And the cooking. And the fetching.
"Do you miss her?"
Her eyes burned unexpectedly. "Of course."
"I don't think I'd miss Dee at all—how sad is that?"
"Sad," she agreed. "But I don't think you mean it."
Angora made a noncommittal noise in her throat. "Roxann, why did your folks divorce?"
She concentrated hard on the road. "Incompatibility. Dad was an ogre. Controlling. Jealous. Mother tired of it, I suppose."
"Your dad seems like such a sweetheart."
"I have some good memories of us all together," she conceded. "But Dad was no sweetheart. And when Mom...when they split up, he turned bitter."
"Was there another person involved?"
Every fiber in her body rallied to her mother's defense. "Mother had a male friend, but she was not having an affair."
"Although your dad thought so?"
She pursed her mouth and nodded slowly. "So he kept me from her—not because he wanted to raise me, but to punish her."
"Your dad is crazy for you. At Christmas, every other sentence out of his mouth is 'Roxann is so intelligent.' "
She smirked. "Just to aggravate Dee." Besides, only she knew that he'd been talking in code—how many times had her father said he'd rather have a child who was "smart" than "intelligent"? She was certain he'd framed her diploma as a mocking reminder of how she'd wasted her education.
"Where are we going?" Angora asked, as if she suddenly cared.
"To South Bend."
Her eyes lit up. "For Homecoming?"
"Well...I guess the timing is right. I'm actually going to stay with Nell Oney for a few days—do you remember Dr. Oney?"
Angora frowned. "Yeah. Didn't she teach philosophy?"
Roxann nodded. "And she got me involved in the Rescue program." Roxann didn't need a shrink to tell her Nell had been the mother figure she'd craved—wise, calm, attentive. She'd wanted to stay in touch with the woman who had taken a special interest in her, but the university and the people connected to it represented too many bittersweet memories.
"Do you two have business to take care of?" Angora asked.
"Sort of."
"Do you think she'll mind if I'm along?"
"No, but you can't discuss any of the things I've told you about the program with anyone."
"You of all people know I can keep a secret."
Roxann glanced over, her stomach knotted. "Don't, Angora."
For the split second, a spark of defiance shone in Angora's wide blue eyes, and Roxann had the horrible feeling that Angora would lash out at her parents and the world by divulging their secret. There was nothing more dangerous than a person who felt as if they had nothing left to lose. She swallowed.
"Roxann, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"
At the eerily serious note in her cousin's voice, warning bells chimed in her head. "Everyone has moments of extreme anger," she said carefully.
"No," Angora said, her gaze locked on Roxann's, her pupils dilated. "I mean really kill someone." In her lap, her hands convulsed. "I think I could kill Trenton and not feel a bit guilty."
A chill tickled the back of Roxann's neck as she recalled moments in college when she'd questioned Angora's stability. "Passion is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it can feel like hate instead of love."
But Angora seemed to be somewhere else. "All I know is that I put my life on hold too many times because of promises men made to me." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. "What makes the beasts think they can use a woman and then toss her aside when she becomes inconvenient?"
Roxann used her most soothing tone. "You're hurting right now, but you'll feel better by the time we get to South Bend."
Angora's eyes welled up, and her mouth tightened. "I swear on my crown, the next man who jerks me around is going to wish he hadn't."
Her cousin wouldn't be the first repressed woman to snap and retaliate, ergo all those news interviews with wide-eyed neighbors in their robes saying, "She seemed like such a nice woman."
Then as quickly as it came, the glimmer in her cousin's eyes vanished, replaced by a contrite
"Do you miss her?"
Her eyes burned unexpectedly. "Of course."
"I don't think I'd miss Dee at all—how sad is that?"
"Sad," she agreed. "But I don't think you mean it."
Angora made a noncommittal noise in her throat. "Roxann, why did your folks divorce?"
She concentrated hard on the road. "Incompatibility. Dad was an ogre. Controlling. Jealous. Mother tired of it, I suppose."
"Your dad seems like such a sweetheart."
"I have some good memories of us all together," she conceded. "But Dad was no sweetheart. And when Mom...when they split up, he turned bitter."
"Was there another person involved?"
Every fiber in her body rallied to her mother's defense. "Mother had a male friend, but she was not having an affair."
"Although your dad thought so?"
She pursed her mouth and nodded slowly. "So he kept me from her—not because he wanted to raise me, but to punish her."
"Your dad is crazy for you. At Christmas, every other sentence out of his mouth is 'Roxann is so intelligent.' "
She smirked. "Just to aggravate Dee." Besides, only she knew that he'd been talking in code—how many times had her father said he'd rather have a child who was "smart" than "intelligent"? She was certain he'd framed her diploma as a mocking reminder of how she'd wasted her education.
"Where are we going?" Angora asked, as if she suddenly cared.
"To South Bend."
Her eyes lit up. "For Homecoming?"
"Well...I guess the timing is right. I'm actually going to stay with Nell Oney for a few days—do you remember Dr. Oney?"
Angora frowned. "Yeah. Didn't she teach philosophy?"
Roxann nodded. "And she got me involved in the Rescue program." Roxann didn't need a shrink to tell her Nell had been the mother figure she'd craved—wise, calm, attentive. She'd wanted to stay in touch with the woman who had taken a special interest in her, but the university and the people connected to it represented too many bittersweet memories.
"Do you two have business to take care of?" Angora asked.
"Sort of."
"Do you think she'll mind if I'm along?"
"No, but you can't discuss any of the things I've told you about the program with anyone."
"You of all people know I can keep a secret."
Roxann glanced over, her stomach knotted. "Don't, Angora."
For the split second, a spark of defiance shone in Angora's wide blue eyes, and Roxann had the horrible feeling that Angora would lash out at her parents and the world by divulging their secret. There was nothing more dangerous than a person who felt as if they had nothing left to lose. She swallowed.
"Roxann, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"
At the eerily serious note in her cousin's voice, warning bells chimed in her head. "Everyone has moments of extreme anger," she said carefully.
"No," Angora said, her gaze locked on Roxann's, her pupils dilated. "I mean really kill someone." In her lap, her hands convulsed. "I think I could kill Trenton and not feel a bit guilty."
A chill tickled the back of Roxann's neck as she recalled moments in college when she'd questioned Angora's stability. "Passion is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it can feel like hate instead of love."
But Angora seemed to be somewhere else. "All I know is that I put my life on hold too many times because of promises men made to me." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. "What makes the beasts think they can use a woman and then toss her aside when she becomes inconvenient?"
Roxann used her most soothing tone. "You're hurting right now, but you'll feel better by the time we get to South Bend."
Angora's eyes welled up, and her mouth tightened. "I swear on my crown, the next man who jerks me around is going to wish he hadn't."
Her cousin wouldn't be the first repressed woman to snap and retaliate, ergo all those news interviews with wide-eyed neighbors in their robes saying, "She seemed like such a nice woman."
Then as quickly as it came, the glimmer in her cousin's eyes vanished, replaced by a contrite
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