[01] Weekend Warriors by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels [Michaels, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Washington (D.C.), Vigilantes, Female friendship, Revenge, General, Romance, Women, Suspense fiction, Sexism, Suspense, Fiction, Victims of crimes, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780821775899
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2004-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

March 2000

The room Myra called the sunroom was a beautiful room. It was an addition she’d added to the old farmhouse the year Barbara and Nikki turned thirteen. The year when sleep-overs, scout meetings, and parties took up both days of the weekends.

The sunroom was always both girl’s favorite room in the entire house. They did their homework at back-to-back desks listening to loud music while the television blared in the corner. Back then there had been a litter box in one corner and a dog bed in another corner. More often than not, Sophie and Bennie could be found snuggled together in the tufted dog bed. Both were gone now, dying of old age. Irreplaceable, Myra had elected to forego animals in her life because it was too painful when they passed on.

The room was alive with luscious green plants and tall, bushy ficus trees that somehow had managed to survive her two-year hiatus in the nether world. Charles had seen to everything, making sure he fed the plants, trimmed them back and watered them faithfully because he knew how much Myra loved the room.

He knew his beloved Myra was troubled when she lowered herself into one of the his-and-hers chairs she’d bought for them when the girls moved out. More often than not they dined off trays while they either watched or listened to television.

Life until just recently had been placid, worrisome, and boring.

“I think we should get married, Charles,” Myra blurted.

Charles lowered himself into his chair and kicked up the footrest. “That’s probably the best idea you ever had, Myra. Name the date and I’ll be there. Do you want to talk about it or is this just something that came to you in your dreams?”

“I do dream about you, darling. All the time. No, I’ve been thinking about marriage a lot since we began our little project. The main reason is, I love you. I loved you the minute I spotted you standing at the foot of Big Ben. I took your picture, remember? Then we kept meeting up at different places. Husbands and wives can’t be forced to testify against each other.”

“That’s because I was following you and the others. I was smitten the minute I saw you. I’ve always loved Americans. I can’t say I loved your parents, though. They wanted no part of me. So, you are worried about this project.”

“Anxious might be a better way of phrasing it. My parents were not a romantic couple. They were afraid you would coerce me into staying in England. That’s why they whisked me back home. The moment they found out I was pregnant they somehow managed to get Andrew Rutledge to make an honest woman of me. I regret that so deeply, Charles. I wish I had been more defiant. Andrew was a kind man, but so much older. He didn’t have a fun bone in his stodgy body. I felt terrible when he passed on. I tried to find you, to tell you we had a daughter but you were gone.

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