Lie, Lie Again - Stacy Wise Page 0,29

laughed like old friends. Sylvia was the one who had taken Nadine to all her doctors’ appointments. Jonathan had been strangely absent until the end. Then he’d wanted to put her in a home. He’d called it “one of the best assisted-living facilities,” but Sylvia knew it would be a prison for Nadine.

“How about I check in on you, just like I do now, and if the time comes when you need more help, we find a devilishly handsome young man to be your nurse?”

Nadine touched the back of her hand to her forehead and gave Sylvia a dramatically exaggerated sigh. “Be still my beating heart. I do believe that’s the best idea I’ve heard all week.”

“It’s settled.” With wide grins, they shook on it.

And then the universe decided Sylvia had been rewarded with Nadine long enough. Though they had been concerned about Nadine’s heart, it was a ruptured brain aneurysm that had taken her life.

She should’ve known happiness like Nadine was fleeting. Good things had a shelf life. That had been shoveled and dumped into her heart with painstaking regularity. Was her time with Hugh up too?

She stood abruptly. The blanket fell to the floor, and she dropped it back onto the sofa before marching to the fridge and selecting a half-full bottle of wine. Yanking the cork out with her teeth, she spit it into the kitchen sink. For a moment, she considered drinking straight from the bottle, but she wasn’t her mother’s daughter. She set it on the counter and took a glass from the cupboard. Pouring with her left hand was a bit of a challenge. On the upside, her left arm would get a workout like it hadn’t seen in ages. The pour was a heavy one, but that was for the best as well. Where are you, Hugh? she wondered as the wine slid down her throat. Even if his plane had taken a detour halfway across the country, he would’ve been home by now. Something wasn’t right.

She was treading a very fine line between worry and anger. A small voice in her head begged her to tiptoe away from the anger—to leave it quietly before she woke a sleeping monster.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Saturday, March 11

Dear Room Fourteen Families,

I hope you’re all enjoying this rainy weekend! I wanted to take a moment to address the concerns some of you have about the leprechaun traps. As I stated in the letter I sent home, this project aligns with our unit on fairy tales and folklore. Nonetheless, I understand this assignment upsets some of you. I respect your feelings on the matter and want to create a situation that is acceptable to all of you. Therefore, I’m making it optional. If your child would like to participate, great! If not, that’s great too.

I received some emails that weren’t part of the chain, in which parents expressed concern that some of the nonbelieving children might tell the “believers,” for lack of a better term, that the leprechaun isn’t real. To sum things up, they fear this will lead to discussions they aren’t prepared to have about other mythical figures. They want to protect their children’s beliefs for a few more precious years.

For those of you who would prefer to have your child skip the assignment, I’m asking you to please discuss the importance of not sharing the “cold hard facts,” as one parent put it, with the students who are participating.

With best wishes,

Miss McFarlan

Riki hit “Send” and closed her laptop. She’d had enough of the leprechaun discussion. What she needed was a dose of reality, of home. She picked up her phone and dialed her parents’ number.

“Hi, hon! You’re up bright and early for a Saturday.”

“Hi, Mom! You know me. Once I’m up, I’m up.”

“I wish your sister would wake up earlier. I have to wait until four our time to reach her. Speaking of which, have you checked in with her lately? She said she hadn’t heard from you.”

Great. Even from Australia, Rowan was tattling on her. “I texted her a few days ago, but she never got back to me. It takes two to communicate.” She tried to keep the edge from her voice, but she couldn’t stand that Rowan always put a spin on things. If they hadn’t talked, it was Riki’s fault. If Riki was worried about something, she was just being dramatic. A problem had occurred? Must be Riki behind it. Everything was her fault.

“Well, she made it sound like you hadn’t tried. Maybe