Read Online Slow Hand by Victoria Vane - Free Book Online

warn her, nothing could have prepared her for the reality. It was so cold her teeth chattered, and the sickly sweet smell of decay drifted faintly through the air. Her head reeled and her stomach churned, as nausea and lightheadedness dueled for supremacy. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to faint or puke, but when the attendant opened the drawer to reveal the body, she forgot everything else.
    Time suspended as she gazed upon a grim, blue-tinged replica of the father she once knew. His hair had thinned and receded and his body was at least thirty pounds heavier than she remembered. Her gaze focused on his face, wrinkled around his eyes and more deeply grooved around his mouth. Set in harsh lines, it was nothing like the smiling face she recalled in her memories. Desperate to replace this ghoulish version with the father she remembered, Nikki closed her eyes and dug into the deep recesses of her mind.
    Although the memories had grown a bit hazy over twenty some years, she recalled his warm hazel eyes beneath the battered straw Stetson, the faded jeans, and the pointy-toed boots that he always wore…and his big, slightly gap-toothed smile. All of these things she associated with the happiest years of her childhood—before the bad times got worse. Before the divorce. Before he disappeared from her life for good.
    Even in those early days when it was just the three of them, life was an emotional roller coaster. She remembered weeks at a time with him gone. Her mother’s tantrums and fits of depression. The good times when he’d come home sober, tossing Nikki into the air and calling her Sweet Pea. And the frequent bad times he came home staggering and reeking of booze.
    Arguments always followed. Accusations and curses were screamed back and forth. Four-letter words that Nikki was too young to comprehend tainted the air. More often than not, there’d be shattered glass or holes punched in the walls. Nikki would huddle out of sight and pretend to be invisible while the storms raged. Once or twice she’d even seen the flashing blue lights of a police car, but the aftermath was always the same. Noises of another sort altogether—from behind a locked bedroom door.
    Her existence virtually forgotten, Nikki would retreat to her own room. The routine was pretty much the same until the night she woke up to a trailer filled with smoke—the night they’d lost everything.
    Only now could she even begin to understand the true fire-and-gasoline dynamic of having an alcoholic father and a histrionic mother. It was a destructive relationship in every way.
    But there were a few good memories—like her sixth birthday when he’d surprised her with a trip to Cleveland, Georgia, to buy her a Cabbage Patch doll. She’d wanted one for Christmas. All of her friends had them, but the stores couldn’t keep them on the shelves. Knowing her disappointment, Daddy had taken her to Babyland General. She’d seen Mother Cabbage beneath the Magic Crystal Tree and watched the birth of the cabbage babies. She even got to pick the one she wanted. After signing the oath of adoption for Zora Mae, she took her doll home. It was one of her fondest childhood memories, and she still had the ugly damned doll.
    Nikki opened her eyes and reached out her hand, forcing herself to touch him, but recoiled at the contact with flesh that was as hard and cold as stone. Her throat grew thick, her vision blurred, and her chest ached with raw regret. He was gone, and only this frigid, hollow shell remained.
    She fingered the tattered letter in her pocket—his last words to her, which she’d nearly memorized. It was written in a shaky, near-illegible scrawl and filled with excuses, apologies, and pleas for forgiveness. Words penned following five years of sobriety. They both opened and salved the old wounds.
    â€œI’m sorry, Daddy, so very sorry. I never gave you a chance to make things right when you