Bittersweet by Shewanda Pugh Read Free Book Online Page A

season hung like a veil without all the trappings of Christmas. Edy found herself staring out the window at a dirt covered ground, heart heavy with the absence of snow. Brilliant lights twinkling her house and the rush of holiday bustle coursed like withdrawal through her veins. Edy needed a downtown where she could window shop with Hassan and ogle decorations and a pond where they’d skate hand in hand ‘til fatigued. She wanted twin Dysons all handsome and teasing in crimson ties with Lawrence burying a blush when they got up to their stupidness. The swollen, towering, festive tree, practically blinding with lights at the Dyson house and that five-foot gingerbread replica that had been everything from Buckingham Palace complete with guards to Rockefeller Plaza over the years. They made Christmas grand, Edy realized, and she missed that now that it was gone.
    A draft ran through the Kentucky house and right through her. Some small, sullen part of her wondered if she were the source, with all these thoughts of Christmas and missing home. Edy steeled herself with a blanket around the shoulders, gave Hassan a glance as he slept, and geared up the laptop for a peek on Facebook. There really wasn’t much else to do on their farm. Anyway, it didn’t take long to fire up. Or to see that she had an arsenal of notifications and inbox messages. Getting shot at made a girl irresistible, it turned out.
    Edy heard from her father on Christmas morning in a conversation that skidded to a meandering end when she asked about her mom. Campaigning. Campaigning on Christmas Day? Without her husband? That sounds was weird even for her. Hadn’t she dragged them around as a family because she needed to present an ideal political image?
      On the up side, her father had news about Wyatt. Real news.
    “Well,” her father said carefully. “The bullets hit his sternum and lungs. In fact, he’s had to have surgical repairs made on one of his lung. He was on a ventilator, but he’s doing better now. He’s already moved on to respiratory therapy.”
    Hassan let loose a rocket of an exhale when she told him. And it hit her. Wyatt had taken a bullet for meant him. One life would have been traded for another. How do you begin to repay such a debt? Who do you owe it to, exactly? To the life taken away or to those grieving and left behind? Well, on that day they wouldn’t find out.
    Edy whipped Hassan into the fiercest embrace and squealed at the rare bit of luck that let her catch him falling off balance. They tumbled together in a tangle of limbs and he shifted to bear the brunt of the fall with his shoulder.
    They lay on the floor of her grandparents’ kitchen, smiling sort of stupidly and content with that. His gaze swept her face in little arcs, like a brush painting on canvas, delicate in strokes.
    “If you’re not going to kiss get off my floor,” Edy’s grandmother said as she appeared, upside down above them. “Anyway, I haven’t mopped in ages.”
    Edy sat up and looked at her shoulder. A white dust stain arched the back half of her shoulder. Hassan twisted around to show he had one of his own.
    “See? Put ‘em together and they make a heart,” her grandmother said. “It’s destiny. Now come and see your Christmas gift.” She paused long enough to frown at Hassan. “Except you’re not Christian, right? So, what should I call it?”
    “Just call it a gift,” he said with an even smile.
    “Good.” Edy’s grandmother rushed to the tree. “I spent all night working to make these.” After rooting under branches, she came away with two boxes. “One for each.”
    Edy exchanged a look with Hassan. As it were, her nutty grandma looked far too pleased. They took their presents to the couch, unwrapped them, and exchanged a smallish smile.
    Fruit cakes. How appropriate.
     
     
     

Ten
    Another Kentucky night. Winter stillness. Grass crunched underfoot as tree branches swayed to an arctic, whistling melody. Fog tickled at