Read Online Fair Play by Deirdre Martin - Free Book Online

asked, glancing slyly at Theresa out of the corner of her eye.
    â€œMa, I already know Michael. He’s a client.” She was working hard to keep the annoyance she was feeling out of her voice.
    â€œHe’s single,” her mother continued, rolling up a piece of cappicola and putting it on the plate.
    Theresa looked at her sister-in-law imploringly, but it was clear she wasn’t going to get any assistance from that quarter. There was only one possible rejoinder. “So?” It was pathetic, but right now she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    â€œSo he’s nice. And Italian, ” her mother practically sang.
    â€œ So? ” Theresa repeated.
    â€œForget it, Ma,” her sister-in-law called out to Theresa’s mother. “She don’t wanna hear it.”
    â€œNo, I don’t,” said Theresa. “Did it ever occur to you two busybodies that I might not want to go near a professional hockey player with a ten-foot pole?”
    â€œI don’t know why you still act like it was such a trauma,” said Debbie offhandedly as she sliced a cucumber. “I mean, it’s not like you were actually raped.”
    Vicki looked up from her coloring. “Mom, what’s—”
    â€œNothing,” Debbie cut in. “You just concentrate on your coloring.”
    But to Theresa, who felt as though her sister-in-law had just kicked her in the teeth, it was something. She crouched down beside her niece, stroking the girl’s thick brown hair.
    â€œVicki, would you and Philly mind going into the living room to play for a few minutes? I need to talk to Mommy and Grandma privately.”
    â€œOoookay.” Vicki huffed, reluctantly picking up her coloring book and crayons as she followed her brother out of the room. Theresa waited until she was certain they were out of earshot before sliding into the chair Vicki had vacated. Debbie was family. They’d known each other for years. So why was she so worried her voice might crack with anger?
    â€œWhat you just said really hurt me, Deb.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œLet me finish.” Theresa could feel the walls of her throat closing in. Please, God, she prayed, let me be able to get the words out without crying. “Have you ever had a man force his tongue into your mouth when you didn’t want him to?”
    Debbie was silent.
    â€œHow about having a man grope your breasts against your will, or stick his hand up your skirt to try to shove a finger inside you?”
    â€œTheresa.” Her mother’s voice was anxious.
    â€œThat happened to me,” Theresa continued in a quivering voice. “I was also punched in the face and called a bitch and a whore. But according to you, none of that counts.”
    Debbie’s eyes darted away as her face colored red with mortification. “That’s not what I said.”
    Theresa began to tremble. “No, but it’s what you implied, whether you realize it or not.”
    â€œ Cara. ” Theresa’s mother’s voice was gentle as she approached her from behind and placed two loving hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “No one doubts that little Russian farabutto hurt you, or questions why you might have a hard time trusting. But Michael’s not like that.”
    Theresa turned to look up into her mother’s eyes. “How do you know?” she asked plaintively. “He brings you a plate of ziti and you know his life story?”
    â€œI just know,” her mother insisted stubbornly.
    â€œWell, I don’t,” Theresa replied. “And I would appreciate it if you quit playing matchmaker.”
    Her mother muttered something under her breath—a prayer for Theresa’s obstinate soul, no doubt—and doubling back to the stove, handed her the now completed plate of antipasto. “Would you bring this out to the table and call the men into the dining