Read Online The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend by Katarina Bivald - Free Book Online Page B

here, helping your dad –’
    â€˜Yes, but now he’s dead,’ said Tom.
    Sara looked up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled to no one in particular. Everything around her was spinning.
    â€˜â€“ with the farm.’
    â€˜Yes, but now it’s been sold.’
    â€˜Helping Mike with the business. Always loyal, always here.’
    â€˜Yes, but where has any of that got me?’ Tom had clearly grown tired of the conversation. ‘Why did you want to come here anyway?’ he tried asking Sara, but she didn’t know how to reply.
    Maybe she should just drink herself silly, she thought. She took a few deep gulps of her beer. She had never been drunk, so she had no idea if it would actually help solve her problems. Others seemed to get drunk a lot, so maybe it did help a bit. Though if her colleagues were anything to go by, it seemed mostly to create new problems instead.
    â€˜Sara?’ Tom said. She looked up. ‘Another beer?’
    She nodded. How many new problems could it create?
    â€˜So, why did you end up here of all places?’ It was Andy’s turn to try.
    Because of Amy. ‘Why not?’
    â€˜Did you even know Iowa existed?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜What did you know about us?’ Tom asked.
    She thought about saying that she knew his father had run his own newspaper but decided at the last minute that it wouldn’t be a good idea. ‘I knew there was a cat,’ she said instead.
    It didn’t quite have the effect she had been hoping for.
    â€˜A library cat,’ she added. ‘Dewey Readmore Books. You must know the one?’
    â€˜God,’ said Andy. ‘Spencer’s cat. How the hell did you know that?’
    â€˜Amy had –’ Sara began, but stopped short.
    â€˜A book about it, I bet,’ Tom finished dismissively.
    She drank more whiskey. Maybe it would help.
    By the end of the evening, Tom was forced to give her a supporting hand as she clambered down from the bar stool. She was drunk, that much she knew, but not so drunk that any of her problems had been solved. She felt disappointed. Why did people drink if it didn’t make them feel better? Maybe she just hadn’t drunk enough.
    Tom had to help her fasten her seat belt, too. She looked at him. She didn’t quite know what to make of him. She pulled a face.
    He raised an eyebrow at her scrutinising gaze and turned the ignition key.
    â€˜So you
can
be nice?’ she said, as much a statement as a question.
    He smiled. ‘It has been known,’ he said.
    She nodded. ‘That’s good to know.’
    She leaned her head against the cool car window and closed her eyes.
    He took her right up to the door. ‘Can you manage?’ he asked.
    â€˜Sure,’ she said confidently, adding ‘Goodnight’ to emphasise her point. She did actually feel braver now that she was drunk, and that was a fantastic feeling. Even though it had more to do with Amy’s betrayal than the whiskey. If she had been lured over to America by a woman who knew she was going to die, then at least she didn’t have to feel bad about staying there. Or at least that was what she told herself as she trudged into the house as though it was her own.
    She would go to bed, and in the morning she would decide what to do. But as she passed Amy’s bedroom, she stopped.
    She hesitated. She was drunk enough that she could think of nothing at all for a few moments, and then, suddenly, she had an idea.
    Books!
    There had to be books somewhere in the house. The stack of books she had brought with her was all she had been able to fit in her luggage, even after she had taken out some of her clothes and her second pair of shoes. And besides, she had already read some of them, bringing them along more as familiar old friends than exciting new acquaintances. Amy must have more for her to read.
    She stood still a moment longer. Swaying. Laughing to herself as she