Read Online Family Skeletons by Bobbie O'Keefe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bobbie O'Keefe
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seconds?
She dried the dishes in the drainer, cleaned the
table and stove, even wiped off the handle of the refrigerator. Finally the
bathtub was full enough to suit him and he turned the faucet off.
“Thanks,” she muttered, finished the pan and put it
away, and headed down the hall to sample the new TV. She punched the set on
with the remote and checked the newspaper listings while waiting for it to warm
up. Cat purred around her ankles, probably waiting for her mistress to sit down
so she could jump into her lap. The kitten had enjoyed the London broil, cut up
into tiny pieces, even without seasoning.
Sunny looked curiously at the TV. It wasn’t doing
anything. She retrieved the remote, lined it up exactly with the set, punched
it off and then on again and still got nothing. Well, it was an ancient antenna
up there. The breeze may have moved it just enough it’d lost the signal.
She flicked the wall switch to turn on the lamp so
she could read, but that didn’t work either, and she swore under her breath.
He’d only spent two hours in here today and now nothing worked. Maybe he was
one of those fiddlers who didn’t know how to fiddle.
Impatiently she again picked up the remote. While
she waited for the TV technician to get through with his bath and undo whatever
he’d done to the lamp, she could at least get a head start on troubleshooting.
Try to get reception on other channels, check the audio, play with controls. She
punched up the volume, and then sheepishly remembered him telling her that the
lamp had to be turned on manually. That problem would only be a problem if she
had to admit to him that she’d forgotten something so simple. Nope, it wasn’t
necessary to advertise that momentary lapse. She turned to reach for the lamp’s
switch and the sudden blast of sound behind her jolted conscious thought right
out of her.
With a loud yelp she jumped and came down hard on
Cat’s tail. The animal screeched then lit out for the hall by way of the coffee
table and knocked the lamp over. It clattered to the floor, made a couple
rattling spins before it shattered, and the crescendo behind her continued. She
whirled toward the TV. Color, action, sound. Lots of sound.
Feet thundered down the stairs. Jonathan grabbed the
newel post and swiveled around, on full alert and gaze flitting everywhere. He
skidded to a stop in the parlor doorway, stared at her, and she stared back.
Soapy water drained down a muscular chest and hairy legs. Bare chest...bare
legs...bare everything.
“Are you okay?” His gaze again shot to the closed
front door, down the hall, back to her. “What made you scream? What happened?”
She said nothing. He stepped into the room and
reached toward the TV, probably for the remote that wasn’t there. It wasn’t on
the coffee table where she’d put it, either. Then he found it in the wreckage
of the lamp, picked it up and turned off the blaring television.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, returning the
remote to where it belonged. The all-knowing male shook his head at the
shortcomings of the unknowing female. “I know exactly what you did. If you’d
listened when I tried to explain, you would’ve understood that the wall switch
now operates the TV, not the lamp.” He added something that sounded like, “Save
me from,” but that was all she caught.
He looked at her and she looked at him, but she
wasn’t looking at his eyes.
It was his turn to jump.
“I—oh, I—hey—uh...” He looked madly around as if for
a foxhole to dive into. She handed him the newspaper. He covered himself with
it, circled around her and backed out of the room. He ascended the stairs with all
the dignity a naked man in his position could muster. Three steps from the top,
he must’ve realized that since he was walking away from her it was his backside
he should be shielding with the newspaper.
The bathroom door closed.
Sunny realized she was standing in the puddle he’d
left on the hall’s
She dried the dishes in the drainer, cleaned the
table and stove, even wiped off the handle of the refrigerator. Finally the
bathtub was full enough to suit him and he turned the faucet off.
“Thanks,” she muttered, finished the pan and put it
away, and headed down the hall to sample the new TV. She punched the set on
with the remote and checked the newspaper listings while waiting for it to warm
up. Cat purred around her ankles, probably waiting for her mistress to sit down
so she could jump into her lap. The kitten had enjoyed the London broil, cut up
into tiny pieces, even without seasoning.
Sunny looked curiously at the TV. It wasn’t doing
anything. She retrieved the remote, lined it up exactly with the set, punched
it off and then on again and still got nothing. Well, it was an ancient antenna
up there. The breeze may have moved it just enough it’d lost the signal.
She flicked the wall switch to turn on the lamp so
she could read, but that didn’t work either, and she swore under her breath.
He’d only spent two hours in here today and now nothing worked. Maybe he was
one of those fiddlers who didn’t know how to fiddle.
Impatiently she again picked up the remote. While
she waited for the TV technician to get through with his bath and undo whatever
he’d done to the lamp, she could at least get a head start on troubleshooting.
Try to get reception on other channels, check the audio, play with controls. She
punched up the volume, and then sheepishly remembered him telling her that the
lamp had to be turned on manually. That problem would only be a problem if she
had to admit to him that she’d forgotten something so simple. Nope, it wasn’t
necessary to advertise that momentary lapse. She turned to reach for the lamp’s
switch and the sudden blast of sound behind her jolted conscious thought right
out of her.
With a loud yelp she jumped and came down hard on
Cat’s tail. The animal screeched then lit out for the hall by way of the coffee
table and knocked the lamp over. It clattered to the floor, made a couple
rattling spins before it shattered, and the crescendo behind her continued. She
whirled toward the TV. Color, action, sound. Lots of sound.
Feet thundered down the stairs. Jonathan grabbed the
newel post and swiveled around, on full alert and gaze flitting everywhere. He
skidded to a stop in the parlor doorway, stared at her, and she stared back.
Soapy water drained down a muscular chest and hairy legs. Bare chest...bare
legs...bare everything.
“Are you okay?” His gaze again shot to the closed
front door, down the hall, back to her. “What made you scream? What happened?”
She said nothing. He stepped into the room and
reached toward the TV, probably for the remote that wasn’t there. It wasn’t on
the coffee table where she’d put it, either. Then he found it in the wreckage
of the lamp, picked it up and turned off the blaring television.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, returning the
remote to where it belonged. The all-knowing male shook his head at the
shortcomings of the unknowing female. “I know exactly what you did. If you’d
listened when I tried to explain, you would’ve understood that the wall switch
now operates the TV, not the lamp.” He added something that sounded like, “Save
me from,” but that was all she caught.
He looked at her and she looked at him, but she
wasn’t looking at his eyes.
It was his turn to jump.
“I—oh, I—hey—uh...” He looked madly around as if for
a foxhole to dive into. She handed him the newspaper. He covered himself with
it, circled around her and backed out of the room. He ascended the stairs with all
the dignity a naked man in his position could muster. Three steps from the top,
he must’ve realized that since he was walking away from her it was his backside
he should be shielding with the newspaper.
The bathroom door closed.
Sunny realized she was standing in the puddle he’d
left on the hall’s
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