The Blackstone Chronicles - By John Saul Page 0,74

Lord Himself. Martha Ward felt transfigured.

The Lord would show her the way.

Andrea would be saved.

As soon as she was wide enough awake to remember where she was and why she was there, Andrea Ward felt her good intentions of the previous day evaporate. She reached over to the nightstand, felt for her cigarettes, and lit one with the dragon’s head lighter her cousin had given her yesterday afternoon. Sucking the first puff of smoke deep into her lungs, she choked, then fell victim to a fit of coughing. When the coughing finally subsided, she dropped back onto the single thin pillow that had been allotted to the bed—her mother had never believed that more than one could possibly be necessary—and wondered why she’d bothered to wake up at all.

Nothing had changed overnight. She was still pregnant, still jobless, and Gary had still run out on her. But now she was back home in Blackstone, and her mother was condemning her for her sins, and Rebecca—

Rebecca! Christ! Though it was true that her cousin had tried to be nice to her, so what? Since her accident, Rebecca was even more useless than she’d been before, if that was possible. Sweet, maybe, but useless. Which meant Rebecca wasn’t going to be any good to her at all.

Stop it! Andrea commanded herself. None of this is Rebecca’s fault. You got yourself into this mess, so now it’s up to you to get yourself out of it!

Stubbing the cigarette out in the soap dish she’d commandeered from the bathroom to serve as an ashtray, Andrea slid off the bed, only to feel a wave of nausea break over her as she stood. Running to the bathroom, she made it just in time to throw up into the toilet. Groping, she found the handle on the side of the tank and flushed the bowl, but as she started to get to her feet, her stomach recoiled again, a foul mixture of acid and bile rising in her throat, and she sank again to her knees. Whimpering, she stayed crouched on the floor waiting for the nausea to pass, and after retching two more times, decided to risk standing up once again. She was turning on the water to rinse the residue of vomit from her mouth when she heard a tapping at the door, immediately followed by Rebecca’s voice.

“Are you all right, Andrea? Can I help?”

“No one can help,” Andrea groaned. “Just go away, okay?”

There was a silence, followed by the sound of her cousin’s footsteps retreating back toward the staircase. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair, darkening badly at the roots, lay against her scalp in a limp, oily tangle. To her own eye, she looked at least ten years older than she was. She looked worn. She looked the way she felt. Hopeless.

How on earth would she manage to keep all the promises she’d made yesterday?

Andrea went back to her room, put on the same blouse and faded jeans she’d worn the day before, and finally went downstairs. She found Rebecca in the kitchen. Two places were set at the table. As Andrea sank down into one of the chairs, Rebecca put a glass of orange juice in front of her, and a plate containing an English muffin thickly coated with butter and bright orange marmalade.

Just the sight of it made Andrea’s stomach churn again. “All I want is a cup of coffee,” she pleaded.

The welcoming smile on Rebecca’s face faded into a look of uncertainty. “Is that good for the baby? I think I read—”

Andrea glared at her cousin. “I have news for you,” she said. “I don’t give a good goddamn what you read.” As Rebecca’s eyes glistened with tears, Andrea felt a twinge of guilt. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But it hasn’t been a great morning so far. I didn’t sleep more than an hour, and then I started puking my brains out. Right now my life isn’t going real well, you know? Anyway, I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s all right.” Rebecca picked up the plate and glass and moved them to the counter, then poured her cousin a cup of coffee.

“Where’s Mother?” Andrea asked. “She can’t be asleep—she always thought being in bed after six was some kind of sin.”

“Sometimes she goes to church,” Rebecca explained. “Especially when she’s worried about something.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “Well, I think we can both guess what she’s praying about this morning, huh? What’ll