Home Before Dark by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page B

submission. The ritual ended predictably. Dutch rubs all around, followed by Scottie’s nightly reading of Go Dog Go! and then a “’Night, guys,” and finally, blessed silence at last.
    Lila crept out from beneath the pillows and waited. Dad tapped lightly at her door.
    â€œYeah?” she called out.
    He stepped inside, hesitated. Her dad did that a lot lately. A pause, a measured beat of uncertainty that hovered between them like an unanswerable question. He never hesitated with the boys, but with her, he never plunged right in. The dim light from her computer screen saver outlined his tall, broad form. Her friends often remarked that her dad was a hottie, but she never saw him that way. She just saw her dad, who worked too hard during the week and went fishing on Eagle Lake every weekend and looked at her like she was a space alien.
    â€œHey, kiddo,” he said.
    â€œHey. Where’s Mom?”
    He gestured vaguely. “She’s helping me get a bag ready for Huntsville.” He shuffled his feet. In Lila’s room, plastered with deathrock posters, littered with schoolbooks and cheerleading gear and cosmetics, he never seemed to know quite what to do with himself, where to settle his gaze. The sight of a bra left out or—God forbid—underwear draped over a doorknob, always made him jittery. “So what do you think of your aunt Jessie?”
    Lila gave a shrug of studied nonchalance. “Don’t know. I just met her.” The fact was, Lila was sort of fascinated. Her aunt, whom she knew only from the occasional scribbled note on the back of a postcard from Indonesia or Japan, an e-mail from an Internet café in Kathmandu and the Christmas phone call—which always came the day before Christmas because of the time difference—had never seemed quite real to her. She was a remote idea, more like a character in a book or a long-dead relative, like Great Grandma Joan. In person, Jessie was interesting and maybe a little weird. Her red hair was cut chin length, the tips bleached blond around her face. A younger, thinner, hipper version of her mom, without all of Mom’s frustrated frowns, long-suffering sighs…and the veiled disapproval that always lurked at the back of her gaze.
    â€œI guess you’ll have a chance to get acquainted while she’s here.”
    Lila shrugged again, pulled a stray thread from her cutoffs. “I guess.” It was about damn time, she thought. About time something interesting happened in this family.
    â€œâ€™Night, kiddo. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.” Her dad planted a kiss on the top of her head and stepped out. She lay thinking about him and how strange it must be to go see a man’s family while the state executed him. What did he say to them? What did he feel?
    Most kids whose dads were lawyers were considered lucky. Their fathers made tons of money and drove BMWs and flew to Aspen or King Ranch in chartered planes. Lila’s dad wasn’t that sort of lawyer. She was old enough to know his work was important, but young enough to wish he got more out of it than write-ups in the paper and interviews on Court TV.
    A few minutes later, her mom came in, carrying an armload of folded laundry. “Hey, sweetie.”
    â€œHey.” Lila wasn’t sweet, and hadn’t been in a long time. And both she and her mom knew it.
    â€œTry getting these put away—”
    â€œBefore they go out of style,” Lila said, taking the stack of folded shorts and crop tops and setting them on the end of the bed—on top of yesterday’s stack. “I will.”
    Her mother sent a pointed glance at the stack, but said nothing. She didn’t have to. Lila felt the familiar accusation.
    Taking refuge in indifference, she said, “So what’s the deal with Jessie?”
    Her mom looked distracted, maybe nervous, although Lila had never really seen her mom acting nervous. She was always