Cry Wolf by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online Page A

sad. It scared Laurel something terrible when her mother went into one of her blue spells—crying all the time, hardly ever getting out of her nightclothes, shutting herself up in her rooms—the way she had done when Daddy died.
    Laurel secretly feared she was going to have the same kind of spells. She had felt that bad when Daddy died. She hadn't wanted to see anybody. And she had cried and cried. She had cried so hard, she thought she might just turn herself inside out the way Daddy had always teased her she would. She and Savannah had cried together. She had slipped into her sister's room through the door in the closet because Mama had told her more than once that she was a big girl now and had to sleep alone. She and Savannah had hid under the covers and cried in their pillows until they almost choked.
    Ties came out of the closet next, a whole long rack of them that had hung on the clothes pole. The ties drooped down off the rack, nearly to Tansy's feet. The maid struggled to hold it up high, skinny arms over her head so as to give her employer a good look at the strips of silk. Laurel spotted the blue one with the big bug-eyed bass painted on it and almost giggled as she remembered her father wearing it. His lucky poker playing tie, he had always said with a wink and a grin. Vivian snatched it off the rack and threw it on the Lafayette pile.
    “But Mama,” Laurel said, her heart sinking abruptly, “that was Daddy's favorite!”
    “I've always hated the sight of that tie,” Vivian grumbled, talking more to herself than to Laurel. “I thought I'd die of embarrassment every time Jefferson put it on. To think of a man in his position going around in a necktie the likes of that!”
    Laurel stepped alongside the bed and reached a hand out to brush her fingertips over the painted bass. “But Mama—”
    “Laurel, leave that be,” she snapped. “Don't you have schoolwork?”
    “No, Mama,” she murmured, inching back from the bed, staring longingly after the bass tie as her mother tossed three more on top of it.
    “Can't you see I'm busy here?”
    “Yes, Mama.”
    She backed into the corner by the dresser again and pretended to be invisible for a while. She didn't want to be sent to her room. She wanted to be in here with Daddy's things—only she didn't want Mama and dumb old moony-eyed Tansy here rooting through everything.
    She wiggled one foot over on its side and back, over and back, over and back, the way Mama always scolded her for on account of it would scuff up her shoes. Laurel didn't care. Mama was too busy throwing out Daddy's things to notice. Laurel wouldn't have cared anyway, because tears were filling up her eyes and she needed something to concentrate on so she wouldn't start to cry and get scolded for that. So she twisted her foot over and back, over and back, and chewed on her thumbnail even though there wasn't much left to chew on.
    The fingers of her left hand moved along the top of the bureau, brushing against the edge of Daddy's jewelry case. Because it made her tummy hurt to watch Mama and Tansy, she turned and looked at the heavy wooden box with its fancy inlaid top and shiny brass latch. She stroked her small hand over its smooth surface and thought of Daddy, so big, so strong, always with a smile for her and a stick of Juicy Fruit gum in his pocket.
    One big, fat tear teetered over the edge of her eyelashes and rolled down her cheek to splash on the polished bureau. Another followed. She couldn't think of Daddy's being gone forever. She missed him so much already. He was strength and safety and love. He didn't care if she scuffed up her shoes, and he always hugged her when she cried. Laurel couldn't bear the idea of losing him. She didn't want him gone to heaven with the angels the way Reverend Monroe had told her. Maybe that was selfish, and she felt bad about that, but not bad enough to give up her daddy.
    Her small fingers fumbled with the latch, and she lifted the lid on the jewelry