Don't Cry Now by Joy Fielding Read Free Book Online

breath. “Sweetheart,” she said, “We’re so sorry to have to tell you this—”
    â€œI’m talking to my father,” the girl said sharply, the force of her rebuke throwing Bonnie off-balance, as if she had been physically pushed out of the way. Bonnie grabbed for the railing, lowering herself down until she was sitting on the stairs. “What happened to my mother?” Lauren demanded of her father.
    â€œShe’s dead,” he said simply.
    For several seconds, Lauren said nothing. Bonnie wanted desperately to go to her, to take the child in her arms, tell her not to worry, that they would look after her, that she would love her as if she were her own, that everything would be all right, but Lauren’s invisible hands were on her shoulders, holding her down, refusing her comfort.
    â€œShe was a lousy driver,” Lauren was whispering. “I was always telling her to slow down, but she never would, and she was constantly yelling at everyone else on the road, calling them all sorts of names, you should have heard her. I kept telling her to calm down, that there was nothing anyone could do about the traffic, but—”
    â€œIt wasn’t a car accident,” Rod interrupted.
    â€œWhat?” The word froze on Lauren’s lips. Obviously, she couldn’t imagine any other possibility. “How then?” she asked finally.
    â€œShe was shot,” Rod answered.
    â€œShot?” Lauren’s eyes frantically searched the room, inadvertently connecting with Bonnie’s before turning abruptly away. “You mean she was murdered?”
    â€œThe police aren’t sure exactly what happened,” Rod hedged.
    â€œThe police?”
    â€œThey’ll be here soon.”
    â€œMy mother was murdered?” Lauren asked again.
    â€œIt looks that way.”
    Lauren walked to the front door with purposeful strides as Bonnie rose to her feet. Where was the girl going? But Lauren reversed herself when she got to the door, striding with equal purpose back into the front hall, although there was no purpose that Bonnie could determine, other than to keep moving. Maybe that was purpose enough.
    â€œWho?” Lauren asked. “Do they know who?”
    Rod shook his head.
    â€œWhere? Where did this happen?”
    â€œAn open house your mother was having on Lombard Street.”
    Tears filled Lauren’s eyes. She walked briskly back to the front door, pivoted sharply on the thick heels of her black oxfords, and returned to the middle of the hall. “How did you find out about this?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, why did the police contact you, and not me and Sam?”
    â€œI’m the one who found her,” Bonnie replied after a pause.
    It was as if time suddenly stopped, Bonnie thought later, as if none of what was happening was actually taking place in the moment, as if it had already occurred long ago and somewhere far away, and they were merely watching a replay of the whole horrible scene through one of Rod’s television monitors, everything happening in slow motion and just so subtly out of sync: Lauren’s head spinning toward Bonnie a frame at a time, her ponytail lifting lazily into the air, then slapping against her right shoulder in a series of exaggerated jerks, tears hovering under widely expanded pupils, hands shooting into the air, scratching at it like fingernails across a chalkboard, her mouth opening in a silent scream.
    And then there was chaos as the scene snapped back into the present, unwinding with ferocious and unforgiving speed. Bonnie watched in horror as Lauren flew across the room toward her, her fists connecting with Bonnie’schest and face, her feet targeting her legs. The onslaught was so sudden, so terrifying, so unexpected, that Bonnie had little time to defend herself against the blows. Suddenly, everyone was screaming.
    â€œLauren, for God’s sake,” Rod was yelling, trying to