Daybreak: The Days of Redemption Series, Book One by Shelley Shepard Gray

discuss this a moment longer. I refuse to do it.” She had the gall to look toward Marie. “I’d like some more kaffi ,” she said quietly. “And, Elsie, I want you to bring your grandfather some more biscuits.”
    Both women had done as she bid. As they’d always done.
    But now it felt wrong. Seeing his sweet wife waiting on his mother, seeing Elsie look miserable—he’d felt as helpless as a child. Which, of course, was how his parents were treating him.
    “We will discuss this again,” he’d said.
    “That is enough, Peter,” his father cautioned, his voice as unwavering as a rod of steel. “You are looking for problems that don’t exist. You’ll cause a lifetime of regret, son.”
    Peter had been so stunned by his parents deftly turning the blame for their secrets into his fault for wanting to know the whole story that he’d felt physically ill.
    He could only assume they were hiding something dark and terrible. It wasn’t all that uncommon for Englischers to fall for Amish people and change their ways, joining the church after consideration and lots of study. There was nothing shameful about it. If his parents were just concealing a complicated love story, they would have told them their story long ago.
    Fearing that he would lose his breakfast in front of the family, he’d practically run to the bathroom.
    He cooled his face with a damp washcloth. Brushed his teeth. Took deep breaths. But the tight knot of anger steadfastly stayed put.
    Finally, he gave in to temptation, pulled out the bottle of vodka he’d taken care to hide in the back corner of the cupboard under his sink, and poured a small amount of liquor into a Dixie cup. Swallowed the alcohol in one long sip. And then poured another shot.
    Almost immediately, he felt the tension in his muscles dissipate as his nerves began to steady.
    And he was almost ready to go back out and confront his demons. But not quite yet. And definitely not in his wife’s presence.
    There was still one person who he felt always saw the best in him, and that was Marie. No way did he want to disappoint her.
    “Peter?” she called again, this time accompanied with a fierce knock. “Please answer. I’m starting’ to get concerned.”
    “I’m fine, Marie.”
    “Are you sure?” The doorknob jiggled. “Unlock the door.”
    “Not yet,” he replied after vigorously washing out his mouth again with Listerine. There was no way he could come out of the room with the scent of liquor on his breath. “Marie, go on now. I’ll be out in a minute.”
    “Are you sure?” She lowered her voice. “Do you need some help? Unlock the door, Peter, so I can come in . . .”
    Glancing at himself in the mirror, he grimaced. Looking back at him was a person who was on the verge of a breakdown.
    Hating who he was becoming, he gripped the countertop, and waited for his eyes to focus. “Marie, let a man have his privacy, why don’tcha? Please, don’t worry so.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Her words were muffled. Full of hurt. Maybe even slightly embarrassed. But he heard something else, too. A thread of worry and doubt. Yes, her tone was laced with mistrust.
    Gathering the last vestiges of his patience, he murmured, “You’re not intruding, Marie. I just need one more moment alone. I’ll be right out. I promise.”
    He heard shuffling on the other side. “If you’re sure . . .”
    “I am very sure.”
    When he heard her walk away, he hid the bottle back under the sink, behind an old assortment of shampoo and bars of soap and tissue.
    After twenty-five years of marriage, his wife was starting to mistrust him.
    He had married a smart woman.
    And he was starting to feel as if she’d married a very weak man.
    Something was going to need to be done soon. He couldn’t continue the way he was, holding everything inside, pretending he was fine when he wasn’t. All the subterfuge was taking a toll on his body and his soul. He had the sweetest wife in