Read Online The Summer Bones by Kate Watterson - Free Book Online

appalled. Victoria was pretty appalled herself.
    The first thing she did was remove the stinking trash can, putting it out the back door while she fought the wave of sickness that threatened to crawl up her throat.
    Ronald waved a lethargic hand in thanks and sank down in a carved wooden chair by the kitchen table. His face was very gray, with sagging skin under hollow cheekbones and several days’ stubble in an unhealthy fuzz across his chin.
    Turning from the back door, Victoria made a small involuntary sound of concern.
    â€œI just need a drink,” Ronald mumbled. “Pretty bad, if you must know. There’s a bottle in the cupboard … would you mind?”
    She wasn’t precisely his keeper. Hesitating, she stood, viewing the wreckage, both human and of the room itself, wondering what to do. If he wanted a drink, really wanted one, she could hardly stop him. At any rate, it wasn’t going to help matters if she argued the point.
    Shrugging, Victoria fumbled in the cupboard under the sink and found the bottle, bringing it over to plop it on the table in front of him. She watched critically as he sloshed the pale gold liquid into a juice glass, filling it almost to the rim. It was hard to tell if this was a reaction to the news of Emily’s abandoned car, or if he had been drinking steadily since her disappearance.
    The condition of the house supported the latter theory. Obviously, there had been a certain distraction from the ordinary routines of life. Like flushing toilets and taking out the garbage.
    â€œThat stuff won’t help this situation,” she said with as little inflection as possible.
    â€œGood advice,” Ronald said sardonically as he lifted the glass to his lips with shaking fingers. Some of the booze spilled past the edge of the glass and dripped off his chin as he drank two generous gulps. “What would help, Vicky? Huh?” He blinked over the rim of the glass. “Tell me what would help.”
    â€œI simply meant that—”
    â€œI know what you meant,” he said rudely, slapping the glass down on the table. “The poor, abandoned asshole of a husband shouldn’t be pissing away the day by cuddling up with a bottle. He should be out there, looking for his wife. Or else, what are you thinking? Pining by the telephone might help? Pestering the police for the latest?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t hurt at least to be conscious.” She refused to be bullied, though she took one small step backward. His anger was understandable, expected even. And Ronald being Ronald, he was going to give voice to whatever he was feeling.
    â€œI am conscious.” His tone was vicious. “I’m so damned conscious that it makes me sick.” A bead of liquid hung perilously off his chin. “Not that that bitch cares. She’s probably enjoying herself.”
    His words were like a flying banner, announcing how Ronald interpreted the current situation.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she murmured, slow heat rising in her face. Emily’s faults always seemed to reflect on them both. A lifetime of making excuses and quietly accepting a share of the blame was not forgotten easily. Whether it was a broken cup, a bad spelling grade, or a childhood squabble, she had always sided with her sister. Adulthood had changed nothing.
    Ronald lifted dull, reddened eyes. “Sorry? If you’re sorry, then tell me where she is. Tell me where she went, and who she’s with.”
    Victoria said slowly, “Are you so sure she was having an affair?”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œWhy?”
    His gaze slid away. He lifted the glass again.
    â€œWas it someone from her office? A client?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œThen how can you be sure?” It was a strain to keep her voice pleasant and level. Even Ronald wouldn’t be so hostile if there wasn’t some basis for his suspicions.
    â€œWhere else would she go? Tell me