To the Grave by Carlene Thompson

Author:Carlene Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

1

“Well, well, how’s my little girl tonight?” A dashing Ken Nordine sailed into the room, rushing to Mary and presenting her with droopy-petaled carnations cradled in a petite, round plastic vase. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

So worried you haven’t called all day? Dana wondered furiously. She almost burst out with a scathing remark about his vast concern when she saw Mary smiling as she delightedly reached small hands for the flower arrangement. Then Dana saw Bridget Fenmore—glowing, svelte, perfectly made up and coiffed—gliding close behind Ken. Dana wore only lotion on her dry face, and she hadn’t even combed her hair for hours.

“Look who I’ve brought with me!” Ken continued to boom, ignoring Dana. “Bridget! She just wouldn’t let me come see you without bringing her. She’s been worried, too!”

I’ll bet, Dana fumed as Bridget kissed Mary’s pale cheek, then giggled as she wiped away lip gloss. “Why, you look beautiful, Mary! Not like you’ve been sick at all!”

“She almost died,” Dana snapped.

It was a lie. Mary looked at her mother, horrified, and Dana could have bitten off her tongue. “I mean, if we hadn’t gotten her to the hospital in time. The operation went just fine, though. The doctor is very pleased.” She smiled at her five-year-old daughter, who still clutched the pitifully small collection of carnations. Dana raced on. “The doctor said she’s making a miraculous recovery. She’ll be good as new in no time. Better than new! She’ll be perfect! Not that she wasn’t always perfect. Why, she’s just—”

Everyone stared at Dana in shocked expectancy, obviously wondering what would come out of her mouth next. But Dana had no words left. She’d stayed at the hospital all night, sleeping fitfully in the uncomfortable chair in Mary’s room, frequently awakening to gaze at the delicate five-year-old she’d so often pushed aside, overlooked, occasionally resented in her desperation for the freedom to always keep an eye on her husband, whom she’d made the most important person in her life.

Ken Nordine—what a fool she’d been to sacrifice herself and her daughter for a man like him, Dana had thought in belated comprehension as the shadows of the seemingly endless night had surrounded her. Her sweet, innocent, defenseless daughter should have been her focus, her cherished reason for living, not an uncaring egomaniac like Ken.

Dana realized Ken and Bridget were still staring at her and she could have kissed Mary, who announced importantly, “I got more flowers! The blue … blue…” She looked at her mother.

“Irises,” Dana supplied.

“The blue irises are from my teacher. The orange tulips are from Grandma and Grandpa ’cause pun’kins are orange and Halloween’s almost here. All the yellow roses are from my real boyfriend, even though he doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend. He visited me today.” Mary’s voice softened. “He’s lots older than me but real handsome. He has dark hair like Prince Charming in my fairy-tale book. That’s what I call him.”

“Who is this Prince Charming?” Ken asked.

“He’s a secret.” Mary grinned.

Ken looked at Dana, who innocently lifted her shoulders.

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