Read Online Of Dubious and Questionable Memory by Rachel McMillan - Free Book Online Page A

the antithesis of Miri’s grand Boston Street. The clouds were heavy with the promise of snow, and the breeze whispered around, a cadence that matched the rhythm of the carts and the horses and the automobiles swishing out of my way.
    I took the last tired steps up the front walkway. Opening the door, I heard rustling in the back of the house.
    As I followed the noise in the direction of the kitchen, I collided with Ray. My nose found his cheek. There was a smear of something there, sticky to my touch. He wore a light cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows under his suspenders, the two top buttons customarily undone and sugar on his face.
    â€œJemima! There you are!” His smile was as bright as the electric marquis at the Elgin Theatre. He clasped my hand, our fingers sticking together. He tugged me into the kitchen where, on the counter, a dozen jars were filled to their brims with lemon jam.
    â€œWhere did you learn to make jam?” No burnt salt concoction here, and the besmirched kitchen had been scrubbed from top to bottom. I licked a stray spoon. “Ray DeLuca, this is delicious.”
    â€œMy Nonna made it when Vi and I were little,” he explained. “She taught me how. Said I could impress a girl someday.”
    I leaned in a bit and brushed away the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “This might be the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me. Making lemon jam out of season.”
    â€œIf you could try it, so could I. I went to three different grocers before finding lemon at St. Lawrence Market.” He ducked his head a little. “I even consulted that book of yours.” Flora Merriweather’s name sounded out of place in his voice.
    I took a deep breath. “I wish we never quarreled the other night.”
    Ray turned from me a moment and began twisting lids on each jar with his long fingers. I took a few and helped. There we stood, side by side, me stealing a glance at his profile and long, downturned lashes now and then.
    He said, slowly, “You have no idea how badly you hurt me, Jem.”
    I blinked. “Hurt you?”
    â€œThinking that I was angry over the state of our kitchen and missed dinner.”
    â€œYou’re right to have an expectation for our home, Ray.”
    He shook his head. “I didn’t notice the kitchen! I just noticed the door open and you gone. And you didn’t come home for hours.”
    â€œI hadn’t thought of—”
    â€œYou didn’t think of us. Broken dishes, a stove still sputtering, and the door open. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to surmise what could have happened!”
    I kept my eyes on my jam pots. “That’s why you were so angry.”
    He nodded. “I know someday there’s going to be a case that will make you step into something dangerous. It’s not going to get any easier. But I can’t live with you thinking that I’ll be home waiting for dinner on the stove, or that my first thought might be that you left a mess. I was driven right mad. Is this the day, I wonder, when it won’t just be some silly rooster? Is this the day when she’ll go too far and the best part of my life will be taken away from me?”
    Heat sprang to my cheeks. “You were worried about me.”
    He blew out a breath. “I should have just talked to you about it. I was foolish enough to want to hurt you the way you hurt me. That’s why I acted the way I did at Jasper’s party.” He trailed off, bit his tongue, and then lightened his voice. “If you start making perfect dinners and keeping house, then what about me? You’ll start noticing when I saunter in late. You’ll start noticing when I fall asleep on the sofa with my shoes on.” He smiled sheepishly. “The only expectation I have when I walk up the step is that hopefully there will be a Jem inside. Sometimes you’ll be off looking for your missing suffragettes,