Where Angels Tread, Kensington Family Novels Book 1

When Zachary was a little boy, he used to bounce off the last step of the school bus and directly into Heidi Griffin’s arms, eager to tell her everything about his day with the kind of innocent childhood excitement that made her heart burst with love. She would lead him into the cozy kitchen and sit him down in front of a tall glass of milk and two warm peanut butter cookies, his favorite, and listen raptly as he chattered on and on about his latest art project, or else recited his multiplication tables, his cheeks flushed pink with pride. She knew then that those days would be short-lived, that she needed to drink in every moment with her son before he became an awkward, surly teenager who breezed by her without a backward glance.

Unfortunately, Heidi thought as she pressed her fingers against her temple in irritation, that time had come sooner than she ever imagined. As she looked at her son, now ten years old with a shock of red hair and a wiry body he had yet to grow into, she longed for the days when scraped knees and other childhood traumas were fixed with a quick kiss and a trip to the ice cream parlor. But the events of the past three years had left Zachary floundering; the sparkle in his blue-green eyes had faded, along with his infectious laugh and zest for life. He had become a shell of the boy she once knew, but Heidi, in her heartache, had yet to figure out how to reach him. She felt like they were both drowning in their grief, desperately grasping for each other’s hands but finding nothing but air instead.

Trying to control the quake of rage in her voice, Heidi waved the principal’s note in front of Zachary’s sullen face; he did his best to appear nonchalant, but Heidi knew from the way the color crept into his cheeks that he was steeling himself for a fight. “I need you to explain this to me,” she said quietly, silently rereading the note once more. The principal of Zachary’s middle school had mailed home a handwritten letter to Heidi, voicing his concern over Zachary’s recent spate of absences; the only problem was that as far as Heidi knew, Zachary hadn’t missed a day of school at all this year.

Zachary merely shrugged in response, his face mutinous, his shoulders hunched. Despite her anger, Heidi felt a rush of affection for her only child as he stood there in pants two sizes too big and a black faux leather jacket that looked as though it had jumped right out of an eighties hair band video.