Tom Hubbard Is Dead

  Chapter Seven

  The splash from a passing pickup truck soaked the back of Carrie Phillips’s skirt. She remained unfazed however and, ignoring the driver’s inconsiderate ways, stayed focused on the task at hand. Keeping one foot on the street for balance, she stretched her body through the back door of the small car and struggled to undo a stubborn snap on the harness of her son’s car seat. She tried to remain calm while wrestling with the clasp, yet her son had an alternative plan. The boy, using his tiny fingers, noodled at the pile of crimson-colored curly hair on the top of her head. Suddenly, the fidgety child had had it with waiting and he tugged on a single curl. “Tommy, please,” she tried to hide her annoyance. The boy’s lips began to tremble. Sensing his impending tears, she leaned in further to better grip the strap and the clasp. Her foot slipped on the wet pavement and she inadvertently tightened instead of loosening the harness around the boy’s chest. This sudden discomfort provided the excuse the boy needed and, interpreting the tug as punishment, Tommy burst into tears.

  “Oh, Mother of God,” Carrie said. “Please. I’m sorry, Tommy. Mommy didn’t mean it. I know you’re tired. Mommy’s tired, too, but we’ll only be here for a minute.” She brushed his blonde hair back from his forehead and kissed him on the cheek.

  “There, there,” she said, succeeding in freeing the child.

  The boy climbed down from the car seat, crawled across the back seat of the car and then lowered himself onto the pavement. He rubbed his damp cheeks.

  “Will you be a big boy for Mommy when we get inside?”

  The boy looked up at his mother, blinked his blue eyes and confidently nodded his head up and down.