Son of the Enemy by Ana Barrons Read Free Book Online Page B

it’s a coincidence that he gets sent to your office as much as he does.”
    She crossed her arms on the desk and leaned forward. “I got the feeling from watching your Frisbee game on Friday that Ty enjoys your company. Christian too.”
    “You were watching?”
    She fiddled with her ring. “Well, I was supposed to be working, but it was such a pretty day that I had a hard time concentrating, and I kept finding myself at the window, you know.”
    Ah. She had been watching him . Otherwise she wouldn’t be so flustered. He couldn’t contain a grin. “Yeah, Christian was guarding me. Frisbee’s a great way to connect with the kids because it’s not as competitive as soccer or basketball.”
    She smiled. “Arthur was terrible at sports, but he was out there every day anyway and the kids loved it. They looked out for him a little bit, you know? Like not plowing into him even when they got the chance. Ty was especially protective of him.” Her smile weakened and her eyes filled with compassion. “He’s a very sweet, loving kid. It’s not right that he gets so little in return.”
    “You care a lot about him, don’t you?”
    “I feel for him.” She looked away. “My father and I were never close, and I needed him so badly. I know what it’s like.” Her eyes appeared focused on some distant point in the past.
    “Why weren’t you close? Or don’t you know?”
    Her harsh laugh was filled with pain. “Sure I know. He couldn’t bear to look at me.” Sensing she was about to say more, John waited. To his surprise, she reached behind her and plucked a rose petal, which she proceeded to rub between her thumb and two fingers. She held it to her nose and sniffed it delicately.
    “When I got the first bouquet,” she said, “I actually thought they were from him. The note wasn’t signed, and I read it over and over, fantasizing that after all these years he realized he missed me and sent the flowers as a way to reach out to me.” When she turned to him again, John could see the emptiness in her eyes as clearly as he could see the thick dark lashes blinking back tears.
    “What did the note say?”
    She pulled a small card out of a clay jar filled with pens and pencils. “Lovely girl, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you all these years. Soon we will be together again .” She laughed hoarsely and cleared her throat.
    “How do you know it wasn’t from him?”
    She shrugged. “He would never write that. ‘Lovely girl.’ Right. If he had missed me so much, why didn’t he ever return my phone calls or send me birthday cards or—God, I’m doing it again. Whenever I’m around you I start talking about my parents, of all people.”
    “Talk to me, Hannah,” he said, feeling like a hypocrite. “I want to help.”
    “You can’t make my father love me. And you can’t give me my mother back.” She gazed at him, unsmiling. “She cheated on my father and her lover murdered her. How’s that for justice?”
    Her words socked him in the gut. He wanted to shout that her mother’s lover could never have murdered her. The man who had been the center of John’s universe for twelve years was kind and funny and had wrestled and played baseball with him and read him stories. He was no murderer. Deep in his heart he had always known that.
    “You consider that justice?” he asked, incredulous.
    “My father apparently did.”
    “He told you that? How old were you?”
    “Six. He didn’t have to come out and tell me. It was clear in everything he said and did while I was growing up that he believed my mother deserved what she got.” She walked to the window and stared out. As she stood there, one arm braced against the window frame, John got the impression she was holding herself up. “From the day I was born people said that I looked just like her, including my father. I’m sure if he saw me now…”
    John came up behind her. “No one deserves to be murdered, Hannah.” He could hear the anger in his