thing Kate needed, but if it helped Alex take the edge off, then sheâd drink an entire vineyardâs worth.
âIâll just be a minute.â Kate took the cups and saucers off the table. She rinsed them with scalding-hot water until her hands were beet red. Then she put them in the dishwasher and wiped the tabletop and counters. She refilled the creamer and sugar bowls. She swept the floor, then took a damp mop and began scrubbing the already clean tiles. An hour later she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was lie down. She didnât want to remember all their visits with the Winters, didnât want to imagine what Sara had told her parents about Alex. Poor, innocent Alex. He wouldnât hurt a flea. He couldnât even smash a spider. Heâd scoop it onto a paper, or whatever happened to be handy, then release it outside. Kate had yet to meet the man who could compare to Alex. Knowing she couldnât stall any longer, she turned off the kitchen lights. Upstairs, Alex was sound asleep, the paper and pencil tossed aside. Knowing this might be the last restful night Alex would have for a while, she curled up next to him.
She was so very tired. Mentally, sheâd never been this tired. Kate let her mind wander as she drifted off.
Alex looked like he was a hundred years old. His skin, once a warm brown from the sun, was pale and wrinkled like parchment paper. There was no color to his eyes, the pigment gone. His hair had turned completely white.
âI told you weâd get through this, Alex. Whyâd you have to go and get yourself locked up? We were winning, you didnât have to accept the plea!â
Tears filled Kateâs eyes as she watched her husband through the thick Plexiglas. Heâd taken the deal, telling her it was only ten years. Only ten years ...
Kate shot up in the bed like a missile. Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. She still wore her jeans and T-shirt. Her heartbeat quadrupled. She looked over at Alex. He still slept. She wouldnât wake him up. She couldnât tell him about her dream. As a child, she and her friends had always said, âIf you tell a dream before breakfast, itâll come true.â
Morning was hours away. Kate would not speak of her dream to anyone.
She prayed this wasnât an omen of things to come.
Chapter 9
âI know youâre lying. You are one sick little girl. I donât believe you for one minute, you rotten piece of dog poop. Uncle Alex wouldnât ever do something so . . . so nasty. Especially to a fat pig like you!â
Emily knew she was being hateful to Sara, but at that minute, she just didnât care. Somehow, she had to help Uncle Alex out of this mess. At fifteen, she didnât know what she could do, but she was sure to come up with something.
âYou donât know what itâs like, so just shut up. Iâve been abused. Donât talk to me that way again, or Iâll tell Mommy.â Sara was delighted with her new role as victim and was going to milk it for all it was worth. Sheâd told Emily it was terrible, the icky things Uncle Alex did to her, and why shouldnât she get some extra sympathy? Her life was tainted forever. Words sheâd overheard their parents use.
âYouâre such a liar, Sara. Do you think for one minute anyone is going to believe you? Oh, I know Mom and Dad do, but theyâll soon realize that youâre just doing this to get attention. This isnât the way to get it, surely you ought to know that by now. But then again, you are just a baby. Twelve years old. Puh-leeze! And go ahead and tell on me. I donât think anything I do could be as rotten as what youâre doing. Iâm ashamed to call you my sister!â Emily slammed out of Saraâs room and headed to her own just down the hall.
She was still in shock over Saraâs accusations. And her parents had actually believed the little liar! Theyâd talked to
âIâll just be a minute.â Kate took the cups and saucers off the table. She rinsed them with scalding-hot water until her hands were beet red. Then she put them in the dishwasher and wiped the tabletop and counters. She refilled the creamer and sugar bowls. She swept the floor, then took a damp mop and began scrubbing the already clean tiles. An hour later she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was lie down. She didnât want to remember all their visits with the Winters, didnât want to imagine what Sara had told her parents about Alex. Poor, innocent Alex. He wouldnât hurt a flea. He couldnât even smash a spider. Heâd scoop it onto a paper, or whatever happened to be handy, then release it outside. Kate had yet to meet the man who could compare to Alex. Knowing she couldnât stall any longer, she turned off the kitchen lights. Upstairs, Alex was sound asleep, the paper and pencil tossed aside. Knowing this might be the last restful night Alex would have for a while, she curled up next to him.
She was so very tired. Mentally, sheâd never been this tired. Kate let her mind wander as she drifted off.
Alex looked like he was a hundred years old. His skin, once a warm brown from the sun, was pale and wrinkled like parchment paper. There was no color to his eyes, the pigment gone. His hair had turned completely white.
âI told you weâd get through this, Alex. Whyâd you have to go and get yourself locked up? We were winning, you didnât have to accept the plea!â
Tears filled Kateâs eyes as she watched her husband through the thick Plexiglas. Heâd taken the deal, telling her it was only ten years. Only ten years ...
Kate shot up in the bed like a missile. Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. She still wore her jeans and T-shirt. Her heartbeat quadrupled. She looked over at Alex. He still slept. She wouldnât wake him up. She couldnât tell him about her dream. As a child, she and her friends had always said, âIf you tell a dream before breakfast, itâll come true.â
Morning was hours away. Kate would not speak of her dream to anyone.
She prayed this wasnât an omen of things to come.
Chapter 9
âI know youâre lying. You are one sick little girl. I donât believe you for one minute, you rotten piece of dog poop. Uncle Alex wouldnât ever do something so . . . so nasty. Especially to a fat pig like you!â
Emily knew she was being hateful to Sara, but at that minute, she just didnât care. Somehow, she had to help Uncle Alex out of this mess. At fifteen, she didnât know what she could do, but she was sure to come up with something.
âYou donât know what itâs like, so just shut up. Iâve been abused. Donât talk to me that way again, or Iâll tell Mommy.â Sara was delighted with her new role as victim and was going to milk it for all it was worth. Sheâd told Emily it was terrible, the icky things Uncle Alex did to her, and why shouldnât she get some extra sympathy? Her life was tainted forever. Words sheâd overheard their parents use.
âYouâre such a liar, Sara. Do you think for one minute anyone is going to believe you? Oh, I know Mom and Dad do, but theyâll soon realize that youâre just doing this to get attention. This isnât the way to get it, surely you ought to know that by now. But then again, you are just a baby. Twelve years old. Puh-leeze! And go ahead and tell on me. I donât think anything I do could be as rotten as what youâre doing. Iâm ashamed to call you my sister!â Emily slammed out of Saraâs room and headed to her own just down the hall.
She was still in shock over Saraâs accusations. And her parents had actually believed the little liar! Theyâd talked to
Similar Books
