Don't Tell A Soul Read Online Free PDF Page B

blinking and the corners of her mouth twitching with uncertainty. It isn’t a look of someone redeemed.
    She looks broken.
    She’ll fit right in here.

CHAPTER 3
    TAYLOR
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    â€œS pence, honey. Put the belt away.”
    Spencer steps out of his walk-in closet and looks at me like I’m crazy, but I do not care. He is not about to hit my son with that belt.
    â€œThe Bible says, ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’”
    He is not changing my mind by quoting a Scripture. I know all about not sparing the rod. My mother never spared the rod on me, and it just made me angry. She was beating my tail until I was seventeen years old, when I finally had enough and took the belt away from her. I don’t want my son angry.
    â€œYou’re not hitting him with that, Spencer. You’ll have to find another way to discipline him. He is eleven years old. You should be able to get through to him without putting your hands on him.”
    â€œHe should not have hit that boy.”
    â€œMaybe if you’d been at the game—”
    â€œYou are not going to make this about me working on Saturday. Taylor, you know I have to work weekends during month-end close!”
    â€œI’m just saying.”
    Spencer throws the belt onto the bed and sighs. “Why do we keep arguing about this, Taylor?”
    â€œBecause you are not listening.”
    â€œEvery time I get ready to spank him, you act like he’s your son. But when it’s time to spend some money, he’s our son.”
    I look away from Spencer’s demanding glare and shake my head. He knows this is not true. He is Joshua’s father, even though he’s not his biological dad. We don’t use the terms stepfather or stepson in this house. And I know that he loves Joshua.
    But when it comes to laying hands on him, I just cannot get with it. I’ve heard too many stories about boyfriends and husbands killing a woman’s kids, by accident or worse . . . on purpose. That’s not about to happen in this house.
    Every time we have this conversation, it makes me feel like I have to choose between my son and my man. I don’t want to do that.
    â€œJoshua is out of control, Taylor. He punched a boy in the face on the soccer field. Are you getting that? He knocked the boy’s front teeth out, for heaven’s sake. Is he going to pay for that boy’s dental work?”
    â€œAnd you think the way to show him not to hit someone is to beat him with a leather belt? That doesn’t make any sense, Spencer. You’re just angry because it’s going to cost money.”
    â€œMy father whipped me when I was a child, Taylor. He did it out of love, not anger, and I am the same way. I love Joshua. But if we don’t teach him right from wrong, the world is going to teach him.”
    â€œI want you to teach him right from wrong. Without hitting him.”
    I fold my arms across my chest and stretch my legs out on the bed in front of me. In my opinion, the conversation is over. It’s a done deal.
    â€œYou know what? You handle your son. When he winds up dead or in jail, I won’t say I told you so.”
    I jump up from the bed and stand to face my husband. “Seriously? You’re calling down curses on my baby!”
    â€œNo, you are. Because you’re not letting me be a father to him. You’re spoiling him.”
    â€œHe is not spoiled.”
    I know he did not just say that. He is really trying to take me there. If my son wasn’t two doors down, I’d cuss Spencer out, and I stopped cussing a long time ago.
    Joshua spent the first five years of his life with nobody but me. He struggled as I struggled. He never had birthday parties and big Christmases and Easter baskets overflowing with goodies. I was too busy trying to keep a roof over his head and clothes on his back. My mother helped me try to make his life normal, but a grandmother is not a daddy. Not even