Read Online Balefire by Barrett - Free Book Online Page B

thought about that. I just assumed Stacey would always feel free to talk to me about anything. Do you think I should call her?”
    “She loves you but is confused and worried about you. So am I. What are you going to do?” Diane took a long swallow of wine and viewed Silke with a furrowed brow.
    Silke knew the look. A familiar queasy feeling rose up inside her, then a flash. She felt rage tightening around her neck. Running away to Belize seemed a logical a solution, but eventually she’d have to go back and deal with it. Maybe for the first few days at home Rachel would be solicitous, but eventually the bickering would resume. Last year, the fighting had escalated slowly until the incident eight months ago. She didn’t fully trust their current shaky peace treaty.
    “I don’t know. There’s no turning back time. And if I’m honest with myself I will never trust Rachel again—I can’t.”
    “I understand. Let me ask another question. What would you like to do?”
    The air she held in her lungs escaped. “I’d just like to be free and do my art. I . . . I thought by now that Rachel would tire of the status quo and tell me to leave. If she did, I’d go in a New York minute.”
    “Where would you go?”
    “I’d move into my studio. There’s plenty of room and it wouldn’t take much to fix it up.” Silke felt a pleasant sensation of peace when she thought about her hideaway.
    “Can you afford it?” Diane used a small towel to wipe the already clean counter.
    “Sure, the rent is less than my half of the mortgage on the house. Be tween my salary from the university and a few sales of my sculptures, I think I’d be okay. I could take in private students if I had to.”
    Diane went to stir the sauce on the stove. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought, which begs the question . . . Why don’t you just do it?”
    Dread always showed up like an icy cold fist in Silke’s chest. When confronted with the obvious, she always defaulted to the passive. She gulped the last of her wine. “I’m afraid. Not that I can’t take care of my self. I’m afraid of Rachel’s reaction.”
    “Oh, honey. We have to fix that. Can we talk to Mark about it?” Diane’s determined expression both reassured and caused her to waver.
 
    THE MOSQUITOES WERE fierce as Kirin made her way back to the small bungalow at the Land’s End resort. Kenrick and his cousin, Arthur, were lost in memories of “remember when . . .” on the screen porch. She didn’t think she could stay awake for any more stories. The sun, the surf, and the previous six months of nonstop activity had taken a toll. The sun was just setting, and she knew she couldn’t keep her eyes open much lon ger. Cousin Arthur had a friend who was willing to drive them inland to talk to some of the local farmers. He wanted to get an early start before it got too hot, so she made her excuses and left.
    She took a quick shower and climbed between the sheets after crank ing the fan up to high. Even after all the water she drank with dinner, her lips were chapped, and her body parched. Her body relaxed quicker than her brain. She closed her eyes and formatted the article in her mind. She’d compare and contrast recovery between lands devoted to tourists vs. ag ricultural areas. Clearly, the third world country with limited resources needed to prioritize. Long-term infrastructure problems, temporarily cured by immediate cash flow from the tourist trade was a potential part of the puzzle.
    As her eyelids grew heavier, she floated and wondered how her new friends at the resort were faring. Odd, but she missed Silke. The memory of her surfaced: her unconstrained, grounded demeanor was transforma tive for Kirin. By comparison, Kirin could barely exhale most days because of the self-imposed strangling of schedules and deadlines, always playing catch-up. Silke Dyson was unaffected. How does she maintain that cool?
     
    Chapter Eight
 
    THE YOUNG MAN set the small box