Mud Creek Read Online Free PDF Page A

to restrain herself.
    “I don’t feel right, Helen,” Violet wailed. “I feel all jumbled inside, as if I’m broken to pieces.”
    “I’d fix it if I could.”
    “I’m so unhappy.”
    “You shouldn’t focus so much on the negative. You should focus on what’s positive, on what’s good in your life.”
    “I’ve wrecked everything.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. You made a mistake out at the fair. That’s all it was. It will blow over.”
    “I hate this town and these snobbish people.”
    “Don’t say that.”
    “Why shouldn’t I? It’s true.”
    “You’re upset. You don’t mean it.”
    “I wish I could die!” Violet dramatically hurled, and she laid her head on the table, her face buried in her arms, as she wept and wept.
    At a loss, Helen sat with her, stroking her back, murmuring words of solace and encouragement. Occasionally, she went to the drawer in the cupboard to fetch a new towel. She’d tie it around Violet’s hand, and gradually, the bleeding stopped.
    Evening waned and night fell, and still, Violet mourned. Her melancholy seemed like a deep ocean, that she was plunging down and would never reach the bottom.
    Helen eased away to light a lamp. She stared out into the rear yard, watching the shadows darken. She was tired and heartsick and afraid.
    Violet was so dejected, and Helen hadn’t yet mentioned their father’s bankruptcy, the foreclosure, the fact that they had no money. With Violet already in such a reduced condition, how would she react when she learned the actual state of their affairs?
    Helen had to do something. They couldn’t continue on as they had been, and Violet was so desperate to escape Maywood. Why stay? What was keeping them?
    They had nothing left. No family. No home. No friends brave enough to stick by them after a hint of scandal.
    Only Albert had stepped forward. Only Albert had offered the aid that no one else would extend. How could Helen fail to grab hold?
    It wouldn’t be the worst conclusion in the world, marrying Albert. She knew him well; she was aware of his preferences and habits. There would be no passion or joy with him as her husband, but there would be no surprises, either. No quarrels or bickering. No drinking or loose women or hard fists thrown in anger.
    A sense of calm seeped through her, and she walked to the front parlor to retrieve Albert’s letter. When she returned to the kitchen, Violet was sitting up in her chair.
    She was bedraggled, her eyes red, her cheeks mottled. She looked forlorn and smaller, as if some of her vibrancy had leaked away.
    “I’m so sad, Helen,” Violet said.
    “I know you are, but everything will be all right.”
    “How can it be? I behave so badly. Why do you put up with me?”
    “You’re my sister, Violet. I’ll always fight for you.” She patted Violet’s hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped in a bloody towel.
    “You’re too nice to me,” Violet insisted. “If you had the slightest inkling of what I’m really like—“
    “Hush now. I won’t hear you denigrating yourself. You’re weary and overwrought. Let’s just forget about it for tonight.”
    Violet noticed Albert’s letter and asked, “What’s that?”
    “I think we should leave here,” Helen told her.
    “Leave…Maywood?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’d like that.”
    “So would I, and this is what we’re going to do.”

CHAPTER THREE
    “Is this the town where we’ll live?”
    “No. We’ll be out in the country, remember?”
    Albert smiled at Helen, feeling awkward and bumbling, when he wanted to appear mature and composed. He’d always found her to be very sophisticated, and in his lengthy ruminations, she’d sometimes taken on near mythic proportions.
    It had been three years since he’d seen her, and she was as pretty as he recollected. Her hair was still a striking blond color, but she’d lost some weight which, in light of her troubles, was understandable. He’d lost weight, too.
    She was a short woman, and he liked that she