She felt the two soft, childish lips, and they were soft, so soft against the side of her chin.
“Thank you, Mommy,” came his whispered words.
Who is this man-child with the unruly thatch of dark, coarse hair, Mona wondered. My son is a grown man with children of his own, and she woke with the feel of the kiss gently lingering.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and waited before standing. Her thinking was fuzzy, her stomach beginning to tighten. A feeling of disquiet filled her being. She mentally shook her head and breathed deeply. I need a cup of coffee, she decided, but still the unease persisted. She was far too old too have another child, and Phil was dead, dead, dead. Nothing, nothing would bring him back.
She leaned against the door frame. “Please, God, don"t let the te
