Dearest Clementine: Dark and Romantic Monstrous Tales (Letters Book 1) by Candace Robinson

Author:Candace Robinson [Robinson, Candace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-06T05:00:00+00:00

For the next four weeks, Frankie lay in bed, regaining strength, losing strength. It was an endless repetition. Her sisters had never lasted this long once they came down with the sickness, but she was fighting.

Gordon’s image was always there, and by her ability to see him, she knew she wasn’t getting any better.

Three times a day, Felisha would hurry and set down the tray of food and take away the old one. Her cousin stared at her each time as if she wished Frankie was dead. Sometimes Frankie wished she were dead, too, but then Gordon was there to discuss things with.

Since he had talked to her about his past, Gordon remained mum on the subject. His words about spilling blood had been wicked, but somehow she could see past it and wanted to know more.

The door unlocked and opened, and Felisha set down the tray. “I heard you talking to yourself. You’re going mad just like your sisters, speaking to things that aren’t there,” Felisha seethed and slammed the door.

For a long moment, Frankie studied the door and wondered what it would be like to draw a line with a knife across her cousin’s throat. But then she shook the thought away. It was only her being angry again, that devil she had to hold at bay.

Gordon placed the tray in Frankie’s lap and she brought a spoonful of soup to her mouth. She ate quickly and then drank the bowl full of broth.

After finishing, she set the bowl to the side and her stomach grew queasy. She tried to keep everything down, but she couldn’t stop it and all the food came barreling back up into the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Gordon, wiping her mouth with a napkin as she coughed.

Gordon didn’t say anything—he peered down with a frown at the bowl and then at Frankie’s face. “I think there’s something wrong with the food.”

“What do you mean?” All she could see was her bile, and her face heated because she’d expelled the contents of her stomach in front of him. She took the tray and set it by the door, but Gordon was already behind her.

“Do you notice you get worse after you eat?” Gordon snapped, but not at her. “But then when you can’t eat for a while, you become slightly better. It seems to be a form of repetition.”

“Maybe it’s something with my stomach. I prepared all the food myself for Wendy. It can’t be that.” As she thought about her youngest sister, Wendy had gotten sick, but she had never stopped eating. Some days, Frankie couldn’t eat at all.

“You handled all of it?”

She thought long and hard about her movements, cutting carrots, dicing potatoes, preparing the meat. “Yes, everything except for the spices.”

“It has to be the spices then,” Gordon suggested, rubbing at his chin. “Where do you keep them?”

“In the far back of the cabinet beside the stove.”

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

She watched as he walked through the wall and left her alone.

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