Still Waters by Misha Crews Read Free Book Online

could look his boy in the eye.
    “I’m very pleased to meet you, too, Christopher. That’s a mighty fine rig you’ve got on there.”
    “You mean my six-shooter?” Christopher fumbled the shiny tin revolver out of its holster and held it out with both hands for Adam to inspect. “It’s my birthday present from Grandma!” He glanced at the brightly-wrapped package that Adam still carried under his arm. “Did you know it’s my birthday, Uncle Adam?”
    Adam couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you know, I had a feeling that today might be a special day. And that’s why I brought this along with me.”
    He held the package out and Christopher took it gingerly with both hands. The box was large and ungainly, but the boy managed to grip it, eyes shining. Adam held on to it, just in case.
    Christopher swiveled his head around and looked up at his mother. “Can I open it now, Mommy?”
    She smiled at him lovingly, reaching out to stroke his hair. “No, sweetheart, go put it with the others. We’ll open presents in a little while, and then we’ll have cake.”
    Crestfallen at being denied, Christopher nevertheless put on a brave face and smiled. “Thank you, Uncle Adam. I’m sure I’ll like it.”
    “I hope you do, Christopher.”
    Kitty put a hand lightly on Christopher’s shoulder. “Come on, dear. Let’s get back to your guests. I think it’s time for the piñata. What do you think?”
    Christopher trotted happily around the back of the house, with Fritz close on his heels. Rose and Stella went with him, Rose carrying his present in her arms.
    Kitty reached out and squeezed Adam’s arm. “It’s good to have you home,” she said. Then she smiled and followed after her grandson.
    Her grandson, who was not her grandson.
    Adam turned to Jenna, his face tight with anger. She held up a hand in warning. “Come inside,” she said. Then she turned and walked up the path without waiting to see if he followed.
    The inside of the house had changed a great deal since Adam had last stepped foot inside these walls. Five years earlier, the place had been coldly sleek and modern. The walls had been stark white; the rug on the floor had been flat black, adding little softness to the room. The only warmth in the room had come from the brown sofa. And from Jenna.
    Now the walls were painted a soft yellow. The same sofa still sat against the side wall, but its hard form had been beaten into a comfortable-looking pulpy mass. The old black mat was gone, replaced with a blue oval rag rug. Toys lurked in every corner, coloring books covered the coffee table. This, Adam thought, was a good place. It was a child’s place. It was a home.
    He followed Jenna into the kitchen, which had also been repainted the same yellow. Blue-checked curtains covered the small window in the corner by the table. The back door was open, letting in the raucous sounds of laughing children as the piñata was raised and lowered by Christopher’s grandfather.
    Who, of course, was not Christopher’s grandfather.
    Adam felt physically ill. He watched as Jenna pulled a packet of Kool-Aid and a canister of sugar out of the cupboard and ran water to fill a plastic pitcher. How could she stand there so calmly, going through the motions of a good mother? He wanted to shout at her, to shake her, to force her to explain herself.
    “What have — “ He heard his voice rising, and he stopped. This was not a conversation for the folks in the backyard to hear. He clenched his jaw and spoke again, keeping his voice low. “What have you done?”
    She didn’t bother to turn around. “Me? I wasn’t exactly alone when it happened!” She threw a cool glance over her shoulder. “Or don’t you remember?”
    An unwelcome flash of memory brought the taste of her skin to his tongue, and the cool scent of her hair to his nostrils. He eyed the slender curve of her neck, where it rose gracefully from her blouse and met the edge of her hairline in a neat V-shape. Then he