Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Read Online Free PDF

my shoulder, knowing any second Raymond was going to come busting through those doors. I hadn’t been here a year when I got the news he’d been killed in a hunting accident, and God as my witness, I cried tears of relief.”
    I imagine what my life would be like if Mark wasn’t a part of it, if he could somehow be permanently erased, and I sense Francine’s relief. When she smiles at me, I have to fight back the envy. “I’m glad things have worked out for you.” I let her hear the doubt in my voice because I don’t want her thinking Raymond’s death can be my salvation, too.
    We finish eating in silence, though I feel her gaze on me every so often. I know she wants me to tell her more, maybe even to ask for help. But I won’t involve anyone else in my train wreck of a life. I start to slide off the stool and realize my leg is bleeding again, and the blood is sliding down the side of my thigh. It had been too soon to disturb the bandage.
    I quickly swipe the edge of the towel over the stool once I stand. “Francine, you wouldn’t happen to have some bandages, would you? I cut myself shaving before I left, and it started bleeding again in the shower.” The lie is a weak one, but it’s all I have.
    “Sure, honey. We have to keep plenty of them around here. Lord knows how many close calls Art’s had with those butcher knives.” She chuckles and retrieves a box of various-sized bandages from the cabinet next to the back door. “Help yourself.”
    After carrying my plate to the industrial-sized, stainless steel sink, I wash my hands, careful to keep my back to Francine. With my hand pressed against my thigh to staunch the flow of blood, I return to the bathroom.
    The branded flesh isn’t healing well. After I wipe the blood away, I can see it’s angry red and puffy with blisters surrounding the initials. I doctor it the best I can, but if it doesn’t heal soon, I’ll need a real doctor. God only knows what those keys of Mark’s had been through. It isn’t any wonder my skin looks like this.
    After stuffing the towel in the very bottom of a hamper filled with aprons and napkins, I put some of the bandages in my pocket and head back to the kitchen. Francine’s at the sink, a gaudy green, white, and purple apron tied around her waist. I tell her I have to get something from my car. Really, I need air and some space. She’s the first person I opened up to, and as much as I want to trust her, life has taught me some pretty hard lessons about people. The ones you think you can trust are the ones you should trust the least.
    I step out into the frosty morning, shivering a little as I walk to my car which looks abandoned in the far back parking lot. The dent on the back passenger door is a stark reminder of Mark’s temper. He hadn’t wanted my parents to give me the car, but they hadn’t asked his permission. In a fit of rage, he’d flung a hammer at it. I’d told my parents someone had pushed their grocery cart against the door, but I don’t think my father ever believed it.
    “You need a coat.” Adam intersects with me from around the corner of the building, and my breath catches.
    Does the guy ever go anywhere else? I give him what could barely pass for a smile and keep walking. But my body isn’t interested in ignoring him. My skin begins to tingle, and wispy shocks dance down my spine. It’s a sense of awareness I should ignore. I have to ignore if I’m going to get out of this town without any trouble.
    “You want to tell me why you’re doing your damnedest to hide who you are, Emily?”
    I stop long enough to glare at him before continuing my trek. “I don’t want any trouble from you, Sheriff, but I don’t feel like I should have to tell you my whole life story, either.”
    “I don’t need the whole story. How about just part of the truth?” His long strides outdistance mine, and he’s at my car before I can get there. “Like why you didn’t tell me your real name. Is Emily Blakely