A Sad Soul Can Kill You by Catherine Flowers Read Free Book Online Page A

said quietly, and then turned up the volume on the television set.
    â€œI will,” she said as she stormed up the stairs and entered what used to be the bedroom they shared.
    She changed out of her nursing uniform into a pair of jeans and a plain white cotton tee shirt and quickly went back downstairs. She clutched her Bible and stopped at the entrance to the living room. “Can you at least come to the evening service with me tonight?”
    â€œNo, thank you,” Lorenzo answered without diverting his attention from the television set. “I’m good.”
    â€œNo, you’re not good,” she said as she stomped back up the stairs to her room. She opened her journal and flipped to the page with the calendar printed on it. She placed an “X” on the eighth day of February, and then she placed the leather-bound book on top of her partially packed suitcase in the closet.
    You’re a long way from good , she thought as she returned downstairs and slammed the front door behind her.

Chapter Seven
    Homer tried to maintain his composure as he stood at his window watching Tia slam the front door of her house and storm down the walkway to her SUV. He watched his neighbor speed out of the cul-de-sac and make a left turn without slowing down or signaling.
    It wasn’t the phone call he’d received earlier from his mother that had upset him. It was the fact that she actually thought he would pick her up from the hospital, and allow her to live in his home. That’s what had him bothered. He tapped his fingers across the windowpane.
    His mother had willingly relinquished her rights the day she left him with her mother, his grandmother, and then made it legal when he was eight years old. He was certainly not going to come to her rescue now when she had never been there for him. Let her stay in the hospital or somewhere else, but it would not be with him. That was not going to happen.
    He looked up at the mishmash of clouds sprawled indiscriminately across the fading aqua blue sky. There was no break in the frigid temperatures forecast for tomorrow; only more of the same iciness.
    â€œWas that your mother on the phone?”
    Homer sighed as he turned to see his wife, Sandra, staring at him.
    â€œYes,” his answer came short and quick.
    â€œWhat’d she want?”
    â€œShe just wanted to see how I was doing,” he answered impatiently as he continued to stare at her.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked frowning.
    â€œI know you’re not planning on leaving the house with that top on.”
    Sandra looked down at the V-neck blouse she had on. It stopped three inches from her neck, barely revealing the edges of her collarbone. She frowned. “What’s wrong with this shirt?”
    â€œWell, for one thing, your chest is all out.”
    â€œNo, it’s not,” she said softly. “You can’t see anything.”
    His eyes grew big. “Oh, I can see plenty!” he said. “And ain’t nobody got time for that.”
    â€œWhatever,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked out of the bedroom and sat down on the couch.
    She tried to justify his comments by telling herself that he only said those things because he cared about how she looked. But a feeling of weariness had been festering in her. It was mentally exhausting to keep rationalizing his controlling ways by placing them under the guise of care and concern. She was supposed to be his wife, not his child.
    She turned on the television just in time for the five o’clock news. The anchorman was talking about the payroll tax hike that went into effect in January, and how it had caused an estimated reduction in the average American worker’s paycheck by almost $100 per month.
    â€œMan,” she mumbled. “Pretty soon nobody’s gonna have any money but the rich!”
    Homer had followed her into the living room. Although their immaculate ranch-style house was the