Read Online Shifting Shadows by Sally Berneathy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sally Berneathy
Ads: Link
stack of papers from it.
“ In the Matter of the Marriage of Analise Parrish Ryker, Petitioner, and Phillip Dean Ryker, Respondent.” Reading the legal phrases, trying to make sense out of them, she clutched the paper so tightly it wrinkled.
Phillip had not divorced her. She had divorced him. The only reason given was incompatibility.
Dear God, what kind of woman was she to divorce her husband?
A horrible, shrieking racket burst through the silence. She jumped, dropping the papers and looking frantically around her. The noise screamed on, incessant and demanding.
Heart racing, she charged down the stairs, following the intensity of the sound to its source in the kitchen where smoke encompassed the stove.
*~*~*
Dylan heard Analise’s smoke detector shrieking as he stepped out of his car and started toward her house with the box of chocolate frosted doughnuts.
What now?
He raced down the walk into the morning mist. Her door burst open and she ran out holding her hands over her ears, trailed by a cloud of ugly black smoke.
“ Analise!” She looked up as he called her name, relief flooding her frightened eyes. “What’s on fire?”
She didn ’t answer, just shook her head. He thrust the doughnuts into her hands and raced past her into the house.
The smoke seemed to come from a saucepan on the stove.
He grabbed a dishtowel to use as a potholder, tossed the pan into the sink and turned off the burner then climbed on a chair and turned off the alarm.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her sidle tentatively back into the house. He stepped off the chair and peered into the pan holding the still-smoking remnants of something black and foul smelling. “What in the world is this?”
“ Boiled coffee,” she answered, her voice weak. “What was that noise?”
Boiled coffee? He studied her silently, trying to probe her mind, know what she was really thinking, what she was up to. Finally he pointed upward. “Your smoke detector went off.”
She gave a nervous, embarrassed laugh, set the box of doughnuts on her cabinet, then sank shakily into a chair at the table. “Smoke detector. Of course. I’d forgotten.”
He let that ridiculous assertion pass. “Analise, why would you make coffee in a saucepan?”
“ I didn’t feel up to figuring out that machine.”
“ So you put some water to boil in a pan. Were you planning to strain the grounds through your teeth as you drank it?” He wanted to tell her to give it up, that he didn’t believe she’d lost her memory, that he wasn’t going to disappear and leave Phillip and her alone.
“ You put in an eggshell to settle the grounds,” she explained. “Grandmother taught me. Why don’t you believe me?” She surprised him by the bold openness of her question.
He crossed his arms over his chest, regarded her thoughtfully, then turned away without answering. “Come over here and I’ll show you how to work this machine.” He wasn’t sure if his offer of help was sincere or sarcastic. A little of both.
She moved to the cabinet and stood beside him, gazing up at him , her eyes wide and trusting. And that was all part of the deception, he reminded himself sternly. He couldn’t let himself be taken in.
He snatched up the coffeepot, leaned over the sink and filled it with water. “Pour it in the top,” he said, hoping she’d mistake the gruffness in his voice for irritation with her ploy rather than the irritation he felt with himself.
Analise had to make a determined effort to concentrate on Dylan’s actions and words rather than on his closeness. He pushed out all thought, filled her mind as he filled the room. He was big, tall and muscular, dark and ominous, but something inside her was drawn to him in spite of the aura of danger about him...or because of it. Like the Ferris wheel. Like sitting at the top and rocking the seat, scary but exciting.
He was talking, his voice low, but she didn’t hear the words. She focused on him, on the
“ In the Matter of the Marriage of Analise Parrish Ryker, Petitioner, and Phillip Dean Ryker, Respondent.” Reading the legal phrases, trying to make sense out of them, she clutched the paper so tightly it wrinkled.
Phillip had not divorced her. She had divorced him. The only reason given was incompatibility.
Dear God, what kind of woman was she to divorce her husband?
A horrible, shrieking racket burst through the silence. She jumped, dropping the papers and looking frantically around her. The noise screamed on, incessant and demanding.
Heart racing, she charged down the stairs, following the intensity of the sound to its source in the kitchen where smoke encompassed the stove.
*~*~*
Dylan heard Analise’s smoke detector shrieking as he stepped out of his car and started toward her house with the box of chocolate frosted doughnuts.
What now?
He raced down the walk into the morning mist. Her door burst open and she ran out holding her hands over her ears, trailed by a cloud of ugly black smoke.
“ Analise!” She looked up as he called her name, relief flooding her frightened eyes. “What’s on fire?”
She didn ’t answer, just shook her head. He thrust the doughnuts into her hands and raced past her into the house.
The smoke seemed to come from a saucepan on the stove.
He grabbed a dishtowel to use as a potholder, tossed the pan into the sink and turned off the burner then climbed on a chair and turned off the alarm.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her sidle tentatively back into the house. He stepped off the chair and peered into the pan holding the still-smoking remnants of something black and foul smelling. “What in the world is this?”
“ Boiled coffee,” she answered, her voice weak. “What was that noise?”
Boiled coffee? He studied her silently, trying to probe her mind, know what she was really thinking, what she was up to. Finally he pointed upward. “Your smoke detector went off.”
She gave a nervous, embarrassed laugh, set the box of doughnuts on her cabinet, then sank shakily into a chair at the table. “Smoke detector. Of course. I’d forgotten.”
He let that ridiculous assertion pass. “Analise, why would you make coffee in a saucepan?”
“ I didn’t feel up to figuring out that machine.”
“ So you put some water to boil in a pan. Were you planning to strain the grounds through your teeth as you drank it?” He wanted to tell her to give it up, that he didn’t believe she’d lost her memory, that he wasn’t going to disappear and leave Phillip and her alone.
“ You put in an eggshell to settle the grounds,” she explained. “Grandmother taught me. Why don’t you believe me?” She surprised him by the bold openness of her question.
He crossed his arms over his chest, regarded her thoughtfully, then turned away without answering. “Come over here and I’ll show you how to work this machine.” He wasn’t sure if his offer of help was sincere or sarcastic. A little of both.
She moved to the cabinet and stood beside him, gazing up at him , her eyes wide and trusting. And that was all part of the deception, he reminded himself sternly. He couldn’t let himself be taken in.
He snatched up the coffeepot, leaned over the sink and filled it with water. “Pour it in the top,” he said, hoping she’d mistake the gruffness in his voice for irritation with her ploy rather than the irritation he felt with himself.
Analise had to make a determined effort to concentrate on Dylan’s actions and words rather than on his closeness. He pushed out all thought, filled her mind as he filled the room. He was big, tall and muscular, dark and ominous, but something inside her was drawn to him in spite of the aura of danger about him...or because of it. Like the Ferris wheel. Like sitting at the top and rocking the seat, scary but exciting.
He was talking, his voice low, but she didn’t hear the words. She focused on him, on the
Similar Books
