Read Online Why the Sky Is Blue by Susan Meissner - Free Book Online

ever catch the man who had hurt me.
    Dan and I hadn’t really discussed what to tell the kids about Philip Wells. I decided to tell her what the police told me, hoping it would allay any fears that my life was still in danger.
    Her eyes widened as I explained as vaguely but truthfully as I could about Philip Wells and his unfortunate wife.
    “How could he have done such a thing?” Katie said, shaking her head. “He didn’t even know you.”
    I told her not to dwell on it, that I was not dwelling on it. I told her to be glad he confessed. And that he would never be able to hurt anyone again.
    Seeing that she was troubled, I wondered if I should have said nothing except that the police did catch him and then left it at that. But I wanted Katie to know Philip Wells had been relieved I had not died. It softened my attacker’s wickedness. I desperately needed this less sinister image in my head if I was going to carry the child in my body and not go crazy. And I knew if I didn’t miscarry, Katie would eventually have to be told I was pregnant. I would want her to know this about the man who had hurt me if it came to that.
    Seeing my mom at the airport waiting expectantly for us and smiling from ear to ear triggered something inside me—some latent, post crisis response—and I began to cry even before I reached her arms. I was stupid not to have let her come when she wanted to.
    She just hugged me tight and didn’t let up until I began to pull away first, many moments later. Katie and Stu had long since ended their embrace and were standing there watching the tearful exchange between wounded daughter and compassionate mother.
    “Hey, Stu...” I finally said to my stepdad, in a weepy voice that I hated to be displaying in front of him.
    As he folded me into his arms, I again found myself in an embrace that I did not wish to end. I began to cry again. I couldn’t believe it. In fact, I was crying harder wrapped up in Stu’s big arms and wide chest than I had been with my mother. Stuart was stroking my hair and patting my back and saying all the things fathers say to their little girls when they’re hurt, like “It’s all right, honey,” and “It’s over now,” and “You’re my brave girl,” and “I am so proud of you.”
    I finally pulled away and began apologizing profusely, which neither one of them was interested in hearing. I had upset Katie, something I had not wanted to do, and as we started to walk away, I saw tears in her eyes. When my mom put her arm around her, she laid her head on her grandmother’s shoulder for a brief moment; I couldn’t hold in a shudder. Stu noticed this too and squeezed my shoulder.
    By the time we reached their home, I had recovered and thankfully so, because Matt was waiting at the house for us.
    “I heard Mom had made a great lunch, and I didn’t want to miss out on a free meal,” he said as he and I hugged on the front porch. It was really good to see him again. I was reminded of simpler times when we were young and the world seemed big and inviting, not bizarre and dangerous.
    After lunch, Matt headed back to the university with a promise to be back for supper. We decided to have some ice cream in Stuart’s study among his scores of books and magazines, every classical music recording ever made—so it seemed, and Stu’s trinkets from the ancient past.
    I sat in the chair my mom usually occupied, noticing that four books with bookmarks were arranged on the table next to it. Off to the side was her current Bible, open to the book of Amos.
    I had always loved Stu’s study. It was more like a museum to me than anything else. It looked slightly disorganized but Stu remarkably always knew where everything was. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were not only lined with books but also with old spoons, vases, and necklaces from his many digs. Rocks, stones, and fragments of pottery were scattered everywhere.
    Even though it has never been my home, I felt comfortable in my