Read Online Beyond the Quiet: Romantic Thriller by Brenda Hill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brenda Hill
Ads: Link
savings account in case of emergencies, had left me in debt and almost penniless.
Why? the concern been a sham? Had our entire life together been a farce?
And what happened to the money? About the time Mac had taken out the loans, he’d been so ill he hardly went anywhere. When he did, it had been with m e. So where had the money gone?
And what was I going to do?
I suddenly thought of that last good day and of his cryptic message, “Forgive the bad.” Now I knew what he meant. Couldn’t he have told me, prepared me in some way? “A toast to tomorrow,” he’d said. How could I look to tomorrow when he’d taken all my security away?
One question repeated itself in my mind, over and over: how could he have done this to me? Would I ever find an answer?
I could have stayed in bed all day, maybe the rest of my life, but pressure on my bladder forced me up. Afterward, I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, partly from habit, partly because my mouth tasted as if something had died in there. When I lifted my gown to take it off, I caught a reflection of myself and realized how haggard I looked. Why bother to get dressed? I dropped the hem and padded downstairs for some coffee.
While it was dripping, I poured a small glass of soda and gazed at the mountains through the glass doors. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds.
I closed the drapes.
***
The next couple of days I kept the drapes pulled and stared at the TV. I didn’t bother to dress. The phone rang and rang. According to the ID, Maggie called several times and so did Terry, but I didn’t answer. I resented the intrusion of their disem bodied voices over the machine.
I wanted a cigarette, but unable to face the thought of putting on clothes and going out to get some, I went searching through all my handbags, hoping an old pack would magically appear. But I found nothing, no old, bent cigarettes, not even some loose tobacco.
I’d started smoking in my teens, and over the years had worked up to two packs a day. Mac had nagged me constantly about it, but I hadn’t listened. As far as I was concerned, I could get through anything if I had my Diet Coke and cigarettes.
Shanna had always hated it, dramatically waving her hand in front of her face when I lit up. When she became a teenager, she spouted statistics about second-hand smoke. I sympathized, but I didn’t put them down. Finally, one day, she looked at me with her big, brown eyes and asked, “How can you expect me to stay away from drugs when you smoke two packs of cigarettes a day?” That had done it. That had been over ten years ago and I hadn’t smoked since.
Finally, giving up the search, I went down to the pantry and dug around until I found an old package of Mac’s cherry licorice. The ropes were glued tightly together, but I pulled and tugged, ripping off a jagged strand and sticking it in my mouth.
***
The third day Stan called. I heard his voice on the answering machine, warning me that if I didn’t talk to him, he was going to break down the door.
Damn. Why couldn’t people leave me alone? Resenting the intrusio n, I punched the answer button.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m okay. I didn’t stick my head in the oven or throw myself in front of a moving truck. It might hurt and I’m too much of a coward to risk it.”
“Thank God you’re all right. Unfortunately, I had to run down to San Diego day before yesterday, couldn’t get out of it, but I’m here now. So what gives? Maggie says you won’t talk to her.”
“Tell her I love her but to leave me alone. You too. Right now I just want to be by myself.”
“Maggie and I are going to bring something for you to eat. You’re skinny enough already. You can’t afford to skip meals, which I know you’re doing. You don’t have to do anything except eat.”
“For God’s sake, Stan, don’t yo u understand English? Leave me—”
“You might as well realize,” he interrupted,
Why? the concern been a sham? Had our entire life together been a farce?
And what happened to the money? About the time Mac had taken out the loans, he’d been so ill he hardly went anywhere. When he did, it had been with m e. So where had the money gone?
And what was I going to do?
I suddenly thought of that last good day and of his cryptic message, “Forgive the bad.” Now I knew what he meant. Couldn’t he have told me, prepared me in some way? “A toast to tomorrow,” he’d said. How could I look to tomorrow when he’d taken all my security away?
One question repeated itself in my mind, over and over: how could he have done this to me? Would I ever find an answer?
I could have stayed in bed all day, maybe the rest of my life, but pressure on my bladder forced me up. Afterward, I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, partly from habit, partly because my mouth tasted as if something had died in there. When I lifted my gown to take it off, I caught a reflection of myself and realized how haggard I looked. Why bother to get dressed? I dropped the hem and padded downstairs for some coffee.
While it was dripping, I poured a small glass of soda and gazed at the mountains through the glass doors. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds.
I closed the drapes.
***
The next couple of days I kept the drapes pulled and stared at the TV. I didn’t bother to dress. The phone rang and rang. According to the ID, Maggie called several times and so did Terry, but I didn’t answer. I resented the intrusion of their disem bodied voices over the machine.
I wanted a cigarette, but unable to face the thought of putting on clothes and going out to get some, I went searching through all my handbags, hoping an old pack would magically appear. But I found nothing, no old, bent cigarettes, not even some loose tobacco.
I’d started smoking in my teens, and over the years had worked up to two packs a day. Mac had nagged me constantly about it, but I hadn’t listened. As far as I was concerned, I could get through anything if I had my Diet Coke and cigarettes.
Shanna had always hated it, dramatically waving her hand in front of her face when I lit up. When she became a teenager, she spouted statistics about second-hand smoke. I sympathized, but I didn’t put them down. Finally, one day, she looked at me with her big, brown eyes and asked, “How can you expect me to stay away from drugs when you smoke two packs of cigarettes a day?” That had done it. That had been over ten years ago and I hadn’t smoked since.
Finally, giving up the search, I went down to the pantry and dug around until I found an old package of Mac’s cherry licorice. The ropes were glued tightly together, but I pulled and tugged, ripping off a jagged strand and sticking it in my mouth.
***
The third day Stan called. I heard his voice on the answering machine, warning me that if I didn’t talk to him, he was going to break down the door.
Damn. Why couldn’t people leave me alone? Resenting the intrusio n, I punched the answer button.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m okay. I didn’t stick my head in the oven or throw myself in front of a moving truck. It might hurt and I’m too much of a coward to risk it.”
“Thank God you’re all right. Unfortunately, I had to run down to San Diego day before yesterday, couldn’t get out of it, but I’m here now. So what gives? Maggie says you won’t talk to her.”
“Tell her I love her but to leave me alone. You too. Right now I just want to be by myself.”
“Maggie and I are going to bring something for you to eat. You’re skinny enough already. You can’t afford to skip meals, which I know you’re doing. You don’t have to do anything except eat.”
“For God’s sake, Stan, don’t yo u understand English? Leave me—”
“You might as well realize,” he interrupted,
Similar Books
