asked.
“Do you realize that Henry Whitehead is the second man I’ve dated who has died?”
“So?” Eva shrugged. “It’s not like you’re the black widow or anything. It’s just bad luck.”
Ah, the simplicity of youth. So untainted by the real world. Then Lexie remembered Madame Evangeline’s warnings. Should she give them any consideration? Was someone jealous of her? Should she beware the Greek?
What Greek?
For goodness sake. It was silly of her to even take that fortune-telling nonsense into consideration. What was wrong with her, anyway?
“Mom?”
Lexie pulled herself from her deep thoughts. “Yes, honey?”
“Have you heard from Dad lately?”
“No. Have you?”
Eva shook her head, her chocolate brown eyes, the color of her father’s, sad.
“He’s probably just busy,” Lexie reassured her.
“With Davina and their new baby, I bet. I’m sure she’s had it by now.”
“No doubt. Unless she has the gestation period of an elephant.”
“So I could have a little half brother or sister andI don’t even know its name.”
Lexie didn’t say anything. She took another drink of lemonade.
“Why didn’t you and Dad have any more kids besides me?” Eva tucked strands of hair behind her ears and stared earnestly at her mother.
Memories flooded Lexie’s mind and she wanted to cry out, but she held back. Should she tell Eva or not? Her heart twisted.
“Mom, are you all right?”
Lexie nodded. Eva was eighteen years old, a college student. She was mature enough to handle the truth. It was time. “You had a sister. I named her Elena.”
Eva’s eyes went wide. “What happened? Oh, my gosh, I don’t remember any little sister.”
“You wouldn’t. I was only four months pregnant when I miscarried. I fell down the stairs.”
“I think I remember that, but I didn’t know you were going to have a baby.”
“You were only four, sweetie. You wouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Eva reached across the table and took Lexie’s hand. “That must have been pretty awful.”
“It was. But I didn’t just fall, Eva. I was pushed.”
“Pushed? Who pushed you?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course I do! I’ll go kick their butt!”
“No you won’t,” Lexie said quietly. “It was your father.”
Eva’s eyes filled with tears. “Dad? He … he did that to you?”
Lexie recalled Detective Stevenson’s question about whether or not her ex-husband was violent. She had lied. Lied to cover her own embarrassment that she’d put up with his uncontrollable temper for so long and made excuses for his behavior. She’d been so afraid to leave. So afraid of admitting to folks back home she’d made a mistake. And so very afraid of not being able to take care of Eva on her own.
Miserable, Lexie nodded. “He was angry about something I had said or done. It’s been so long now, I don’t even remember.”
“He was mean to you a lot, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.” Lexie wiped hot tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I’ve known all along,” Eva said. “I have memories.”
“Of what?” Lexie was horrified. She thought she’d hidden her bruises, her fear, and her shame from her daughter.
“His yelling. His slapping and hitting. I remember him coming at you with a gun one time, threatening to shoot you. I remember him locking you out of the house. I cried because I was afraid you’d be cold.”
“Oh, sweetie. You saw all that?” Lexie came around and hugged her daughter. “I tried to spare you the truth. And you knew all along. What a fool I was.”
“Most of it happened at night when you both thought I was asleep. But I’d hear you two and wake up. I’d sit at the top of the stairs and listen. Then I’d sneak back to bed and cry myself to sleep. In the morning, I’d convince myself I’d imagined everything—that it had all been a nightmare.”
Lexie took Eva’s head between her hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“I’m sorry,
“Do you realize that Henry Whitehead is the second man I’ve dated who has died?”
“So?” Eva shrugged. “It’s not like you’re the black widow or anything. It’s just bad luck.”
Ah, the simplicity of youth. So untainted by the real world. Then Lexie remembered Madame Evangeline’s warnings. Should she give them any consideration? Was someone jealous of her? Should she beware the Greek?
What Greek?
For goodness sake. It was silly of her to even take that fortune-telling nonsense into consideration. What was wrong with her, anyway?
“Mom?”
Lexie pulled herself from her deep thoughts. “Yes, honey?”
“Have you heard from Dad lately?”
“No. Have you?”
Eva shook her head, her chocolate brown eyes, the color of her father’s, sad.
“He’s probably just busy,” Lexie reassured her.
“With Davina and their new baby, I bet. I’m sure she’s had it by now.”
“No doubt. Unless she has the gestation period of an elephant.”
“So I could have a little half brother or sister andI don’t even know its name.”
Lexie didn’t say anything. She took another drink of lemonade.
“Why didn’t you and Dad have any more kids besides me?” Eva tucked strands of hair behind her ears and stared earnestly at her mother.
Memories flooded Lexie’s mind and she wanted to cry out, but she held back. Should she tell Eva or not? Her heart twisted.
“Mom, are you all right?”
Lexie nodded. Eva was eighteen years old, a college student. She was mature enough to handle the truth. It was time. “You had a sister. I named her Elena.”
Eva’s eyes went wide. “What happened? Oh, my gosh, I don’t remember any little sister.”
“You wouldn’t. I was only four months pregnant when I miscarried. I fell down the stairs.”
“I think I remember that, but I didn’t know you were going to have a baby.”
“You were only four, sweetie. You wouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Eva reached across the table and took Lexie’s hand. “That must have been pretty awful.”
“It was. But I didn’t just fall, Eva. I was pushed.”
“Pushed? Who pushed you?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course I do! I’ll go kick their butt!”
“No you won’t,” Lexie said quietly. “It was your father.”
Eva’s eyes filled with tears. “Dad? He … he did that to you?”
Lexie recalled Detective Stevenson’s question about whether or not her ex-husband was violent. She had lied. Lied to cover her own embarrassment that she’d put up with his uncontrollable temper for so long and made excuses for his behavior. She’d been so afraid to leave. So afraid of admitting to folks back home she’d made a mistake. And so very afraid of not being able to take care of Eva on her own.
Miserable, Lexie nodded. “He was angry about something I had said or done. It’s been so long now, I don’t even remember.”
“He was mean to you a lot, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.” Lexie wiped hot tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I’ve known all along,” Eva said. “I have memories.”
“Of what?” Lexie was horrified. She thought she’d hidden her bruises, her fear, and her shame from her daughter.
“His yelling. His slapping and hitting. I remember him coming at you with a gun one time, threatening to shoot you. I remember him locking you out of the house. I cried because I was afraid you’d be cold.”
“Oh, sweetie. You saw all that?” Lexie came around and hugged her daughter. “I tried to spare you the truth. And you knew all along. What a fool I was.”
“Most of it happened at night when you both thought I was asleep. But I’d hear you two and wake up. I’d sit at the top of the stairs and listen. Then I’d sneak back to bed and cry myself to sleep. In the morning, I’d convince myself I’d imagined everything—that it had all been a nightmare.”
Lexie took Eva’s head between her hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“I’m sorry,
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