Murder at Barclay Meadow by Wendy Sand Eckel Read Free Book Online Page B

wonderful.”
    â€œEd—are you kidding me?”
    â€œRose…” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I was giving you a compliment.”
    â€œFirst of all, I am anything but wonderful. And secondly…” I tried to breathe. My heart pounded. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”
    â€œDo what?” He lowered his voice. “Pay you a compliment? Do you mind telling me what’s so wrong about that?” He enunciated the ‘T.’ Staccato words. That was how Ed expressed anger. Snapping his consonants. No more. No less.
    Rebecca placed a hand on his arm. A gesture of ownership. He glanced over at her and then back at me.
    â€œI can’t believe you’re making a scene.” He stepped back and shook his head. “I guess it was a mistake to say hello. I’m sorry—”
    â€œAre you, Ed?” My voice cracked. “Are you really sorry?” No tears, no tears, no tears … I hugged myself, trying to hold them at bay.
    â€œRose…” His blue eyes were cool and narrowed with, what? Anger? Revulsion? Regret? “I’m sorry this couldn’t have been a more civilized encounter.” He turned away and guided Rebecca by her pointy elbow to the opposite end of the field.
    My heart thudded harder against my rib cage. I couldn’t breathe. “Oh, God.” I pushed the heels of my hands against my temples. I can’t faint, not here. I eased onto the ground and hugged my knees. I was trembling. I couldn’t stop. I was going into shock. No, I can’t. Not here. Not now. I can’t do that to Annie. I rested my forehead on my knees. Breathe, Rosalie. Breathe.
    I felt a hand on my back. I gasped. There. Air. I took in some air. I looked up. A boy crouched next to me. “You okay?” It was the boy without the cap.
    â€œYes. I mean, no. Not really.”
    â€œWho was that dude? He looked like a serious pant load.”
    â€œWhat? Did you just call my husband a ‘pant load’?” I laughed. “Oh, my gosh,” I said, still laughing. I don’t know why or how, but it was the release I needed. I looked up at him. “God bless you … What’s your name?”
    â€œConnor O’Malley.”
    â€œThat’s a good name,” I said. “I’m a Finnegan.”
    â€œWell, Mrs. Finnegan…” He held out his hand and helped me to stand up. “You look like you could use a beer.”
    *   *   *
    Annie and I walked arm-in-arm back to her dorm. The scent of dust and drying sweat emanated from her clothes. “I didn’t know, Mom, I swear. He never said he would be bringing her.”
    â€œI know, honey. I’m so sorry. It can’t be too much fun for you, either.” Our pace was brisk and I appreciated the chance to move. I pulled her closer to me.
    â€œHe wants to have dinner tonight, but I told him I already had plans with you.”
    â€œOh, Annie.” I brushed a stray hair from her face. I noticed a tear atop her dirty cheekbone. “This isn’t fair. It’s your first parents’ weekend. We have no business putting you through this.”
    Lampposts popped on as it grew dark. Annie’s cleats clicked on the sidewalk. “It totally sucks,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s doing this to us.” She brushed the tear away and wiped it on her shorts.
    I wanted to side with her, align against Ed. After all, we were both victims. But I knew better. I’d seen too many divorces where the parents argued through their children, sucking them into the middle, dividing their loyalties and forcing them to make choices a child should never have to make.
    â€œHe didn’t intend to hurt you.”
    â€œAre you actually defending him?” She stopped walking.
    â€œGod, no. But, well, I don’t know. This is between us. Something went wrong, and I guess this is how it has