Read Online To Helen Back by Susan McBride - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan McBride
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sounded brusque and ungrateful. “Or do you all want to stand around and just stare at me all morning?”
“Madeline!”
Her father took hold of her arm, but she pulled free and rushed toward the door. Just as her hand grabbed the knob, she heard Helen Evans say, “No, Earnest, don’t,” and then Maddy pushed free and stumbled off.
Tears flooded her eyes so that she could hardly see where she went. She bumped into something and nearly screamed when she realized it was the coffin.
His coffin.
She tripped on the red carpet that ran down the aisle, falling to her knees. She scraped her knees, drawing blood, but she didn’t stop.
She scrambled to her feet and forced her legs to move ahead, to get her outside where she could finally breathe; where she didn’t have to think of Milton Grone and the last time she’d seen him, wondering if it was her fault that he was dead.
Chapter 12
“W ELL, THERE YOU are, Mrs. Evans. I’ve been waiting for you to come out.”
Helen had barely parted ways with the Melvilles a moment before when a curvy figure in high heels popped out from behind a gnarled oak to intercept her on the sidewalk in front of the church.
“You do remember me, don’t you?” the redhead asked, squinting in the sunlight.
“Of course I do,” Helen said. “Hello, Mrs. Grone.” She smiled politely and tucked her purse into the crook of her elbow. Hadn’t the first Mrs. Grone been a brunette all those years ago? Helen wasn’t sure if the red hair was all that becoming, although it did distract a bit from the hard lines around her mouth and eyes. She had a pinched look on her face as though life had not been kind. “I haven’t seen you around in ages,” Helen went on, “not until you showed up at this morning’s service. How are you doing? Are you still living in Alton with the boys?”
Delilah pulled a plastic compact from her purse and powdered her nose. “I’ve got a good job at a restaurant off the highway,” she said, “in hospitality.”
Hospitality? Helen had heard that she waitressed at a truck stop off the interstate.
“My boys are teenagers now, can you believe? It’s hard to work full-time and keep ’em in line.” Delilah put away her compact and laughed, but there was little amusement in the sound. “You know how kids are these days. They don’t listen to a thing their parents say, and it’s not like I’ve had help raising them.” She paused, sighing, and stabbed a hand into her bag, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. She tapped the bottom and cursed. “Empty,” she said, glancing at Helen. “Damn.” She crushed the pack in her fist and pocketed the litter. “I guess it’s not my day.”
Helen felt suddenly sorry for the woman. “Back in the chapel,” she began, “if I could apologize for how Shotsie—”
“Oh, no, don’t bother,” Delilah cut her off. “I’m not surprised that Milt’s floozy would want me to get the hell out. It’s my fault for making an entrance,” she said. “I should have slipped in and sat down without a peep. I don’t know why I do half the things I do sometimes. Milt was always telling me to keep my big trap shut.” Delilah tapped a foot on the sidewalk. “The only reason I dropped in was to see for myself if the old coot was dead. I didn’t think about how the Black Widow would react.” Her painted mouth settled into a grim line. “Not that I imagined she’d be thrilled to see me, but I never thought she’d have me tossed out.”
“Shotsie’s very upset about losing her husband,” Helen said in her defense. “You can’t honestly blame her for not wanting you there.”
Delilah’s hands went to her hips, and her voice prickled with defiance. “Tell me why in hell I shouldn’t have come, huh?” She stared at Helen with heavily made-up eyes, the crinkles of skin around them all too obvious, despite the pancake makeup meant to disguise them. “No matter how bad things were when Milt and I split, we were
“Madeline!”
Her father took hold of her arm, but she pulled free and rushed toward the door. Just as her hand grabbed the knob, she heard Helen Evans say, “No, Earnest, don’t,” and then Maddy pushed free and stumbled off.
Tears flooded her eyes so that she could hardly see where she went. She bumped into something and nearly screamed when she realized it was the coffin.
His coffin.
She tripped on the red carpet that ran down the aisle, falling to her knees. She scraped her knees, drawing blood, but she didn’t stop.
She scrambled to her feet and forced her legs to move ahead, to get her outside where she could finally breathe; where she didn’t have to think of Milton Grone and the last time she’d seen him, wondering if it was her fault that he was dead.
Chapter 12
“W ELL, THERE YOU are, Mrs. Evans. I’ve been waiting for you to come out.”
Helen had barely parted ways with the Melvilles a moment before when a curvy figure in high heels popped out from behind a gnarled oak to intercept her on the sidewalk in front of the church.
“You do remember me, don’t you?” the redhead asked, squinting in the sunlight.
“Of course I do,” Helen said. “Hello, Mrs. Grone.” She smiled politely and tucked her purse into the crook of her elbow. Hadn’t the first Mrs. Grone been a brunette all those years ago? Helen wasn’t sure if the red hair was all that becoming, although it did distract a bit from the hard lines around her mouth and eyes. She had a pinched look on her face as though life had not been kind. “I haven’t seen you around in ages,” Helen went on, “not until you showed up at this morning’s service. How are you doing? Are you still living in Alton with the boys?”
Delilah pulled a plastic compact from her purse and powdered her nose. “I’ve got a good job at a restaurant off the highway,” she said, “in hospitality.”
Hospitality? Helen had heard that she waitressed at a truck stop off the interstate.
“My boys are teenagers now, can you believe? It’s hard to work full-time and keep ’em in line.” Delilah put away her compact and laughed, but there was little amusement in the sound. “You know how kids are these days. They don’t listen to a thing their parents say, and it’s not like I’ve had help raising them.” She paused, sighing, and stabbed a hand into her bag, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. She tapped the bottom and cursed. “Empty,” she said, glancing at Helen. “Damn.” She crushed the pack in her fist and pocketed the litter. “I guess it’s not my day.”
Helen felt suddenly sorry for the woman. “Back in the chapel,” she began, “if I could apologize for how Shotsie—”
“Oh, no, don’t bother,” Delilah cut her off. “I’m not surprised that Milt’s floozy would want me to get the hell out. It’s my fault for making an entrance,” she said. “I should have slipped in and sat down without a peep. I don’t know why I do half the things I do sometimes. Milt was always telling me to keep my big trap shut.” Delilah tapped a foot on the sidewalk. “The only reason I dropped in was to see for myself if the old coot was dead. I didn’t think about how the Black Widow would react.” Her painted mouth settled into a grim line. “Not that I imagined she’d be thrilled to see me, but I never thought she’d have me tossed out.”
“Shotsie’s very upset about losing her husband,” Helen said in her defense. “You can’t honestly blame her for not wanting you there.”
Delilah’s hands went to her hips, and her voice prickled with defiance. “Tell me why in hell I shouldn’t have come, huh?” She stared at Helen with heavily made-up eyes, the crinkles of skin around them all too obvious, despite the pancake makeup meant to disguise them. “No matter how bad things were when Milt and I split, we were
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