Read Online Rock Harbor Series - 03 - Into the Deep by Colleen Coble - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colleen Coble
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shook her head. “No. You’re wrong.”
The last trace of fogginess in Bernard’s watery green eyes disappeared, leaving his gaze lucid and clear. He gripped her hand so tightly she winced. “Your mother never wanted you to know who I really was. She thought people would talk.” He shook his head. “Like they weren’t already.”
With every passing moment, he seemed to become a different man, focused and alert. He raised a hand that steadied the closer it got to Bree’s cheek. “So pretty,” he crooned. “You were always so pretty. Your hair is a little darker now than it was when you were a little girl.”
Bree felt frozen in place. She glanced around for Naomi. The sympathy in her friend’s eyes steadied her.
“You had a little girl,” she muttered. Bree remembered a small, solemn child who followed her around. She tore her gaze from Naomi’s and studied Cassie. “Cassandra? You were Cassandra?”
Cassie’s face was full of emotion: hope, fear, trepidation. She went to the coffee table and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a faded picture and handed it to Bree. “See if you recognize the children,” she said simply.
Bree stared at the photo. She recognized her smiling mother and Uncle Bernard. Her own five-year-old self sat on the floor in front of them with her arm around a little girl with dark curls. The resemblance between the two children was remarkable, only Bree had red hair andCassie had brown. Bree glanced back to Cassie. Cassie’s green eyes swam with tears, and Bree knew where she’d seen those eyes before. Looking back at her from the mirror.
“Breathe,” Naomi whispered in her ear. She put a steadying hand on Bree’s arm.
6
B ree wanted to bolt from the house. She stared into Cassie’s face. “You’re my sister?” she croaked past a throat that felt wrapped in Spandex.
“Yes.” Cassie thrust out her chin as if daring her to deny it.
Bree forced herself to ask questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers to. “He moved away when I was six. How did you know where to find me?”
“Your mother sent him pictures and updates.”
The very idea of her mother doing something so mundane and normal seemed unreal. She’d never even known her mother to take any pictures. There were her school pictures, but half the time her mom didn’t buy but one sheet. “And your mother?”
“She died when I was ten.”
“Did she know about me and my mother?”
“I doubt it. She didn’t notice much of anything.”
Cassie must have sensed Bree’s panic, for she put her hand on Bree’s arm and stopped her flight. “He loved you and your mother very much, you know.”
Bree shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. A father who loved me wouldn’t have left me to deal with an alcoholic mother. He never so much as sent me a birthday card.”
Cassie blinked and frowned. “I don’t remember her drinking. She always smelled of lilacs, and her skin was so soft.”
Bree looked away. Sometimes she remembered a laughing, smiling mother who baked cookies and read to her, but the memories were soburied by scenes of broken dishes, cursing, and slaps that she’d thought the others were merely fantasies. Could her father’s leaving be what changed her mother? Her memories were so jumbled. Maybe her mother had been different before Bernard left. She didn’t want to think about that. This raking up of memories was like pulling the scab off a wound.
She turned away from Cassie and yanked her fingers through her hair. All she wanted now was to get away and think about this. Her insides felt cold, like frosted glass. One more revelation and she would shatter into shards, each one cutting until she bled from a thousand wounds.
When she had herself under control again, she looked up to meet Cassie’s anxious gaze. Bernard regarded her with a smile that seemed to say he knew she would welcome him with open arms. Her stomach churned with acid. “I’m sorry, you’ve caught
The last trace of fogginess in Bernard’s watery green eyes disappeared, leaving his gaze lucid and clear. He gripped her hand so tightly she winced. “Your mother never wanted you to know who I really was. She thought people would talk.” He shook his head. “Like they weren’t already.”
With every passing moment, he seemed to become a different man, focused and alert. He raised a hand that steadied the closer it got to Bree’s cheek. “So pretty,” he crooned. “You were always so pretty. Your hair is a little darker now than it was when you were a little girl.”
Bree felt frozen in place. She glanced around for Naomi. The sympathy in her friend’s eyes steadied her.
“You had a little girl,” she muttered. Bree remembered a small, solemn child who followed her around. She tore her gaze from Naomi’s and studied Cassie. “Cassandra? You were Cassandra?”
Cassie’s face was full of emotion: hope, fear, trepidation. She went to the coffee table and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a faded picture and handed it to Bree. “See if you recognize the children,” she said simply.
Bree stared at the photo. She recognized her smiling mother and Uncle Bernard. Her own five-year-old self sat on the floor in front of them with her arm around a little girl with dark curls. The resemblance between the two children was remarkable, only Bree had red hair andCassie had brown. Bree glanced back to Cassie. Cassie’s green eyes swam with tears, and Bree knew where she’d seen those eyes before. Looking back at her from the mirror.
“Breathe,” Naomi whispered in her ear. She put a steadying hand on Bree’s arm.
6
B ree wanted to bolt from the house. She stared into Cassie’s face. “You’re my sister?” she croaked past a throat that felt wrapped in Spandex.
“Yes.” Cassie thrust out her chin as if daring her to deny it.
Bree forced herself to ask questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers to. “He moved away when I was six. How did you know where to find me?”
“Your mother sent him pictures and updates.”
The very idea of her mother doing something so mundane and normal seemed unreal. She’d never even known her mother to take any pictures. There were her school pictures, but half the time her mom didn’t buy but one sheet. “And your mother?”
“She died when I was ten.”
“Did she know about me and my mother?”
“I doubt it. She didn’t notice much of anything.”
Cassie must have sensed Bree’s panic, for she put her hand on Bree’s arm and stopped her flight. “He loved you and your mother very much, you know.”
Bree shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. A father who loved me wouldn’t have left me to deal with an alcoholic mother. He never so much as sent me a birthday card.”
Cassie blinked and frowned. “I don’t remember her drinking. She always smelled of lilacs, and her skin was so soft.”
Bree looked away. Sometimes she remembered a laughing, smiling mother who baked cookies and read to her, but the memories were soburied by scenes of broken dishes, cursing, and slaps that she’d thought the others were merely fantasies. Could her father’s leaving be what changed her mother? Her memories were so jumbled. Maybe her mother had been different before Bernard left. She didn’t want to think about that. This raking up of memories was like pulling the scab off a wound.
She turned away from Cassie and yanked her fingers through her hair. All she wanted now was to get away and think about this. Her insides felt cold, like frosted glass. One more revelation and she would shatter into shards, each one cutting until she bled from a thousand wounds.
When she had herself under control again, she looked up to meet Cassie’s anxious gaze. Bernard regarded her with a smile that seemed to say he knew she would welcome him with open arms. Her stomach churned with acid. “I’m sorry, you’ve caught
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