Thorns of Truth by Eileen Goudge Read Free Book Online

platitudes and small endearments. Acting as if she were …
    My mother.
    Well, that’s what she was, Rose reminded herself.
    Not in any way that counts. Not the way she is to Rachel.
    Rose tasted something bitter in the back of her throat—the betrayal she’d had to swallow, again and again. Pretending to be no more than Sylvie’s good friend when all along …
    All these years, I’ve kept quiet, and never asked why. Why Rachel’s happiness is more important than mine. In some deep way, she knew it was more complicated than just Rachel—it had to do with Iris as well, the love and concern Sylvie felt for her granddaughter. Concern that apparently outweighed any she might have for Drew, her grandson by blood.
    Rose took a breath, and willed herself to grow calm. She couldn’t afford such thoughts right now. And Sylvie was certainly right about one thing. What would be the use of trying to reason with Drew now, in the middle of this latest crisis with Iris?
    She sank back, shivering, rubbing her bare shoulders in an effort to warm them. Since Max had died, it seemed she could never get warm enough, as if the fiery core that had fueled her had been reduced to little more than ash. Yes, she would wait, speak to Drew later on, when they had a moment alone. Whatever the trouble between himself and Iris, it would still be there tomorrow morning. Hadn’t she learned, the hard way, that while good times had a habit of going sour overnight, the bad seemed to have an almost limitless shelf life?
    The thought was snatched from her head by a sudden commotion across the room. A sound that sent icy fingers skittering up her spine: Drew yelling for help.
    Sylvie Rosenthal heard it, too. Drew’s frantic shouts seemed to be coming from the terrace outside. But she couldn’t see beyond the knots of alarmed guests now clustered about the open French doors. What on earth—?
    Then, all at once, Sylvie was watching Rose bolt past, Brian and Rachel close behind her. She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her; she fell weakly back into her chair, her heart pounding. It was as if a huge weight were pressing down on her, making her dizzy and short of breath.
    Don’t you dare faint, she commanded herself.
    Sylvie tried to remember Dr. Choudry’s instructions. Take slow, even breaths.… Don’t panic. In her velvet evening bag was a vial with her prescription, just in case. But, really, she was fine. It was her granddaughter Sylvie was worried about.
    Drew’s shouts could mean only thing: Iris was in some kind of trouble.
    Sylvie, now nearly frantic with worry, searched the crowd for the one face sure to bring her comfort, the one shoulder on which she allowed herself to lean. Nikos … where are you?
    Then she spotted him—making his way toward her. Good, dependable Nikos, who seemed not to have aged a day in all these years. While this body of hers had wound down like a finicky old clock, Nikos’ only seemed to grow more rugged. His once-black hair was now white, but he had never been more fit, or handsome—a CEO who spent more time out on his construction sites than in his office, with the calluses to show for it.
    Now he was bending over her with his hands on her shoulders, and his breath warm against her face. At once her heartbeat grew more steady. Her breathing slowed. She started to get up, but Nikos gently pushed her down.
    “What’s going on? Is it Iris? Is she hurt?” She clutched at him, her chilled fingers soaking in his blessed warmth.
    He hesitated, and she could see the fear in his eyes—for her as well as for Iris. As if her own health mattered at a time like this!
    “Not hurt, no.” In his deep rumble of a voice she could hear Nikos’ own tightly reined panic. She saw that he was trembling slightly, and that made her even more alarmed.
    “ What, then?”
    His expression turned grim. “It appears she has climbed onto the terrace wall and—Sylvie, are you all right? You are so pale!”
    She