Read Online Mission: Out of Control by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online

grave.’”
    Oh, see, when she let it, the past just took over, and she began to babble. She rolled her eyes, fighting the burn in them. “Sorry.”
    But his eyes had gone strangely gentle. “She was the fifth person in the room the other night. Can I ask what happened?”
    She wouldn’t have answered, couldn’t have answered, but his voice, low and soft, seemed so…genuine. So willing to listen…to her.
    Not Vonya.
    Not Veronica.
    Shoot, even if it was an act, she couldn’t help herself. “Savannah was my older sister, by two years. She died when I was fifteen, from leukemia. Actually, she died because her body rejected my kidney, but probably it had more to do with the lethal combination of antirejection drugs in her body. And the last-ditch efforts…” She lifted a shoulder, turned to look out the window. The plane backed away from the gate.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œIt was a long time ago. But sometimes I still miss her.”
    Oh, why had she said that? Now he’d pat her arm or something, or maybe even start acting—how? It wasn’t like she even knew him well enough to guess.
    Although suddenly, a part of her wanted to. Especially when he said, “She used to like to swing, huh?”
    She turned to him. “How did you know that?”
    â€œYou were singing on the swing at Harthaven. It drifted in my window.”
    He’d been watching her? She let that soak in for a moment before nodding. “She loved to swing. And dress up in our mother’s old clothes. And sing the blues.” And now she felt as if she’d just opened up her chest for him to take a good peek.
    He gave her a long look, finally nodding. “She sounds like someone I would have enjoyed knowing.”
    The plane engines revved and they taxied down the runway. She had the strange urge to reach over and take his hand.
    Like that made sense.
    The plane leveled off, reached cruising altitude. Ronie turned on her iPod, about to slip in her earbuds, when he leaned over to her. “So, if you love the blues so much, why the pop stuff? How did you get into the Vonya act?”
    â€œTalent Night, my second year at grad school. Tommy D, who was my best friend even then, wanted me to sing. It was for charity—we were raising money for the Harvard Square Homeless Shelter, and since I was involved, I thought, sure, I could sing something. But I just couldn’t…”
    â€œYou couldn’t bring yourself to sing the blues.”
    She met his eyes, caught inside their compassion toolong. “I came up with a funny song, something Tommy and I put together, then created a costume. It felt easier, you know, to be someone else. I probably overplayed it, and, well, Vonya was a hit. The songs were simpler back then—pop love songs, just for fun. But pretty soon Tommy had me booked in other venues. It sort of took on a life of its own, and in the beginning it was all fun. I gave everything I earned to the shelter, and it gave me a chance to sing. But then Tommy got me a gig on a late-night show, and it was all over from there. I could either finish my master’s degree or become Vonya. I thought it would be nice to take a break from school, so I dropped out. I didn’t mean for it to go this far, but…I have my reasons.”
    He seemed to be mulling over her last words. Whoops, maybe she shouldn’t have suggested ulterior motives. “Do you write your own music?”
    She couldn’t stop the smile that quirked the side of her mouth. If he only knew. “I used to. Now Tommy chooses them—we have a stable of songwriters. Only recently, the songs have become a bit…”
    â€œMore seductive?”
    She bit her lip. “I don’t necessarily like my new stuff. But it’s Vonya, you know, and…” She lifted a shoulder. “She opens doors.”
    â€œYou sound like you’re playing a