Read Online Casting Samson by Melinda Hammond - Free Book Online Page B

her, although she would willingly have done so. Nevertheless she’d thought that when he asked her to move in with him it had been because he thought she was special.
    Looking back, it was hard to believe he wanted anything other than a housekeeper. And the depressing thing was that she’d been very happy to run around after him. Between her full-time job at Appletons and her evening job as a waitress, she’d washed and ironed and cleaned that chrome-and-glass apartment as if her life depended on it. She’d run herself ragged to earn Bernard’s approval but it still wasn’t enough to make him love her, “forsaking all others.” Oh, he had praised her, told her that she was “The One,” something special in his life, and he had made her feel special. When he took her to bed he told her she was the best ever, and when they went out together she was on top of the world. She wanted to shout out look at me—he could take his pick of any number of girls but he’s chosen me!
    Now of course she realised that some of the looks she received when she was on his arm might have been envy, but most were merely mild curiosity to see just how long she would last. The idea that she’d turned herself into a doormat weighed on her spirits almost as much as Bernard’s defection. If she hadn’t been so weak, then perhaps he might have liked her more.
    Stan Kemerton watched his daughter with growing dismay. There were dark circles under her eyes and she seldom laughed anymore. He wanted to hug her to him and tell her that everything would be all right, but she was too old for that now, and all he could do was watch and pray.
    When the rain eventually stopped and the sun emerged, he took the tea towel from Deborah’s hands and turned her toward the door.
    “I’ll finish off here, love. You get yourself out for some fresh air.”
    “But you were going to sit with Mum…”
    “Your mother’s asleep, so I may as well make myself useful here in the kitchen. And a good walk will do you good,” he growled. “Put some colour back in your cheeks.”
    Deb read the concern in his eyes and didn’t argue.
    “Okay, Dad.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “I won’t be long.”
    She put on her trainers and walked out into the sunshine. The grey blanket of cloud had yielded to a clear sky with only a few wisps of cloud to break up the vast expanse of blue. At the gate she hesitated. The ground was sodden from the recent rain, and the track into Moreton was paved and well drained, but she would inevitably meet people that way, so she turned away from the village and set off along the riverside track.
    The long grass slapped at her ankles, soaking her jeans and seeping into her trainers, but she paid no heed to it, giving her attention to a skylark trilling overhead. There was a flash of blue across the river as a kingfisher plunged into the water. Deborah remembered what it was like to walk here, her heart swelling with happiness at such sights and sounds, but now all she felt inside was a dull ache. She was trying so hard to be cheerful, to forget about Bernard, but every day was a struggle. She felt drained, too tired even to cry.
    She walked on towards the great yew tree that had given its name to the restaurant. The ground was much more uneven here, full of grassy mounds and deep dips, evidence of old ruins buried beneath the soil. The meandering river had worn away the bank until there was just a narrow strip of grass between the track and the water. Deb’s feet slipped on the muddy path and she wished she’d worn her boots, for her trainers had no grip at all.
    She was just wondering how much farther she would walk when it happened. She put her foot on the grassy edge of the path to avoid a large puddle, and the sodden ground gave way, tumbling her into the Fleetwater. The shock of the cold river made her gasp, and she inhaled a mouthful of muddy water.
    The recent rains had swelled the river and it was too deep to stand. It was