Page 168 of Track of Courage

She got up. Turned and ran straight into—oh no, no—Vic.

“Hey,” the woman said.

She had a deeper voice than Keely imagined and spoke with gravel in her tone, as if she might be a smoker. Broad shouldered, thin hipped, with arms that looked like they could break a person, her blond hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail.

And still, she seemed almost concerned, a frown creasing her brows. “I came over to make sure everything was okay. Were you waiting for someone?”

Yes.You.

Keely swallowed. Shook her head.Aw—

“Okay. Well, if you need—”

A shout from near the dartboard, and a flannel-shirted manpushed another man and suddenly tables flipped over and shouts rose—

“Topher—let him go!” Vic headed into the fray, and Keely made a beeline for the door.

Run.It wouldn’t be the first time.

She pushed out into the brisk night, the stars bright in the black sky. Somewhere to the north, the glaciers and mountains rose, routing a frigid wind along the main street. She tucked up the collar of her jacket and pulled out a hat.

Last thing she needed was a bout of pneumonia.

Hiking her satchel over her shoulder, she headed down the street, past a bakery and the twinkle lights of a pizza joint, a grocery store that looked like a house, and then down a side street to the Gold Nugget Inn. The two-story home had once been owned by some great-grandfather of the owners, Hal and Nora Jensen, who had turned it into a café on the main level but kept a few rooms for rent upstairs. She took the one with the private bathroom.

It was also the only B and B open for lodging in March.

They’d seemed like a nice couple when she checked in during the daylight, and now the smell of baking bread and the quiet crackle of a fireplace in the front room met her as she entered and headed up the stairs.

It calmed her, a little. Okay, so maybe ... maybe...

Aw. What was she thinking. Stupid idea, thinking her birth mother might have some insight into the biggest decision of her life. Given the looks of the woman, she had as much mothering in her baby finger as Keely did.

“Are you in for the night?”

Keely turned on the stairs and spotted Nora Jensen standing at the bottom. Mid-sixties, wearing an apron, the woman gave off a Marie Barone fromEverybody Loves Raymondvibe. A hint of meddling, maybe some overcaring in her smile.

But it wasn’t a bad look for an innkeeper.

“Yes. I—”

“I know it’s dark out, but it’s only six p.m. Would you care for a hot cocoa, or we have a puzzle by the fire that needs attention.”

“Oh. Um.” Keely sighed. “I think I’m heading to bed.”

Nora nodded. “Breakfast is at eight. Have a good night.”

Something about the woman stirred a warmth into Keely’s bones. It reminded her of her grandma, maybe, once upon a time.

She headed upstairs and set her satchel onto the rose-flowered bedspread. Eyelet curtains hung at the windows, a hurricane lamp pooled light over one dark walnut bedside table, and of course, a Bible sat on the other. A green Queen Anne chair held a doily at the nape, and with the old Panasonic television, she felt like she might be stepping into her father’s den. The place held a sense of time captured, revered.

A place to rest.

To stopthinking.

She sat on the bed, toed off her boots, and hung her jacket on the tall bedpost. Then she pulled out her phone and opened her photos app. Scrolled to the right one.

A four-year-old girl with blond hair wisping around her cherub face and sky-blue eyes the color of a perfect day laughed into the picture. She held a dripping ice cream cone, chocolate around her mouth, and a grin that could light up the coldest night.