Blood Brothers Read Online Free PDF Page A

and
intelligent after a life of images, and his dishwater blonde hair
was cut expertly. His full beard was slightly darker than his hair
and just as carefully trimmed. Not a knock-out, but very
presentable.
    He emerged from the bedroom feeling a little
better. On his way to the kitchen he met the enticing aroma of
freshly brewed coffee, an addiction both he and Stephanie shared.
Chatter was coming from the direction of the kitchen and when he
entered through a side entrance, he saw Christal sitting at the
table in the breakfast alcove. Mike’s foul mood sluiced away when
he saw her, as it always did.
    The small girl beamed when she saw him.
    “Good morning, Daddy. Somebody was being a
sleepyhead, weren’t they?”
    He laughed. Suddenly the lack of sleep and
the nightmares weren’t so overwhelming. “Yeah Chris, I guess I
was.”
    Christal was eating Fruit Loops and drinking
orange juice. By this time of the morning, Mrs. Wylder, the
housekeeper, usually had a full course breakfast set.
    “Where’s Mrs. Wylder, she running late?” he
asked Stephanie.
    “She called a bit ago. She’s got an
appointment with Dr. Marshall. She’ll be in after ten. You want me
to pop something in the microwave for you?”
    Pouring a cup of coffee without looking at
his wife, he said no. Then moving to the table, he leaned over and
kissed both of Christal’s cheeks.
    “Daddy!” she shrieked in mock irritation.
    “You looked beautiful last night, sweetheart.
I wish I knew where you got all that musical talent from. Lord
knows, it’s not from me.”
    Stephanie moved over to him, tugging at his
shirtsleeve. “I need to talk to you,” she mouthed.
    Here we go again.
    “Did you really like it, Daddy?”
    “Of course I did. Mozart has nothing on you.”
Her smile was simply gigantic. “I’ll see you later, okay.”
    “Okay, Daddy. You have a good day, okay?”
    “I will, darling. I will.”
    Sipping from his cup, he stepped out of the
kitchen. Stephanie was down the hall, standing in front of the
large window, the early morning sun making her glow.
    “We need to talk.”
    “So you said. Talk about what?”
    “Damn it, Michael. Why do you always have to
be so smug?”
    “Smug? I just don’t have to time for this
Stephanie. You could’ve woken me, y’know. I’m already running late.
You know this is a big weekend for me.”
    “Wake you? We don’t even sleep in the same
bedroom ninety-five percent of the time, Mike. Why in the hell
would I wake you?”
    “Okay, okay,” Michael said, putting his hands
up. “You don’t have to get all crazy on me.”
    Stephanie looked as if she were about to say
something, but then he saw her eyes cloud over just a tad.
Apparently the morning dose was kicking in.
    “I’ve got to go,” Michael said, sidestepping
her. She was a sad sight. Her eyes were reddened, her hair a rat’s
nest, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week. Still there
was some trace of her former self left to be seen. But not much.
Not very much at all.
    “Michael,” she said. Something in her voice
made him stop, something almost pleading.
    “Yeah,” he said, again sipping from his
cup.
    Stephanie walked up to him, slowly. She did
not list, she did not stumble. He could smell her. The scent was
not at all unpleasant, and not completely unknown. Not tangerines,
but a clean, soapy smell. In short, she smelled like home. Despite
himself, he felt a lingering affection. He could almost see the
girl he had married inside the woman she had become.
    “Yeah,” he said again. This time there was
some softness in his voice. He just couldn’t help it. His grip
tightened on the mug’s handle.
    “There was a time when you used to act like
you weren’t fucking everything with two legs and a heartbeat.” She
went wild then. He shuffled back. Instinctively his free hand went
high, protecting his face from her hands and fingernails. She kept
coming.
    “Damn it, Stephanie. What are you doing?”
    “You son of a