door. The woman glared at him. She had the look of an army sergeant. Hard as nails, tough through and through. Viola could be unpleasant and aggravating, but she was devoted to Carolyn. He didn’t know what they would have done without the woman these past thirty-one years.
“Please come in, Mr. Porter.” Viola moved out of his way. “Miss Carolyn is quite eager to see you.”
Viola walked past him, leaving him alone with his wife. Carolyn sat propped up in the bed, pillows surrounding her. She was still a lovely woman. He tried his best to be devoted and caring. Occasionally he even shared her bed. But Carolyn’s paralysis kept her from fully enjoying sex, so their intimate moments together lacked any real satisfaction for either of them. If he loved her, it would have been different. But he didn’t love her. He hadn’t loved his wife in over thirty years. If he ever confessed that to anyone, they would assume it was because of her condition. But they would be wrong.
“Darling, there you are. What kept you so long? Viola heard you speaking to Judy Conway on the stairs. Has Judy gone?”
“Yes, she’s gone.”
“Such a sweet woman.”
“Yes.”
Carolyn patted the bed. “Come sit with me.”
Webb crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “Have you had a good day?”
“As good as most. What about you? Did you enjoy your lunch with Ella?”
How did he answer that question truthfully without divulging the truth about the harassing letters Ella had received? Telling Carolyn would only upset her. “I always enjoy time with our daughter.”
“We have every reason to be proud of her, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do. We’ve done a fine job with her. You’ve been a good mother.”
“Thank you, Webb. It’s nice to know that I’m not a failure at everything.”
“Carolyn, please…”
“Yes, of course, no need to ruin a perfectly pleasant visit with an unpleasant subject.”
“Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” Webb asked.
“Yes, certainly…if you’re going to be home. You haven’t made other plans, have you?”
“No.”
“Webb?”
“Hmm?”
“What were you and Judy talking about?”
Webb noted the hint of jealousy in Carolyn’s voice. She had been insanely jealous when they’d first married—a trait that had driven him crazy. Back then, she’d had no reason to be jealous. He’d been a faithful husband. She was still a jealous wife, but she controlled the emotion and hid her feelings quite well. He knew she suspected him of infidelity, but it was a taboo subject between them.
“I asked her about Reed,” Webb said.
“Ah, yes, of course. What else would the two of you have to discuss except her son? I assume he still hates you as much as he did when he first went to prison.”
“Yes, I assume he does.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t make good on the threats he made back then.” Carolyn reached for Webb’s hand. Reluctantly, he accepted her gentle touch. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Or to Ella. You and our daughter are my life. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Carolyn, I know.” He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek. “You mustn’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure that Reed Conway isn’t a threat to me or to Ella.”
“What will you do if he…?”
Webb laid his index finger over her parted lips. “Hush now. Don’t fret. Just know that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Reed from disrupting our lives.”
Chapter 7
When he heard a car screech to a halt outside the garage, Reed looked up from under the hood of the Pontiac Grand Prix a customer had dropped off to have the air filter changed. A 1957 Thunderbird convertible was a beautiful machine, a classic. And the lady who emerged from behind the wheel was herself a classic beauty. He would have known her anywhere. Remarkably, she’d changed very little in fifteen years. How old was she now? In her late forties, but she didn’t look a day over
M. J. Arlidge
J.W. McKenna
Unknown
J. R. Roberts
Jacqueline Wulf
Hazel St. James
M. G. Morgan
Raffaella Barker
E.R. Baine
Stacia Stone