Unthinkable by Nancy Werlin Read Free Book Online Page B

plans, even in Faerie, even when
there was no apparent purpose in planning. That was who
she was. She planned for me to have those books when she
was gone. She gave me the education she wanted for herself,
as best she could.”
Lucy and Soledad were watching her with soft eyes.
“She was the first daughter I really loved,” said Fenella.
“Since, well. Since . . .” She shrugged. Bronagh, she thought.
She was abruptly aware that, from the floor, Ryland was
staring at her too.
Nobody said anything.
Fenella wanted to stop talking, and she knew she should,
but her mouth kept moving. “Forgive me for going on and
on. I’ve never talked about Minnie to anyone.”
“Not even to Minnie’s daughter?” Lucy’s voice was high
and thin. “What was Minnie’s daughter’s name again?”
“Jennie,” said Fenella.
“You didn’t talk to Jennie about her mother? Didn’t tell
her how amazing she was?”
“No. Not really.”
There was silence.
“There was no point,” Fenella said in a rush. “It’s hard
to explain, but Jennie didn’t know her mother. She was too
worried about her own daughter to think of her. That was
the way it usually was, for all of us. Surviving Padraig, and
trying to help your own daughter. Hope was always centered on the future. But Minnie was different. She had room
for other things too. For other people. She had room for—
for me. I don’t know why, but she did.”
Soledad reached out and put her arm around Lucy’s
waist. Lucy leaned into her mother.
Lucy said passionately, “I wish I had known Minnie too.
I wish she were here. I wish she had the second chance you
have. And Jennie, and—and all of them. We’d make room
for all of them here, if we could.”
Soledad gave a choked laugh. “Think of all the air mattresses we’d need. I think we could manage, though.”
“We would manage.”
Fenella said harshly, “There’s no need for fantasy. Minnie’s dead. Bronagh’s dead. Everyone is dead.”
“Not me,” said Lucy quietly. “Not Miranda. Not Dawn.
Not you.” She paused. “Who’s Bronagh?”
“Just another one,” said Fenella. “It doesn’t matter.”
Soledad said, “What matters is that you’re alive. And as
soon as Zach and Leo get back, we’ll have dinner and—”
Her face changed. “Bad cat! Get away from there!”
Ryland was inside the knitting basket, clutching a ball of
pink yarn. In four steps, Fenella crossed the room. “Let go,
Ryland!”
It’s soft! said the cat insanely. It rolls! It unwinds!
“You’re a guest in this house!”
She had to wrestle him for the ball of yarn. Fenella put
the yarn back into the basket and picked up the cat. What
was wrong with him? He needed to act like an ordinary cat,
not a bizarre one.
Pretty, pretty yarn, Ryland said longingly.
Fenella looked across the room at Lucy and Soledad.
Their faces told her that they were still moved by what she
had said about Minnie. But she knew it had been a mistake.
She mustn’t get too close to them. There was no point.
Also, they were wrong. She was not alive.
“Is there a cover for your knitting basket?” she asked
Soledad.

Chapter 7
    Leo was late getting home for dinner. This wouldn’t have
mattered if, upon coming in, he had remembered that
Pierre was an outside dog now. But he didn’t, and he let the
dog in with him.
    An instant later Pierre and Ryland were locked in combat, a rolling, screaming mass of legs and heads and fur.
Fenella stood frozen. The last she’d known, Ryland had been
under the table, listening to the conversation while lying on
top of her feet.
    Lucy yelled Pierre’s name. Soledad snatched the crawling
child up off the floor. Zach and Lucy and Leo threw themselves into the fray, and then so did Fenella.
    Then a strange, deep, male voice broke into the mayhem.
“Pierre,” the voice said sternly. “Down.”
The dog lifted his head. In that second, Fenella was able
    to snatch Ryland away. He came into her arms like a