Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Vicky stood, her serene smile on her face, the one she used when announcing that we were left to our own devices because she was heading to bed. It’d gotten dark. It was past nine, so that made sense. The girls had moved inside with a movie playing in the living room, but they were still up.
“To his credit, Manion didn’t see the alligator on the golf course. It just happened to be there.”
“Still.” Roger kept laughing. “Oh man. That’s legendary. Thinking you’re going just for a drink at a bar in Denver and ending up running from a gator on a golf course in Florida the same night?”
“Technically it was five in the morning by then.”
“Even better.” Roger sighed as he caught his breath from laughing so much.
Howard laid a hand on the table and stood. “Well, everyone…” That was the beginning of his “I’m following my wife to bed, so clean up after yourselves or you’ll hear from me” speech. Lo and Roger stood right away, reaching for the rest of the plates in front of us.
Brett started to rise.
“No, no. You stay.” Lo gestured with a soft smile. “You’re the guest. We’ll take these in and help clear everything before taking the girls home. You two stay, talk. Enjoy the night.”
Brett looked my way before he stood anyway. “Always enjoyed doing dishes when I grew up. Got no problem helping clear, especially after a meal like that.”
Roger shook his head, muttering to himself as he headed inside. “Just legendary. Legendary.”
Lo snorted, watching her husband. “You know, I’ll take you up on that offer. I’m thinking with all the sugar the girls had today, we’re going to have a struggle getting them to bed. It’ll sound like someone’s committing murder.” She walked off with a pile of plates in hand, so she didn’t see me flinch.
Brett caught it. “You okay?” He shifted all his dishes to one hand and touched my arm with the other. “She didn’t think.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t the first time Lo had made a comment like that, an off-the-cuff phrase. Roger did it too, and Howard once or twice. Vicky almost did once, but she caught herself and changed the topic.
Maybe Vicky realized more than the others.
“I’m grateful that they don’t think about it when they say things like that,” I told him. “I know they worry about the fanatics and the reporters, but they don’t think about that actual day. Not anymore. Vicky… She remembers sometimes, and she gets this sad look on her face when she looks at me.”
I wasn’t back there, not totally. I wouldn’t let myself go all the way there, but there were flashes I couldn’t stop from coming.
An image from under the bed where I’d been hiding, with the sheet hanging down.
From that angle, I’d seen the door slowly opening, his boot as he stepped inside.
I blinked, pulling myself out of the memory. I couldn’t think of it anymore. I couldn’t let myself remember what I’d heard… The screams.
“Hey.” A firm hand touched under my chin, moving to the side of my throat and resting right over my pulse. His thumb smoothed over my cheek.
I blinked again, coming more fully to the present, leaving the past behind. “Sorry,” I rasped.
His eyes had clouded over. “You were starting to shake.”
“I was?” As if on cue, I hugged myself, suddenly cold.
I bit out a laugh, then bent and grabbed the rest of the dishes on the table.
Brett watched, studying me.
I moved around him, looking over my shoulder as he began to follow. “Hope you don’t mind drying because I’m always the washer.”
“Are you now?” His face lit up, but the shadows were still there. I hated that I was the reason for them.
The screen door squeaked open, and I stepped into the kitchen. “Yep. Every time. It’s a rule around these parts. If I’m doing dishes, I’m washing.”
Lo moved past, carrying the girls’ backpacks. “Good luck wrestling that dishrag from her. I think it’s the water. It’s like she plays in it. Try to make her dry the dishes and you’ll find yourself doing the dishes alone. I eventually just gave up and let her wash every time.”
“Now, me,” Roger added, carrying a sleeping Luna in his arms. “I load up the dishwasher as much as possible. But it’s some foreign invention to them. If they have time and a choice, they’ll wash the dishes. Took me three years of persuading Vicky before they finally indulged. And that’s what they call it. An indulgence.”
Brett’s mouth curved up, taking the plate I’d washed as Roger was speaking. “Yeah?”
Lo disappeared into the living room and returned herding Cynthia and Charlotte in front of her. Both girls were sleepy, dragging their feet. “Tell Billie and Brett goodnight. Okay, girls?”
They did one better, coming over and giving us tired hugs and mumbling goodnights. Then they trudged out the door, giving one last wave.