Read Online My Secret to Tell by Natalie D. Richards - Free Book Online
Authors: Natalie D. Richards
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Chelsea’s room a little. Thought I could make her bed and leave her a note or something.”
“You and your cleaning. My office is spotless.”
“Chelsea loves it when I clean. She always says she’ll return the favor when the frog grows hair, whatever that means.”
Joel laughs. “It means it’ll never happen. Daffy says it too. I think their mother used to say that. Hey, I talked to the admissions dean at Duke last week. We’re trying to set up a round of golf, so we talked about you. He’s really looking forward to reviewing your application.”
My application. To Duke. Mental images of the chapel and long stretches of velvety grass flip through my head. It’s been my dream to go to Duke since the campus tour with Landon. Back then, I wanted to be a marine biologist, but back then, Mom was fine with that.
She had my brother.
The legacy she gave up at eighteen—when she wound up pregnant with my very blue-collar father’s baby—was all turning right. I remember her slim arm tucked through my brother’s on that tour, her eyes bright as she said, “Mama thought there’d be no doctors and lawyers from my branch of the family tree, but she didn’t see you coming, Landon.”
Probably a good thing Grandma didn’t see. She had a way of rubbing things in until they left a mark.
“You look lost in space.” Joel chuckles. “Don’t let it scare you. It’s a good thing.”
“It’s incredible. I just thought you were doing a reference letter. I never expected you to talk to the dean.”
“Well, Emmie, I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re cut out to go all the way at Duke if that’s what you choose, though it’s not a bad idea to change schools either. We can talk about it later, but for now, you’ll have someone keeping an eye out for you.”
Hope floats into my chest, bubble light. “Really? Joel, you’re amazing.”
“Well, it’s no guarantee. You’ll still be in the application process, but greasing the wheel a little never hurt, right?”
Joel picks up his keys and Chelsea’s bag. He tells me he’ll drop the bag by Ann Street Inn, but I can’t do anything but smile.
“I’m going to head out. Don’t clean all day, you hear me?”
“I do.”
He lumbers to his feet but seems to hesitate before heading to the door. “Emmie?”
“Yeah?”
Joel looks down, knocking his knuckles softly into the doorframe like he’s not sure how to phrase this. When he looks up, his eyes are too bright. “If you see Dink, tell him I’m sorry. I said some things—” He trails off, shaking his head. “Just tell him I’m sorry. I do want to hear his side of this, and I’ll do whatever I can to help with this situation.”
“I’ll tell him.”
My smile is in place, but I’m cold all over again. If Joel thinks he needs to offer his help, then I might be wrong about things working out. Deacon might end up arrested.
• • •
He’s not by the Rum Baby. Tourists have descended on the cemetery. I have to step around a couple dressed in store-creased T-shirts from one of the beach shops across the bridge. Next, I smile at a pair of women with their hands full of papers from the Beaufort Historical Society. As much as I wish Deacon would show, the wait is probably a good thing. I feel like a pot that’s boiling too hard, so I probably need the time to settle.
I also need answers in case he tries to weasel out of coming with me today. I can’t hide him forever, because no matter how much I believe him, I don’t know that he’s innocent. My shoulders tense. I want to do what’s right, but what does that mean? Going to the police sounds right. But standing by a friend in trouble sounds right too, doesn’t it? Especially when you know that friend has always, always stood by you.
I close my eyes, flashing back to the animal shelter when Deacon got me in with Dr. Atwood. I was too young, and he stood right with me outside the office door. Three Labradors were bouncing and
“You and your cleaning. My office is spotless.”
“Chelsea loves it when I clean. She always says she’ll return the favor when the frog grows hair, whatever that means.”
Joel laughs. “It means it’ll never happen. Daffy says it too. I think their mother used to say that. Hey, I talked to the admissions dean at Duke last week. We’re trying to set up a round of golf, so we talked about you. He’s really looking forward to reviewing your application.”
My application. To Duke. Mental images of the chapel and long stretches of velvety grass flip through my head. It’s been my dream to go to Duke since the campus tour with Landon. Back then, I wanted to be a marine biologist, but back then, Mom was fine with that.
She had my brother.
The legacy she gave up at eighteen—when she wound up pregnant with my very blue-collar father’s baby—was all turning right. I remember her slim arm tucked through my brother’s on that tour, her eyes bright as she said, “Mama thought there’d be no doctors and lawyers from my branch of the family tree, but she didn’t see you coming, Landon.”
Probably a good thing Grandma didn’t see. She had a way of rubbing things in until they left a mark.
“You look lost in space.” Joel chuckles. “Don’t let it scare you. It’s a good thing.”
“It’s incredible. I just thought you were doing a reference letter. I never expected you to talk to the dean.”
“Well, Emmie, I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re cut out to go all the way at Duke if that’s what you choose, though it’s not a bad idea to change schools either. We can talk about it later, but for now, you’ll have someone keeping an eye out for you.”
Hope floats into my chest, bubble light. “Really? Joel, you’re amazing.”
“Well, it’s no guarantee. You’ll still be in the application process, but greasing the wheel a little never hurt, right?”
Joel picks up his keys and Chelsea’s bag. He tells me he’ll drop the bag by Ann Street Inn, but I can’t do anything but smile.
“I’m going to head out. Don’t clean all day, you hear me?”
“I do.”
He lumbers to his feet but seems to hesitate before heading to the door. “Emmie?”
“Yeah?”
Joel looks down, knocking his knuckles softly into the doorframe like he’s not sure how to phrase this. When he looks up, his eyes are too bright. “If you see Dink, tell him I’m sorry. I said some things—” He trails off, shaking his head. “Just tell him I’m sorry. I do want to hear his side of this, and I’ll do whatever I can to help with this situation.”
“I’ll tell him.”
My smile is in place, but I’m cold all over again. If Joel thinks he needs to offer his help, then I might be wrong about things working out. Deacon might end up arrested.
• • •
He’s not by the Rum Baby. Tourists have descended on the cemetery. I have to step around a couple dressed in store-creased T-shirts from one of the beach shops across the bridge. Next, I smile at a pair of women with their hands full of papers from the Beaufort Historical Society. As much as I wish Deacon would show, the wait is probably a good thing. I feel like a pot that’s boiling too hard, so I probably need the time to settle.
I also need answers in case he tries to weasel out of coming with me today. I can’t hide him forever, because no matter how much I believe him, I don’t know that he’s innocent. My shoulders tense. I want to do what’s right, but what does that mean? Going to the police sounds right. But standing by a friend in trouble sounds right too, doesn’t it? Especially when you know that friend has always, always stood by you.
I close my eyes, flashing back to the animal shelter when Deacon got me in with Dr. Atwood. I was too young, and he stood right with me outside the office door. Three Labradors were bouncing and
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