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night. And no matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to stop him.
    “Post-traumatic stress,” the shrink had told her. “It’s to be expected after such a near-death experience. It’s perfectly normal.”
    Well, it might be normal, she had decided, but knowing that didn’t really help much at one or two in the morning when you awoke in terror ... living the horror over again and again.
    “I’m sorry, Gran,” she said, trying to take deep breaths. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “Don’t be silly. I been woke up plenty of times before. Your sister, Vidalia, used to wake me up every bloomin’ time there was a thunderstorm. Remember?”
    Savannah nodded and wiped her hand across her forehead, pushing the perspiration-wet hair away from her face. “It’s a wonder you got any sleep at all, considering that outta nine kids, at least one of them had a nightmare every night.”
    “I didn’t mind.” Granny rubbed her back. “Are you okay?”
    Savannah tried to banish the bloody, violent images from her mind. “Sure. I’m all right.”
    Then Savannah felt a tiny hand slip into hers as a munchkin climbed up onto the bed beside her.
    “Did you have a bad dream, Aunt Savannah?” Jillian asked as she snuggled close to her.
    Savannah considered denying it. But she believed it was best to tell children the truth as often as possible. Maybe not the whole truth, but ...
    “I did, babycakes,” she told her little niece. “But I’m fine now. Don’t you worry.”
    “I’ll sleep here beside you,” Jillian said, pulling Savannah down and making her lie next to her. “And then you won’t have any more bad dreams. You know ... like you did for me when I had the scary dream about the neighbor’s mean old cat. You let me sleep with you and that made me feel all better.”
    Savannah vaguely remembered the deed that had meant so much to her niece. But the innocence and depth of the child’s gratitude touched her heart.
    She lay down on her side and pulled the little girl against her chest. The sweetness of the contact seemed to heal the wounds ... the deepest ones that still ached.
    And just as she had wrapped her arm around her niece, from behind her grandmother’s arms slipped around her waist, holding her tight.
    Surrounded by the warmth and comfort of her family members, old and young alike, Savannah drifted into sleep once again.
    And this time it was a deep sleep
    No monsters, no bogeymen, and no armed intruders. Only love and peace.

Chapter 3
    W hen Dirk arrived the next morning, Savannah was in her backyard garden, examining the damage done to her roses by her cherub of a flower girl niece. Fortunately, Jillian had picked as many dandelions as roses, so the benefits balanced the losses.
    Savannah was kneeling beside the mangled Mr. Lincoln bush with its velvety crimson blossoms, debating whether to give him a serious pruning or just leave him to heal on his own. She’d just decided to leave it up to the resident rose expert, Granny, when she looked up and saw Dirk emerging from her back door.
    He had a slightly desperate look on his face, like a fellow who had just run some sort of gauntlet and barely escaped with his hide intact.
    He hurried over to her, pulled her to her feet, and gave her a brief hug and kiss. “Wow,” he said, breathlessly, “I don’t know how you take that bunch. The kids are bad enough, but the grown-ups! They’re the scary ones!”
    “Poor baby,” she said, grinning up at him. “What did those mean, awful Reids do to you?”
    “Vidalia asked me if I’d settle a fight between her and Butch by telling him that he shouldn’t bring nudie magazines home, and Marietta asked me if I liked that purple leopard-print miniskirt of hers. I hate it when she asks me stuff like that. I never know what her intentions are.”
    “Where Mari’s intentions are concerned, always expect the worst. You’ll probably be right. And stay out of Vi’s and Butch’s fights.”
    “I remember you