Read Online The Fall and Rise of Kade Hart: A Hart Brothers Novel by A.M. Hargrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A.M. Hargrove
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that she wanted you to walk
home in this weather. You could die out there.”
“I hardly think…”
“I do think. It’s dangerous. I drove home in
a white out. We are in the midst of a blizzard. You’ll be lucky to
get home tomorrow.”
She runs to the front window and looks
outside. “Oh, dear. This is a bad one, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t listened to the news?”
“No. I never listen to the news.”
“Yeah, so they’re saying this one is the
storm of the century. The airport is closed and all flights have
been cancelled for tomorrow. Airlines are scrambling because of the
holidays next week. It’s going to be a mess.”
She looks at me for a second before
answering. “I guess I had my head in the sand.” She doesn’t
elaborate.
“I don’t suppose the nuns have any holiday
plans?” I haven’t a clue what made me ask that.
“Some of them will visit their families
after all the masses are over. You know we have an early mass on
Christmas Eve, and then the big midnight Mass celebration. On
Christmas Day we have two morning services, too. When we finish
with all of that, most of them will go visit their families for a
few days. Sister Helena will hold down the fort, as you can
imagine.” She laughs a little. “What about you?”
“I’m off to see my brothers for a short
visit. We wanted to do something different this year. Last
Christmas was … well, my mother was killed during dinner at my
brother Kestrel’s house. It was a damn mess. There was a drive-by
shooting. My two sisters-in-law were shot, too. Kestrel wasn’t
married yet, but they got married in the spring. His wife is
pregnant now and can’t travel because her due date is the third of
January. So we’re going to his place in Charleston.”
“Good lord! That’s so awful about your
mother! You’ve had so much tragedy in your family.”
I’m sure I look pretty bereft, because
that’s precisely how I feel—like I’ve lost about everything
meaningful in my life. And I don’t know why it hits me like this,
all of a sudden.
She walks up to me and wraps her arms around
me. “I’m so sorry. A blow like that is the worst kind to bear.” Her
arms offer comfort, something I haven’t had in the longest time. I
soak it in, not wanting her to let me go. But she does, looking at
me with the saddest of expressions.
I laugh. Not a jovial one. “You know the
saying about if there weren’t bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at
all? That pretty much applies to my family.”
Her head drops and she knots her fingers.
When she raises her gaze, I notice her eyes have taken on a bruised
look and are filled with agony and ruin. Shadows flit across her
features momentarily, and then they are gone, replaced by the look
she usually wears. It’s a mask, I’ve now discovered. She’s hiding
behind a veil and it doesn’t have a thing to do with her being a
nun. There’s something else—a deep-rooted loss. She understands
what I feel. It’s so potent I can almost taste the sting of her
suffering.
“Tell me, Emmalia. Maybe I can help.”
Her head jerks up as our gazes lock. Then
her lids squeeze shut, as though she wants to block me out. Maybe
I’ve pushed her too hard. So I say, “I know you don’t want to talk
about it. So if you ever do, I want you to know you can trust me. I
promise I’ll do all I can to help you. And I’ll never breathe a
word to anyone.”
Dark brown eyes bore into mine, assessing,
judging, weighing my words, and then she gives me a slight nod. Her
hesitancy tells me I’m going to have to do a lot more than tell
her. I’m going to have to win her trust somehow. I don’t know how,
but I’ll come up with something.
“So, how about that burger?”
“Only if you let me help.”
I agree and we team up in the kitchen to
produce our dinner of hamburgers, oven fries, and salad. She helps
clean up and when we’re finished, she offers to take Ethel out.
“I’ll do it. You finally got warm from
walking
home in this weather. You could die out there.”
“I hardly think…”
“I do think. It’s dangerous. I drove home in
a white out. We are in the midst of a blizzard. You’ll be lucky to
get home tomorrow.”
She runs to the front window and looks
outside. “Oh, dear. This is a bad one, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t listened to the news?”
“No. I never listen to the news.”
“Yeah, so they’re saying this one is the
storm of the century. The airport is closed and all flights have
been cancelled for tomorrow. Airlines are scrambling because of the
holidays next week. It’s going to be a mess.”
She looks at me for a second before
answering. “I guess I had my head in the sand.” She doesn’t
elaborate.
“I don’t suppose the nuns have any holiday
plans?” I haven’t a clue what made me ask that.
“Some of them will visit their families
after all the masses are over. You know we have an early mass on
Christmas Eve, and then the big midnight Mass celebration. On
Christmas Day we have two morning services, too. When we finish
with all of that, most of them will go visit their families for a
few days. Sister Helena will hold down the fort, as you can
imagine.” She laughs a little. “What about you?”
“I’m off to see my brothers for a short
visit. We wanted to do something different this year. Last
Christmas was … well, my mother was killed during dinner at my
brother Kestrel’s house. It was a damn mess. There was a drive-by
shooting. My two sisters-in-law were shot, too. Kestrel wasn’t
married yet, but they got married in the spring. His wife is
pregnant now and can’t travel because her due date is the third of
January. So we’re going to his place in Charleston.”
“Good lord! That’s so awful about your
mother! You’ve had so much tragedy in your family.”
I’m sure I look pretty bereft, because
that’s precisely how I feel—like I’ve lost about everything
meaningful in my life. And I don’t know why it hits me like this,
all of a sudden.
She walks up to me and wraps her arms around
me. “I’m so sorry. A blow like that is the worst kind to bear.” Her
arms offer comfort, something I haven’t had in the longest time. I
soak it in, not wanting her to let me go. But she does, looking at
me with the saddest of expressions.
I laugh. Not a jovial one. “You know the
saying about if there weren’t bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at
all? That pretty much applies to my family.”
Her head drops and she knots her fingers.
When she raises her gaze, I notice her eyes have taken on a bruised
look and are filled with agony and ruin. Shadows flit across her
features momentarily, and then they are gone, replaced by the look
she usually wears. It’s a mask, I’ve now discovered. She’s hiding
behind a veil and it doesn’t have a thing to do with her being a
nun. There’s something else—a deep-rooted loss. She understands
what I feel. It’s so potent I can almost taste the sting of her
suffering.
“Tell me, Emmalia. Maybe I can help.”
Her head jerks up as our gazes lock. Then
her lids squeeze shut, as though she wants to block me out. Maybe
I’ve pushed her too hard. So I say, “I know you don’t want to talk
about it. So if you ever do, I want you to know you can trust me. I
promise I’ll do all I can to help you. And I’ll never breathe a
word to anyone.”
Dark brown eyes bore into mine, assessing,
judging, weighing my words, and then she gives me a slight nod. Her
hesitancy tells me I’m going to have to do a lot more than tell
her. I’m going to have to win her trust somehow. I don’t know how,
but I’ll come up with something.
“So, how about that burger?”
“Only if you let me help.”
I agree and we team up in the kitchen to
produce our dinner of hamburgers, oven fries, and salad. She helps
clean up and when we’re finished, she offers to take Ethel out.
“I’ll do it. You finally got warm from
walking
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