The Ugly Truth by Cheryel Hutton Read Free Book Online Page A

fiddler. They all sang at one time or another, even the whistler. The music the band played was fun and relaxing. Healing, Mrs. Clark said. I could believe it. A deep, painful rip in my soul, one that I didn’t even know was there, began to close in response to the sweet sounds coming from the temporary stage.
    A glance toward Madison told me my friend wasn’t so relaxed. Her shoulders were too high and close to her ears, and her posture was tense. Most telling were the covert glances Maddie pretended she wasn’t shooting over her shoulder.
    Even before I looked, I knew Jake was there.
    He sat at the very edge of the crowd, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. As I watched, his gaze slowly slid to meet mine. He smiled, and I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest and race over to him. But then he turned back to watching the performers.
    An almost overwhelming urge to go back and sit with him danced inside me. He was alone, and the people around me all had strong ties to each other. They probably wouldn’t even notice my absence.
    Then I looked toward Madison, and the expression of pain pulling at my friend’s face tore away any thoughts of leaving her. It wouldn’t be right. I still had no idea why Maddie and Jake seemed to care about and hate each other simultaneously, but I wasn’t about to be disloyal to a friend just because I had the hots for a guy. How low would that be?
    As low as a mother choosing a man over her children?
    Shaking my head, I fought to clear away memories of my mother. I wasn’t her. I was nothing like her.
    I squeezed Madison’s arm, and she smiled weakly toward me. I sighed, leaned back, and tried to focus on the show. It was nice here, sitting in a lawn chair on the grass and listening to music while the evening breeze rustled the leaves and relieved the damp heat of the day. Wistful sadness deep inside my heart confused me, until I realized to my surprise I was homesick. It had been a very long time since I’d even thought about Alabama, much less missed the place. Yeah, I thought about my little brother a lot, mostly with self-reproach. But think about the place where I grew up? Never.
    I was now, though. Surrounded by the trees, the fresh air, music in the park. I found myself smiling at the memories—and wondering if I was losing my mind.
    Before I could sink too deeply into the mire of mental distress, a deep, jarring sound pulled me back into the present. I glanced toward the band, but they were between numbers. Actually, the band members frowned and glanced around as if they too were confused about the source of the low-pitched rumble.
    The crowd was muttering. I scanned the area, but saw nothing that could explain the odd noise. I’d lived in D.C. long enough that the thought of terrorists shot into my brain without hesitation. One glance at Maddie told me she was thinking the same thing. She opened her mouth, and I knew she was about to suggest we get the hell away from the current ground zero.
    “UFO!”
    I jerked around to look toward the kid who’d yelled. Of course my mind went to the obvious: missiles, bombs on airplanes, bio weapons dropped from the sky.
    Then I looked up.
    It was mostly a circular, and very bright, orange light, but behind the glow I could see the outline of what looked like a flattened beach ball. It was hard to see specifics, though; I kept having to look away. It was rather like trying to look at the sun, look a little too long and your eyes felt like they’d explode.
    My camera was in my hand without conscious thought. I clicked away for a moment, then exchanged the digital for my trusty thirty-five millimeter single lens reflex. Not only might the film catch something the pixels didn’t, there would be a negative for proof. I even had enough time to fit a filter over the lens before the light/object zipped away toward the distant mountains. As I watched, whatever had visited the festival disappeared up and over the top of