The Four Seasons by Mary Alice Monroe Read Free Book Online Page B

grab hold of Jilly’s arm. “Can you walk?”
    â€œI’m a model, chérie . I’ve strolled down runways in a lot worse condition than this.”
    â€œSpare me the details. Okay then, one foot after another.”
    Like a trooper, Jilly straightened her shoulders, fixed her direction. Then, releasing her sister’s hand, she paced through the snow with remarkable grace.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me your sister was so cool,” Hannah said, coming to her side.
    Birdie saw the admiration in Hannah’s eyes and felt a sting of jealousy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen anything but scorn in her daughter’s eyes.
    A squeal caught her attention. She looked up in time to see Jilly wobble on some ice in the ridiculous spiked heels, then fall flat back into a snowdrift. Birdie hated herself for it, but a part of her was glad to see Jilly knocked off the pedestal a notch. She stifled her smile and hurried to help Jilly to her feet with Rose catching the slack. Jilly seemed to have used the last of her steam to make the distance to the porch; she was like a rag doll now.
    In the light of the front porch, Birdie studied her sister with a physician’s eye. It had been ten years since she’d last seen her. Jilly still possessed a sultry sexiness that even women turned their heads to admire. Her hair was the color of flame and as thick and wild as ever. She wore much less makeup now so her face appeared more pleasing and natural. But Birdie didn’t like its pallor and gauntness, nor the puffy eyelids and the blueness of her lips. And Jilly was thinner. The bones of her face and even her hands appeared sharp under blue-veined skin. Intuition bred from years of training and experience recognized excessive fatigue and possible illness.
    â€œHelp me get her up, Rose,” she murmured.
    Rose and Hannah both responded to the serious tone inBirdie’s request. The sisters each shouldered part of Jilly’s weight while Hannah opened the front door.
    â€œI’m okay….” Jilly muttered.
    â€œSure you are. Now, take another step. Up, up, up,” and so on as they made their way up the front steps.
    â€œWelcome home, Jilly,” Rose murmured as they ushered her into the warmth of their old family house.
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    Hours later, the dishes were washed and put away, the lights turned off and everyone settled into their respective rooms. The whole house seemed to sigh in peace. Rose sat before her computer, wide-awake. Coffee had been served when they all came in from the cold. Though she didn’t usually drink caffeine at night, that wasn’t what stirred her blood. There had been too much emotion and tomorrow promised more.
    These dark hours were her favorite, when no one needed her or called her name. They were hers alone. Merry had always fallen asleep quickly and early and slept untroubled through the night. Occasionally illness would rouse her, but usually her breath purred and she dreamed of happy things. Rose knew this because she’d sit by her bed and watch her, envious of the gentle smile that curved Merry’s lips.
    Her bedroom had once been their parents’ room. Rose had offered this largest bedroom to Merry after their mother died but Merry had rejected it, preferring the familiarity of her own lavender-and-lace-filled room. So Rose had moved in, using her old room as an office for her part-time job as a word processor. There were twelve rooms in the house, but her office was hers alone, filled with things that she had chosen for herself rather than inherited. Her desk was designed for her new computer. The bookshelves were installed to house her personal library. Everything here was here only becauseshe wished it to be. She could come into this room, close the door and be free to explore her own interests, either through books or, more recently, the Internet.
    She turned on the computer and, as she waited for it to boot, thought