Crossing Oceans Read Online Free PDF Page B

though she already knew the answer.
    My insides burned. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve the Prestons.” His silence knocked the wind out of me. “Daddy, no.”
    When he turned to face us, I noticed a long scratch on his right cheek.
    Alarm filled me. “What did you do?”
    Mama Peg stood, her face grayer than usual. “Jack?”
    His gaze lingered on the linoleum as he spoke. “I confronted him.”
    “David’s father?” This couldn’t be happening. “Again?”
    “I demanded he acknowledge . . .” He paused when his bloodshot eyes met mine. “He still denies it. Even now that we share a grandchild, he refuses to do the right thing.”
    Blood pounded against my temples. “Say you didn’t tell him about Bella. Tell me. Tell me!” I was screaming now. My body seemed to be acting of its own accord while my mind floated high above the scene, watching with deaf horror. “David doesn’t know. You know I haven’t told him yet. How could you!”
    My father hung his head and covered his face with both hands.
    “Jesus, help us,” Mama Peg prayed aloud as I snatched my keys and bag from the counter and tore out the back door.

Chapter Five
    I sped out of the saddle barn’s gravel driveway, down the bumpy road, and across the single-lane bridge leading to town. Scanning through radio stations, I flipped past the talk shows, past the easy listening, past the country, to rap. Angry and loud, it suited my mood.
    As I drove, I tried to reassure myself that I was still early enough to stand a good chance of beating Dr. Preston to his son. It was Saturday, and if memory served right, my father’s nemesis would not be making morning rounds as he did during the week but would have one of his residents performing this duty so he could sleep in. How many times had I heard him say in his pompous way, “After this many years of doctoring, I think I’ve earned the right to my weekend.”
    Though I seldom saw eye to eye with my father, in this case I was inclined to agree that the only thing Dr. Preston deserved was a kick in the pants. I didn’t hate him like my father did or make him the scapegoat for my mother’s death, but I did disdain his haughty nature.
    When Mom passed, my father considered retribution by seeking damages. But he had been a trial attorney and had developed such a loathing for the system that he swore when he retired, he would never willingly set foot in a courtroom again. I’d heard him say more than once that he would just as soon kill a man as sue him. I had no doubt he’d like to kill Dr. Preston, but fortunately for them both, the Bible forbade it.
    Of course God also said we should love our enemies, but reminding Dad of that only brought cold shoulders and colder stares. My father, the hypocrite. Obedient only when it suited him. Selfish with God. Selfish with me.
    When my mother died, he retreated into a world all his own, casting a shadow over our house and over my life. Did he care that he left me to suffer alone? If he did, you wouldn’t know it. If he wasn’t yelling, he was giving me the silent treatment. At my mother’s funeral, I buried not one parent, but two.
    And now this. How dare he reveal Isabella’s existence in that manner! I could just picture him standing on Dr. Preston’s porch, screaming for him to come down. The way he probably spat the words, red-faced, eyes bulging from their sockets. Did he growl Isabella’s name? I gritted my teeth at the thought. My daughter was precious, not something to be spewed out like a curse word.
    My mouth felt suddenly dry. I patted around the passenger seat, under my purse and a pile of CDs, for the bottle of water I’d left in the car. Securing it between my thighs, I kept one hand on the wheel vibrating from the roughness of the country road and, with the other, twisted the cap off and took a swig. It was warm, but at least it was wet.
    Nearing the paved main road, I began to wonder how exactly I planned to talk with David when