MACEY OPENED THE FRONT DOOR AND LOOKED AROUND. SHE HAD TURNED on every light with the hope of attracting kids up their long driveway, but so far, they hadn’t had a single trick-or-treater.
“Where is everyone?” she whispered softly, putting her arm around Keeper’s shoulders. He wagged his tail and looked around hopefully, too. She sat down on the top step and he plopped down next to her. “No one’s even come to see you,” she said softly, straightening his new Halloween bandanna, which she’d ironed for the occasion, “even though you look so handsome.” She gazed down at the jack-o’-lanterns lining the steps and driveway—she and Ben had carved pumpkins every night that week, getting ready. Ben had even put orange lightbulbs in the front porch lights, and she’d made a life-size stuffed witch and sat her in the front rocking chair with a bowl of candy in her lap.
She pulled her sweater around her and stroked Keeper’s soft ears. “Never mind not having our own kids to take trick-or-treating,” she mused, “we can’t even get other people’s kids to come to our house.”
“Maybe that’s because they know it’s haunted,” Ben teased from the other side of the screen.
“Or maybe it’s because they know about the curse. You know, because it’s built on an old burial ground.”
“Maybe,” Ben said, coming out, grabbing a candy bar from the witch’s bowl, and sitting on the other side of Keeper. The big dog swished his tail happily as he sniffed the wrapper.
“Do you really think that’s possible?” Macey asked. “Could this house be cursed? Could we be cursed for living here?”
“No,” Ben said firmly, ripping the wrapper off and popping the candy in his mouth. He looked into Keeper’s mournful eyes. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for pups.”
“It seems like we’re cursed,” Macey mused. “Just think about it, the first time I got pregnant was in this house, and every pregnancy since . . .”
“Mace, that’s crazy. We are not cursed for living here,” Ben said.
“Well, what about the widow who walks the halls?”
“What about her?”
“Maybe, because she never got to have kids, she doesn’t want anyone else to have kids either.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ben said. “I think the ghoulish spirits have gone to your head.”
Just then, the door behind them slammed shut and they both jumped. “See?” Macey said.
“That was the wind,” Ben said matter-of-factly. He watched the swaying trees. “There’s a storm brewing out in the Atlantic, and it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow.”
“Great. Just what we need.”
“It’s definitely not what I need. The floors in the Jackson house are supposed to be refinished, and a hurricane will put us behind schedule. I don’t need the painters tracking mud on the floors before they’re finished, either.”
“I’m more worried about Harper. What if she hasn’t found some kind of shelter?”
Ben nodded. “Hopefully, she has . . . or they find her soon.”
“Have you thought any more about fostering?”
“From the way you’re talking,” Ben said, avoiding the question, “it’s not safe for her to live here. I mean, what if you’re right and this house is cursed, or the widow doesn’t want kids here? Some awful accident might befall her.”
“Very funny,” Macey said, rolling her eyes, but then she thought about Harper’s heart. “I hope nothing bad happens.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” he said, stroking Keeper’s soft fur.
“Well, I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“I can tell. . . .”
“You haven’t thought about her, though. . . .”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about her,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been thinking how she must be going through a really hard time right now . . . and she’s just a little kid—she shouldn’t have to go through something like this alone.”
“Does that mean”—she eyed him hopefully—“you’d be willing to give fostering a try?”
Ben shook his head, unable to believe he was giving in . . . again! “Mace, if you think this is something we’re supposed to do, I’m willing to give it a try.” He stopped and smiled at her. “After all, I know you’ll get your way eventually, so I may as well give in now and save myself a lot of trouble.”
“True,” Macey said, smiling and squeezing his hand. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“Thanks,” he said, rubbing Keeper’s ears. “Well, there was some paperwork to adopt this guy . . . so there’s probably a mountain of paperwork involved in fostering a child.”
“Probably,” Macey agreed. “I’ll have to give Cora a call . . . maybe she’ll have some news.”
“Maybe we won’t be approved,” he ventured. “Then I’ll be off the hook.”
“We’ll be approved,” Macey assured him. “They just have to find her.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully, trying to wrap his mind around all the responsibilities being foster parents would entail. “Do you think she’ll fit in at the new elementary school?”
“I hope so. I think Mrs. Lyons works there now, instead of at the middle school.”
“Our old lunch lady?”
Macey nodded. “Yup, the very same one who let you get a new tray when you spilled your clam roll and fruit everywhere.”
Ben laughed. “Wow! Hold old is she now?”
“Well, she wasn’t that old when we were there—probably in her forties . . . and that was twentysomething years ago, so she’s probably in her sixties.”
“Maybe she’ll look out for Harper.”
“If she finds out she’s yours, she will.”
Ben nodded. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation—a conversation that included possessive pronouns, verbs about caring, and an actual child, all in the same sentence. The prospect of having a child in their care who would attend his old elementary school made him feel more excited than he expected.
“I wish they’d find her,” Macey said. “I don’t get how a little girl can just disappear into thin air.”
“It’s a crazy world, Mace. Kids disappear without a trace all the time.”
“She doesn’t deserve to disappear without a trace. She deserves a chance.”
“And we’re gonna give her that chance,” Ben said. “Right, Keep?” he said, tousling the dog’s ears. “We’ll find her and then it’s your job to straighten her out.”
Keeper thumped his tail, and they both laughed.
“Well, it doesn’t look like we’re going to get any trick-or-treaters.”
“After all this work,” Macey said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe no one came.”
“Look on the bright side,” Ben teased. “We get to keep all the candy.”
“That is not a bright side—it won’t be good for my waistline.”
Ben wrapped his arm around her. “There’s nothing wrong with your waistline,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head and then softly kissing her lips. “And since you didn’t get to give out any treats tonight, I’ll let you give me a treat if you want.”
“Ha!” she said. “What kind of chocolate would you like? I have Nestlé Crunch, Kit Kat, Milky Way . . .”
“Hmm . . . that isn’t the kind of sugar I had in mind.”
“And what, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“Oh, you know . . .” he said, pulling her toward him.
“Hmm . . . I think you’re gonna have to show me, mister,” she teased in her best Southern drawl.