Blood and Sympathy by Lori L. Clark Read Free Book Online

half an hour after I started cooking. She pulled off her boots and
smiled. "Mmm smells good. Homemade beef stroganoff?"
    "Yeah, Dad mentioned something the other day
about wanting me to make it." The timer on the oven went off and I reached
for the pot holders to check on the cupcakes. They looked perfect, so I pulled
them out. "Would you mind mixing the cream cheese frosting for me?"
    "Not at all, let me wash up first." She
disappeared up the stairs, and I checked the potatoes for doneness. When she
walked back into the kitchen, she pulled an envelope from her handbag that was
addressed to me. "Here, looks like another letter from the felon."
    I tipped my head to the side and narrowed my eyes
at her. "Felon? Really, Olivia? Don't you think that's kind of nasty, even
for you?"
    She giggled and kissed me on the check.
"Chill. I'm only teasing."
    I swiped her kiss from my cheek with the back of
my hand. "Not funny."
    "Why so defensive?" She squinted her
eyes and nodded slowly. "Oh, I see. You've got a crush on the mysterious
bad boy, haven't you?"
    I snatched the letter out of her hands.
"Don't be ridiculous."
    "That's good." She shrugged and pulled a
large mixing bowl from the cupboard. "Daddy would never approve."
    I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to tell
her that Daddy not approving was reason enough for me to become more interested. "Heaven for-fucking-bid," I mumbled.
    Dad arrived home around six, and we ate shortly
thereafter. Olivia helped me clean the kitchen and I loaded the dishwasher for
the night. I was about to go up to my room when Dad asked, "Claire, could
I have a word with you?"
    "Yes," I said. My pulse quickened as all
of the things he could possibly want to talk to me about flashed like lightning
through my brain.
    Olivia wiped and re-wiped the kitchen counter, stalling
until he cleared his throat and said, "That'll be all, Olivia. You don't
want to wash the color off the countertop, do you?"
    I stifled a snort as her cheeks turned pink. Busted ,
I wanted to say. "Oh, sure, Daddy." She draped the dishrag over the
faucet and dried her hands before leaving the room.
    He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at
the table. "Have a seat, Claire." The kitchen chair scraped against
the tile floor noisily as I took a seat. "Relax. You look like the cat
that ate the canary."
    A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"I'm fine." I was actually sweating bullets, but he didn't need to
know that. There wasn't a mean bone in my dad's body, but he still had a way of
reducing me to a quivering mess with just a look.
    "You'll be graduating soon," he drawled,
sipping from his mug. "I've been wondering what your plans are?"
    "Plans? You mean for the summer? Or…?"
    "College, Claire. Have you made any decisions
on what you're going to do about furthering your education?"
    "I was thinking maybe I'd take a year off.
Get a job and save up some money," I said.
    "I see," he said. "I want you to
know that I'm completely opposed to that idea. I know you, and I know that if
you can put something off, you will. You're a procrastinator, Claire.
Procrastinating about a decision as important as college is something you can
ill afford to do. I suggest you rethink your plans."
    I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I could
sense the disappointment dripping from his voice. Disappointment laced with
disdain.
    "I was thinking about taking some classes at the
community college. I'd like to do something with my cooking skills."
    "Really, Claire. Cooking is a hobby at the
most. Do you think you can earn a living working in the bakery at
Walmart?"
    My eyes filled with tears, and dammit, I didn't
want them to do that. I blinked and stood up from the table. "I'm sorry, Dad,
but when God was passing out kids, you got one good girl, and then you got me.
Maybe I'll never live up to your expectations, but you know what? I don't have
to."
    I turned and fled up the stairs to my room and slammed
my door hard enough to shake the