The Lullaby Sky by Carolyn Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

gone, not just stored, and I’m glad that I can donate it to the shelter.”
    “Hey.” Travis rapped on the doorjamb. “Sophie said it was all right for me to come in through the back door.”
    Hannah reminded herself to breathe. Long, deep breaths. That would still her racing heart. No one had sneaked up on her in a long time. She’d had to be vigilant to live with Marty, especially the last two years.
    “Sure it is, but what in the devil would a battered-women’s shelter want with men’s T-shirts? They are ironed and ready for use, folded even neater than they were the day they were bought.” Darcy held one up. “And probably the best that money can buy.”
    “Gina, the lady who runs the Patchwork House, says that the abused women don’t always arrive alone. Same way I did. Sometimes they bring teenage boys with them, and ninety percent of the time, they only have the clothes on their backs.”
    “Then you are giving all this to the women’s shelter?” Travis asked. “Furniture, too? Hannah, it’s only been a couple of days, and this is very nice furniture. Don’t do anything that you’ll regret later. You could sell this stuff and make a few dollars.”
    “Like Darcy said, if it’s in this house, it belongs to me, and believe me, there will be no regrets. And this is what I want to do with it—all of it,” Hannah said with conviction.
    “Holy smoke, Hannah, you weren’t kiddin’,” Darcy exclaimed when she opened the next drawer. “You really did iron his underwear.”
    “By choice?” Travis asked.
    “For survival,” Hannah whispered as she headed to the kitchen. She took a moment to rein in her thoughts. Pure fire would pour from Marty’s eyes and steam from his ears if he knew all his clothing was going to be stuffed into a garbage bag and sent to a battered-women’s shelter.
    He hated women’s shelters. She’d had the bruises to prove it, because when he came home the weekend after she’d tried to leave, he’d made sure she understood that was the last chance she’d ever get to try to run away with Sophie again. Next time he would take the child and she’d never see her again.
    But there had been no next time, because Hannah was terrified of losing Sophie. She peeled off two garbage bags—one for the things in the dresser drawers, another for the things in the closet. She smiled at the poetic justice of sending it all to the women’s shelter. Everything that had been Marty’s. That’s what Darcy had said. The shelter could have that damned leather recliner in the living room and the table beside it and the lamp, too. That had been Marty’s, and no one had better sit in it or move that lamp a fraction of an inch. When she dusted Hannah used a tape measure to be sure it was put back exactly where he liked it.
    “You might need to hook up that trailer that you cart around your lawn mower on when you take it down to the church to take care of the landscaping,” she said as she shook out a plastic bag, picked up a fistful of snowy-white T-shirts, and tossed them inside. When that was done, she started on the underwear and then the silk pajama pants and the matching robes. By the time she put the last pair of socks into the bag, there was barely enough room to tie it shut.
    “Now what?” Darcy asked.
    “There are two drawers of my things. Dump them on the sofa in the living room and I’ll take care of them after a while,” Hannah said, amazed at how much lighter her heart felt already. She picked up the second bag and shook it open. “Next is all the clothing he left behind and his shoes. Travis, you might want to hitch up the trailer.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “I’ll back it up to the front door and start taking things out of here soon as you’re ready.”
    “This stuff is pretty heavy. You’ll need some help,” Hannah said.
    “Aunt Birdie has a furniture dolly out in her storage shed. I used it when I moved my stuff into the house last year. Everyone in