Mending Places by Denise Hunter Read Free Book Online

characters had smoke coming from their ears when they were angry. There was so much heat and fury in her, it was a wonder her own ears weren’t steaming.
    “Mommy?” Alex called from his room.
    She took a deep breath. “It’s all right, honey. Mommy just dropped something. Go to sleep.”
    “Okay”
    Nothing was all right. Her world was falling apart and, with it, the boys’ world too. What would become of them if Keith left? She’d have to return to work, for starters.
    The mantel clock struck nine and began its chiming. Lately Keith didn’t come home until ten or even eleven. When he did, she could never hide her anger. It either manifested itself through barbed replies or stony silence. Neither worked. She could recite his excuses as well as he.
Do you think I want to work this late? Don’t you think I’d rather be home, sacked out in front of the TV? Successful businesses don’t just happen on their own, you know. I’m doing this for you.
    Ha! What a joke. Rage tore through her like a violent wind, and she set down her half-empty glass before she threw it too. After fishing a towel from the drawer, she got down on the floor to mop up the mess.
    What would she say when he came home? How would he react? Would he tell her the truth? Would he tell her who it was? Did she know the woman?
Oh, please, God, don’t let it be someone I know.
    She tossed the towel in the washer and went to clean up the shards of glass on the hearth. She picked up the big pieces first, then moved on to the tiny fragments, almost wishing she’d cut her hand. Anything to take her mind off the internal pain she was feeling. She retrieved a broom and trash can and swept the last of the glass slivers into it. If only cleaning up her marriage could be accomplished as easily.
    Headlights chased across the expansive living room wall, then she heard the familiar squeak of the garage-door opener. Natalie settled her self on the couch.
Help me, God, please help me.
    The door clicked open, and she waited in silence until Keith rounded the corner. “Hi,” he muttered, then proceeded to empty his pockets of change and business cards onto the desk.
    Her mind flew back a scarce twelve hours ago when it had fallen from his pocket. It seemed like days ago, not hours. She wondered if he had one in his pocket now.
No,
she thought bitterly.
He’d probably already used it.
She observed him with new eyes. Suspicious eyes. His pants hung loosely on his hips, and even his face seemed thinner. Had he lost weight for
her?
    Keith went to the kitchen, and she heard him grabbing a can of soda from the fridge. When he returned, he collapsed in his La-Z-Boy, kicking out the footrest, and flicked on the TV with the remote. Didn’t he notice how quiet she was? Did he think her silence was of the I’m-angry-you’re-late variety? Couldn’t he feel the difference? Couldn’t he feel the cold vibrations in the air?
    Apparently not. He was already absorbed in a baseball game.
    A commercial came on. “Is there anything to eat in there? I’m starving.”
    “There’s meatloaf in the fridge.” If he thought she was going to wait on him, he’d better think again. He was just in the kitchen himself, why couldn’t he get his own? How could he even talk about food when he was betraying her?
    Her hand reached down, and she felt for the evidence in her pocket. A visual aid, in case he claimed ignorance. How should she start? With an accusation? What if by some miracle he had another logical reason for carrying around a condom?
    No, not an accusation. If she were somehow mistaken, he would never forgive her.
    “I hung up your clothes in the bedroom today.” Somehow her voice sounded normal, though her heart felt as though it might explode.
    He took a sip of Coke. “Is that what’s got you so upset?”
    She gave him an ounce of credit for noticing something was wrong.
    “Look, I’ll try to do better, okay?”
    “Something fell out of your pants.” She didn’t look