AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Arm raised.
In the last second before he hit me, I found myself wondering why.
He didn’t love me.
What had I done to warrant this rage?
The pain was so intense I didn’t feel it both times. I just hit the wall and slid down, stunned. Breathless.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MERRICK
I was on my way home that night when I decided it was time I followed Gretchen’s suggestion and talked to my aunts about Edwin. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have, but there was something that had been bothering me for a while and it just wouldn’t go away.
Clara had said she thought her father drank. But I’d spent my entire life thinking he was sober. It was time I got some answers.
The lights were on in the farmhouse as I pulled up the drive. I stepped out, breathing the clear air in, and lit a cigarette.
Overhead, the stars burned bright, unhampered by city lights. An owl hooted softly in the dark treeline and the wind picked up just enough that I could smell the damp, mushroom scent of the forest.
I’d grown up here and every time I was back, a familiar sense of peace settled in my chest.
Finishing my cigarette, I walked up the drive and knocked. There was a rattle and Daphne pulled the door ajar, her face splitting in a grin.
“Merrick!” she said. “Ophelia, guess who’s here.”
They were all over me, dragging me into the kitchen. I complimented their kitchen renovation and they asked me the usual series of invasive questions. Was I drinking too much? Eating enough? Seeing anyone?
Ten minutes later, I was sitting at the table with a cup of tea that smelled like flowers. It probably was. Ophelia gathered herbs and plants from the fields and made use of them in her kitchen.
“How’s Clara?” Daphne asked, sitting down across the table.
“She’s really good,” I said.
“Is she engaged yet?”
“No, not yet,” I said. “Soon maybe.”
Ophelia shot her wife a look that wasn’t lost on me. A pointed stare like she knew something she wasn’t saying. Then she put a hand on her hip and started rummaging through the breadbox.
“Do you want something to eat?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll have dinner when I get home.”
There was a short silence as Ophelia ignored me and made up a plate of bread with butter and jam. Then she took a seat beside Daphne, staring at me until I took a bite.
“So were you just passing by?” Daphne asked.
I leaned back, wiping the jam from my fingers.
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you both about something,” I said. “Especially you, Ophelia.”
“Everything okay?” Daphne asked.
I nodded. “I was just hoping to ask you about Efa.”
There was dead silence in the kitchen. My aunts looked at each other and their brows creased in tandem. Ophelia bit her lip and took a deep breath.
