The front door creaked and his mother’s keys jiggled against the door frame as he shook them free of the lock. Brian realized he was standing halfway up the stairs, broom and dustpan in hand.
“Right here, Mom.” He went down the stairs to greet her.
How could she always sense when he was afraid or upset? It was uncanny.
“I got me a scare on the way home. Went through the swamp and got to jumping at shadows. Fell smack in a puddle. I’m just cleaning up after myself.” He kissed her cheek.
Maribelle Casey smiled at her son. Her blue eyes reflected the light strangely, telling everyone who met her, that she was blind. Her palm touched his cheek and she put her forehead against…
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