Molly was hit by a bizarre sense of deju vu when the small child launched herself into Thomas’s arms. Had she been like that when she was little? She knew she had. And here she was now, who knows how many miles from home and everything familiar.
When Thomas introduced Abigail, Molly stood. She couldn’t quite remember if she was supposed to stand because it was courteous or if you stood when there was a stranger and standing meant you could get away faster. Memories of self-defense and etiquette lectures coalesced in her head and she suddenly wished that she had paid attention to either. But this woman didn’t look threatening. She was smiling. She looked happy. Of course she was; she was surrounded by her family. “Abby?” Oh, that wasn’t supposed to come out as a question. “It’s nice to meet you too. And, Bridget?” She made the statement a question, uncertain of whether she had correctly caught the child’s name.