Read Online Cruel as the Grave by Dean James - Free Book Online

say—because all of that’s really between me and your father anyway, and we’ve made our peace. I reckon I lost more in the long run than you or your father, because I cost myself a son and a granddaughter, and there’s not much I can do now to rectify that. Though I can’t make up for all the mistakes I made in the past, I can set things to rights about your grandmother’s death, however, after all these years,” he added obscurely.
    She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, because the tone of the remark puzzled her as much as its content.
    Watching her, Henry shook his head and said, “There’s time enough for that later. Just something I should have taken care of long before now.” He patted her hand affectionately. “In the meantime, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
    Maggie inclined her head warily. “Yes, sir?”
    “Your father tells me that you have the same taste in reading as your grandmother did,” he said.
    She smiled, and Henry’s hand tightened upon hers as she replied. “Yes, sir, I could hardly believe it when I walked into her room and saw all those bookshelves just stuffed with books by most of my favorite writers. That, and seeing her portrait, really made me feel like I had come home, in a sense.”
    Her grandfather smiled sadly. “I’m delighted to hear that, because I want you, from now on, to consider all those books yours.”
    He smiled again, happily this time, at Maggie’s gasp of surprise and incoherent words of denial. “Now, my dear, don’t argue with me over this. It’s not like I’m really giving them to you. I know your grandmother would love for you to have them all—it’s more of a trust I’m passing on to you than an actual gift. What do you say to that?”
    She thought back to what her father had said to her. Why deny her grandfather the obvious pleasure of this gift? Especially when it would mean so much to her in the years to come? “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice husky with unshed tears. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek again and give him a hug, resting lightly against him. He returned the pressure briefly. Maggie drew back.
    Seeing the tiredness in his eyes, she stood up slowly. “I think I’d better go so you can get some rest. This has certainly been a busy day for us all.” Awkwardly, this was all she could think of to say.
    Hemy McLendon inclined his head on the pillow. “I think you’re right,” he replied. “I’m glad you and your father came home, child.”
    “So am I, Grandfather,” she said, doing her best to hold back tears. He looked so frail and so old to her.
    As Maggie moved back away from the bed, she stepped against the bedside chair, which in turn caused something propped against it to slide to the floor with a muffled thud. “What on earth?” she muttered as she bent over to retrieve a baseball bat. As she picked it up, she saw that the varnish that had once protected all the names hastily scrawled on the surface was flaking off here and there.
    Henry laughed. “That’s just an old souvenir your father got out of his room—at my request. I daresay he’d forgotten all about it, but that’s the bat he was using when he hit a home run his senior year in high school. He won the state championship for his team with that bat—it was the only home run he ever hit.”
    Maggie knew that her father was a big baseball fan. Very little ever interfered with his watching games on the weekends, and he attended as many Astros home games as possible. He had never talked much about playing himself.
    Smiling fondly, she propped the bat once more against the chair. “I guess he’ll be back to get it later.” Feeling something on her hand, Maggie inspected her palm and discovered a few small flakes of varnish from the bat. She brushed her hand absentmindedly against her skirt.
    “I imagine so,” Henry replied tiredly.
    Sylvia stepped forward then. “You really need to get some rest now, Uncle