbed her laptop and settled into her oversized reclining chair. She accessed her music files, started some Big Band music, and opened the novel in progress in her word processor. With her deadline looming, she didn’t have time for reliving the last three weeks.
How many victims would this killer claim before Mandalynn caught him?
As her fingers started moving on the keys, her mind escaped the familiar comfort of present-day College Station, Texas, and took her to the mean and unfamiliar streets of Manhattan, February of 1944.
Violet let her fingers fly over the keys, letting the words pour out of her as Mandalynn Clementine took in details most people couldn’t see, as her brain processed facts and clues with inductive and reductive reasoning that wowed the homicide detective who loved her.
Mandalynn’s foot slipped on an icy patch as she walked around the alley. She paused, the toe of her brown leather boot touching frozen blood. Frosty wind stung her cheeks, but it gave a little relief to the scent of garbage permeating the air, making her nostrils curl. She turned in a full circle, looking around and paying attention to the trash cans and the dented lid lying on the ground next to one of them.
Lance walked into the alley. As she watched him approach, she saw the light flurries of snowflakes dusting past him. The ends of his brown trench coat fluttered in the wind.
“What’s cooking, Toots? You know what they call dishy dames who walk down alleys all alone in this neighborhood?”
Excited to show him what she’d found, she absently asked, “What’s that?”
“Victims.”
Batting her eyes, she replied, “Natch. So, which is it, Lance? You think I’m a dishy dame or a victim?”
“I think you’re the kind of girl my mother warned me about.”
With a laugh, she said, “I know you’re the kind of fella dad warned me about.”
“You’re dad’s a savvy guy. Just like his little girl.”
Knowing his mother ran a nursing station in Switzerland, she retorted with, “Yeah? You’re mother wears army boots.”
Lance shrugged. “Doesn’t make her wrong. Why so churlish this morning, doll?”
She waved a beckoning gloved hand. “Step over here, Detective.”
With a flirty glance and a warm voice, he said, “Give me a reason.”
“I need some shade and you’re tall like a tree.” She waved toward him again. “Use your clompers.”
He strolled toward her. “Shade, huh? Wouldn’t want you to get sunburned in this heat wave, doll. Always ready to help a damsel in distress.”
She gestured at the garbage cans. “Take a look at this. What do your finely-honed police instincts tell you?”
He narrowed his eyes, then he honed in on the dented lid and his face relaxed. He smiled down at her. “Knew you were smart. Smart and a real dish.”
Looking up at him, she put a hand on his arm. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the smart and dishy ones. So? Ameche the boys back at the station?”
“That would be swell.”
“Yeah. I’ll go drop a dime and get some black-and-whites in here.” He started to walk away and paused and turned. “Say, it’s payday. I got a wad of clams. How’s about you help relieve me of some of that moolah tonight? We could catch a show or cut a rug. You pick. Whataya say?”
Suddenly, a door flew open. Mandalynn and Lance looked up, startled. “It’s my sister!”
Lance frowned. “You don’t have a sister!”
Violet ripped her eyes away from her laptop and saw Scarlett open her bedroom door and poke her head in. “There’s a rather muscular Army Officer slash Quarterback up on the front porch looking like the cheese fell off his cracker.”
Her mind still on an icy alley and a pending dinner date between Mandaynn Clementine and Detective Lance Peters, she frowned, “What? Who?”
Scarlett wiggled her eyebrows, “Oh, you know. Brave enough to eat in a boomtown cafe. So honest if he says a hen dips snuff, you can look under her wing for the can. Big as Brewster County. Rich enough to eat fried chicken all week long. So strong he makes Samson look like a sissy. And he is just all gussied up. I believe he goes by Chase Anderson.”
Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Oh. Oh, gosh.”
“Problem?”
She shut her laptop lid and scrambled to her feet. “What time is it?”
Scarlett looked at her watch. “Nine-thirty. He’s been up there cooling his heels for quite some time. He looks sad like Henry Ford stopped making pickup trucks.”
Violet ran to the dresser mirror and pulled at her comfortable writing T-shirt. “Aw, shucks.”
Whipping the shirt over her head, she looked for something less ratty and less ten-years old. Scarlett watched her every move. “Where’ve you been since supper, Shoog?”
In an alley in New York. She didn’t say that out loud, though. “Oh, golly. Oh, gosh.” Finding a clean T-shirt, she pulled it over her head. “Go make some tea. Bring us some tea out onto the porch.” As she rushed past her sister, she threw over her shoulder, “Please!”
Chase rose to his feet as Violet rushed out of the screen door. “Hi.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve been out here for a while. I texted you.”
“Oh.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She’d put it on do not disturb when she started working. She saw a text from him asking if she was still awake. He sat back down in the rocking chair. She leaned against the porch railing. “I was working and had it on silent. How did your supper go?”
It was hard to read his features in the dim light, but what she could see looked hard, tired. “It went perfectly. I should be flying high right now.”
He didn’t say anything else, so she prompted him. “Well, why aren’t you?”
Chase liked the way she made the word “well” sound like a two-syllable word. With a heaving sigh, he rubbed the back of his head. “The more perfect it sounded, the more I knew it wasn’t for me.”
They both watched as Scarlett came out onto the porch, carrying a tray containing two mugs, a ceramic teapot, and a small box of assorted teas. Violet noticed the tiny bowl of lemon slices and another with sugar cubes. Her love for her sister expanded tenfold.
“Such a nice night,” Scarlett drawled. “Thought tea would make it even more perfect. I’ve already had mine but y’all go on ahead.”
Scarlett set the tray on the table next to Chase and disappeared back into the house. Trying to gather her thoughts and exit panic mode, Violet took her time pouring water into each mug and selected a lemon tea for herself. Chase reached over and found a packet of Earl Grey.
Another long silence stretched out between them. Finally, Violet felt like she could communicate like a grownup and asked, “Are you hunting for work?”
“I wasn’t. I like being an officer in the army. I just got to Hawaii a few months ago, and I was looking forward to another two years there. I’ll make captain and get command time if I stay.”
“That sounds nice, I reckon.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Chase added a slice of lemon to his tea.
Violet watched him steep his Earl Grey with practiced ease. He took the first sip and a grin began to form on his lips. She said, “You know, I occasionally enjoy a cup of tea though I’d have to say coffee’s more my style. But I’ve noticed you drink barrels of tea.”
Chase’s grin slipped. “It’s all my dad ever drank. He loved his tea”
He leaned forward, blowing on the top of the hot liquid to cool it. The cup looked rather tiny in his large hands. She could tell his thoughts had gone to memories of his father. Violet crossed her arms and made her voice sound cheery. “Alright, now. So tell me. Why aren’t you painting the town and the front porch about the supper thing? Sounds like it went real well. Isn’t that what you want”
He pushed himself back to his feet and moved to stand in front of her. “I felt restless after my dad died. I didn’t want to let him go. It was hard on me. I thought maybe a change of scenery, of job description, of military life to civilian life would make me feel better. I prayed and prayed about it, but God stayed silent. I think I came back here to see if I wanted to live here, again.”
She stared up at him. His face was entirely shadowed. “And the answer is ‘no’?”
“For three weeks, I’ve sought it out. Then we started to get to know each other, and I thought you were God’s answer.”
If the railing hadn’t been pressed up against her back, Violet would have taken a step back from him. “Me?”
He met her eyes. “Yes, Violet Pearl. You. I thought you were God’s way of telling me I could stay here, build a life here, leave the military behind. But in the car ride back from the restaurant tonight, I received an almost audible answer. As if God sat right next to me.”
Her lips felt suddenly dry. She took a careful sip of the hot tea, then set the cup on the railing next to her. “So, I’m not the answer?”
“Not to that question.” It surprised her when he brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I want to continue to get to know you, though. I want to see what this is between us.”
“You’re leaving in three—”
His lips covering hers cut off her protest. Violet gasped and started to pull back, but the hand that rose to his chest to push him away instead gripped his shirt and tried to pull him even closer. Her world began to spin, and she slipped her other arm around his neck to steady herself. The smell of his aftershave tingled her nose, filled her senses. He tasted like tea and peppermint. His hand cupped her cheek. His fingers moved through her hair and gripped the back of her head. Just when she thought she would drown in the smell and sensation of him, just as she rose onto her toes to get even closer to him, he gentled the kiss and lifted his mouth.
Slowly, Chase pulled his hand out of her hair and stepped back, breaking all contact. Violet took a deep breath and gripped the railing behind her so tightly that the pain registered somewhere in the roaring of her mind.
“—weeks,” she whispered, intentionally finishing her sentence.
“Then I guess we’d better make it intentional.” He took another step back. She moved on purpose, moving to put the porch light behind her so that she could see his face, and so shadow would cloak her face in darkness.
“What if I don’t want to get to know someone who’s leaving?”
His smile surprised her. “Then you’d better say something like that right now.”
She opened her mouth but closed it again. Chase stepped forward and slipped a hand around to the back of her neck, gently squeezing as he pressed his lips against her forehead. “That’s how I feel, too. Goodnight, Violet Pearl.”
As the door shut behind him, she lowered herself into the rocking chair. Any thought about going back to her room and picking the book back up had fled far away. Instead, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, slowly rocking the chair back and forth.