Dear Irene by Jan Burke Read Free Book Online

most part. I can get him to shout, but most people can’t.”
    She smiled knowingly. “That’s how you know he loves you. I read about this in a magazine at the place where I get my nails done. If he’s willing to shout when he’s around you, it means he trusts you enough to get angry with you.”
    “Well then, Jesus Christ, Barbara, I must trust you to the depths of my soul. Go home. Let me get dressed and go after him.”
    She stood up, then asked, “How do you know he didn’t just drive off?”
    “His Volvo’s at Banyon’s, he’s too tall for the Karmann Ghia, and I didn’t hear him call for a cab. There’s a beautiful beach about a block away. Where do
you
suppose he went?”
     
     
    I FOUND HIM leaning against the railing at the top of the cliff, near the steps that lead from our street down to the beach.
    “Sure you want to go through with this wedding, Harriman? Barbara as a sister-in-law? Think it over.”
    “She’s not as bad as all that.”
    I didn’t reply. Why start another argument?
    “She’s just excited about our getting married,” he said. “She’s just trying to be helpful.”
    “I’ve told you how I feel about all the help I’ve been getting lately.”
    He smiled. “You’ve mentioned it.”
    We stood there for a moment, just watching the waves below.
    “Want to go for a walk on the beach?” he asked.
    I hadn’t been able to do that in weeks. He saw me brighten at the suggestion and led the way down the stairs.
    We hadn’t walked far when he said, “You were right the other night. There
are
people who try to do too much for you.”
    “I shouldn’t let it get to me. What happened with Barbara happens to all engaged couples, I suppose. There’s going to be a lot of pressure on us now.”
    “I can’t wait to find out what Episcopalian minister in Bakersfield my mother has set up for us. But she’s probably gone further than Barbara. Watch out. If we don’t set a date, she will.”
    “Just promise me you won’t ever get the two of them together. God knows what they’d plan for our lives.”
    He shuddered and I laughed.
    He took my hand as we made our way down the beach. In spite of the run-in with Barbara, I was feeling good. Gradually, something was reawakening within me. It might have been my courage.
     

6
     
    M ONDAY WAS A COOL but sunny day, my first day driving myself to work. In celebration of that newfound independence, I put the top down on the Karmann Ghia and took to the streets of Las Piernas at a speed that created a biting windchill factor inside the car. Well worth it.
    Even downtown morning traffic didn’t dampen my spirits. I parked the car, put the top up, and went into work.
    When I got to my desk, the phone rang. I answered.
    Nothing. Not even breathing.
    “Sorry, wrong number,” I said, and hung up.
    I took off my coat and started sorting my mail. There’s always a lot of mail to deal with on a Monday, but with the approach of Christmas, the usual onslaught tripled. A large percentage of it arrived in colored envelopes.
    Since receiving the letter from Thanatos, I had developed a daily postal ritual. First, I carefully separated out all mail in colored envelopes. Then I sorted the colored envelopes. As I went through them, I made a special stack for those without return addresses, addressed to me on white computer labels. This would be the last stack I opened. I started in on my other mail.
    The phone rang again. Again, no one on the line. I hung up and called Doris, the switchboard operator. No, she hadn’t put any calls through to me that morning.
    I shrugged it off. The calls weren’t being made after lunch time, so they probably weren’t being made by the watcher. And there was no watcher anyway, I reminded myself. None. No one. Think about something else. At this rate, someday I would be the one writing letters about dogs picking Super Bowl winners.
    Still, it made me feel a little spooky about the last stack of mail. I got a cup of