Celtic Sister by Meira Pentermann Read Free Book Online Page A

hoping you’d stay. Shows a lot of character to take on a lousy job like this and stick with it.”
    Amy looked into her tea. It was nice to be acknowledged. “Thank you.”
    “Not used to being complimented?” he asked.
    She looked into Sahil’s eyes. A very perceptive man, he seemed to be aware of her emotions. It unnerved her. She didn’t know what to say.
    “Abuse leaves subtle scars,” he explained.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Forgive me if I’m wrong.”
    “Did Raksha talk to you?”
    “She said you needed to lay low for a while. That can mean a lot of things.”
    “Really? That’s all she said? She didn’t tell you I’m hiding from my husband? That he beat me up?”
    “Raksha is not a gossip, Amy. She lets people tell their own stories.”
    It’s his story. He can tell you in his own time. That was what Raksha had said about Sahil. But she’d also told her about his alcohol problem.
    “She told me you were a drunk.”
    Sahil raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Did she now? Good for her.”
    Amy snorted. “You’re weird.”
    “No, really, I’m happy. It’s a God thing.”
    “Which god?”
    “Never mind. I just mean along the lines of meant to be. God wills it. That bit.” He placed his hands on the table. “So now we have an abusive husband, a runaway, and if she told you I’m a drunk there must be an alcoholic lurking in this story. Fascinating. Do tell.”
    Amy threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell, Sahil? Is this a joke to you?”
    His face fell. “No. Of course not. I’m sorry.”
    Amy fought the tears. If he was telling the truth about Raksha keeping secrets, he would have no idea about the miscarriage. Perhaps he saw her as a damsel who pulled herself out of distress. He did not seem like the kind of man that would relish someone else’s pain. The compassionate look in his eyes indicated quite the opposite. He really did want to hear her story, and he was naïve enough to think she was ready to share.
    “Alcoholic mother. Abusive husband. Girl who made all the wrong choices.” That was all she was willing to divulge.
    He reached his hand across and touched hers. “It’s okay. When you are ready to tell your story, know that I am here to listen. Or Raksha if you prefer. It is healing to let the details flow into the ears of others. Especially the bit about wrong choices.”
    Amy nodded but did not look up at him.
    He continued. “My wrong choices hurt not only me, but my family and my friends as well. In fact, I nearly destroyed everything I touched.”
    Amy took a sip of her tea, relieved to have switched places in the confessional.
    “My lovely sister is right. I am a drunk. I almost killed my wife.”
    Amy glared at him. This confession was a little over the top. “I think I should get back to work now.”
    Sahil nodded. “I will pray for your mother,” he said as Amy slipped out of the booth.
    “Sure,” Amy mumbled.
    “You can take tomorrow and Saturday off,” he called after her. “I like to start the week on Sunday when everyone is sleepy and quiet. Sunday through Thursday again next week okay?”
    “That’s good. Thanks.”
    “I may need to switch it up a little the following week. I’m meeting a potential supplier. I’ll keep you posted.”
    “Okay.”
    Amy worked until four p.m. and put away her supplies. Then she changed in the employees’ restroom, trading her sweat suit for Raksha’s silk shirt and black pants. Sahil had assigned her a locker to keep her stuff organized. After she tucked away her work clothing, Amy grabbed the yellow purse and slipped out the back door. Hungry and tired, she wandered into the American grill next door and headed straight for the bar. She ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of red wine.
    While she munched on her sandwich and gulped her wine, she thought about Sahil.
    He didn’t necessarily almost beat his wife to death. He didn’t say that, she chided herself. Could have been an accident, especially if it