Red Ice for a Shroud by R.J. Harlick

Author:R.J. Harlick
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459716360
Publisher: Dundurn Press

TWENTY-ONE

Too angry to eat, I removed the soup from the stove and retreated to the living room to sit in front of the fire, where I fumed over Eric’s callousness. He had dared to accuse me of having a boyfriend. How could he? He was the one who’d started it with that woman. Who did he think he was? Besides, what had I ever seen in him? Yves was far more attractive.

I wrapped the afghan firmly around my body and sank deeper into the chesterfield. Outside, the wind flung waves of snow past the window.

His Little Red Flower. My eye.

I twitched and turned, cursed Eric and thumped the sofa cushions in an effort to get comfortable. I eventually must have fallen asleep, for I was roused by Sergei barking at the front door. I found I was shivering, and the fire had diminished to a few dying embers. The doorbell echoed from the hall. My immediate thoughts went to John-Joe. So when I raced to the front door and discovered a bundled up Yvette, I was completely taken aback.

I must’ve shown my surprise, for she immediately said, “It is Monday, three o’clock, n’est-ce pas? You still want to teach me English, non?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do, but are you well enough to be out in such weather? I thought you’d want to wait until you were completely recovered.” I didn’t voice my real thought, that I was surprised her sister had let her out.

“My arm is okay, regardez.” And she moved it up and down, although not quite with the ease of a cast-free arm. Sergei’s snout followed the movement, no doubt hoping her hand would land for a pat. Her face had more life than when I’d last seen her, and her eyes no longer wore that hunted deer look. Laughing, she bent over and gave the dog a big hug.

She answered my next question before I could ask. “Papa drive me. He return in two hours, when my lesson is finished.”

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that her brother hadn’t brought her. “Let’s get started,” I said, walking into the living room. “I don’t have anything prepared, but we can concentrate on the exercises in the next chapter. Do you have your English language book with you?”

She extracted the hardcover book from a large canvas bag along with a spiral notebook. “I work on them when I am sick. You check them, please.”

I corrected her. “You are speaking of doing something in the past, therefore you must use the past tense, ‘I worked’. Remember, we covered it a couple lessons ago.”

She smiled shyly and repeated her last sentence using the past tense perfectly, then she reached back into her bag. “I don’t, non, I mean didn’t forget. I brought you some nice vegetables from Papa’s garden.” She pulled out not one, but two very plump heads of Boston lettuce and a bag of vermillion tomatoes. Which I was very glad to see. Since her accident, I’d been subsisting on the puny, unripened produce from the Migiskan General Store.

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