Contemporary Women's Fiction: Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar (Humorous Women's Fiction) by Carol Heilman Read Free Book Online Page B

fix us a real hot toddy, that might be different.
    I dropped the little cup into her wastebasket, but when I returned to Alice’s bedroom, she insisted she needed it. She crushed our cups, wrapped them in a tissue, then took our trash and added it to a small plastic bag full of similar wads leaking bits of green liquid. Instead of putting the bag back in a drawer where it had come from, she stuffed it into a narrow space between her chest of drawers and the wall.
    She looked at me with a crooked grin. “As long as the big cat’s not around, the mice can play. Or drink Nyquil.”
    “Uh, right. Think I’ll turn in now. See you at breakfast. Seven sharp.”
    “Sharp indeed. Promptness is next to godliness. Just ask Miss Johnson. She runs a tight ship, that woman. Tight as a new hatband.”
    “Tell me more,” I said. “I’m all ears.”
    “A loose tongue will get you in trouble. You realize that don’t you? But ask me again. I might be ready another time. You never know.”
    Alice was talking in riddles again, and I wondered if she’d ever had a straightforward thought in her life.
    Even with an unsettled feeling, I hoped for a sweet, restful sleep. I crawled into bed with a sigh. But then, not knowing how long I’d slept, I awoke wide-eyed and listening. What was that? Where was I? Certainly not at home. Or Betty Jo’s. The small chest of drawers … the shape of a lamp on top … a lopsided rocker …
    No, not home, but my room at Sweetbriar Manor.
    All was peaceful until a shout split the silence. It sounded like it came from beyond this world. Unintelligible words were thick with sleep. Who was it? Could it be Smiley? Yep, I was pretty sure of it. Did his demons come from some battle he’d fought during the war, or from living in this place?
    Then he screamed, pouring a nightmare into the hall, under mydoor, and into the dark corners of my room. I sat straight up in bed and could’ve sworn the curtains at my window swished, though the window was closed, and the air conditioner under the window quiet.
    Moonlight spilled across my bed. “What’s happening, Charlie?” Another voice now. Dim murmurs, and then Smiley’s voice gradually became subdued. I reached for my hearing aid and listened again, but all was quiet and still. Hopefully, it would stay that way. I fluffed my pillow and eased back under the covers. My heart pounded in my chest, and for a long time my eyes refused to close.
    The next morning, my body ached like I’d been breaking hard ground with a hoe all night. The sky was dark and gloomy, my joints forecasting a storm, and I grumbled to my plate of runny scrambled eggs and cup of lukewarm coffee.
    “Betty Jo could at least call to see how I’m getting along. Just dropped me off like a bag of garbage and not a word since. Not a word.”
    Alice looked up while stirring sugar into her coffee. “Feelings worn on the sleeve turn into sour milk.”
    I glared across the table at her. “Must be nice to always have a ready answer. You’re weird, you know that? Spouting off dumb stuff all the time.” My words hung in the air as everyone seemed absorbed in eating breakfast, but I wasn’t finished. “Matter of fact, you’re all strange. It’s like living in a mental ward. Can’t even sleep at night for all the racket—”
    I caught myself, but it was too late. Looking over at Smiley, I felt terrible. His skin looked like wallpaper paste. Had he come to the table looking like that, and because I’d been feeling so sorry for myself I hadn’t noticed? Or had I caused it? His hands trembled as he raised the coffee cup to his lips.
    Sorry for my cantankerous words, I couldn’t seem to say so.
Lord
, I prayed in silence,
forgive me. I’m not the only one who has troubles. It’s because of our troubles that we’re here.
    The director’s absence during breakfast was the only bright spot in this day that already seemed too long. Not even eight o’clock yet. Someone said she was at Mission