Tell Me One Thing Read Online Free PDF Page A

over the injustice of Hugh’s cruelty, would propel him into battles he could never win. And the punishments were severe. There were beatings with a belt or a fist well beyond any humane limit. There were times, and she doesn’t like to remember them, when she feared for her brother’s safety—the combination of Hugh’s drunkenness and Jamie’s righteous fury a recipe for disaster.
    It’s like someone has removed all his blood
, Ellen thinks as she opens the sliding glass door and steps back into the living room. “Do you believe in vampires?” she asks him.
    And he grins, a wide, wholesome grin, which is what she had hoped for. This grinning Jamie she recognizes.
    “As in ‘I vant to suck your blood’? Or are we speaking metaphorically here? Because metaphorically, yes, I do believe in vampires.”
    “Metaphorically?”
she teases him. “No one would know you’re an English teacher.”
    He pours her coffee and puts it on the breakfast bar and sheclimbs aboard a stool and they each sip their coffee and are silent. He wants to ask her what she’s doing here. She wants to ask him the same question—
What are you doing here, Jamie? What’s happened to you since I left the States?
But neither does. The admonition from their childhood to avoid intrusive questions—to mind your own business—still censors their speech.
    “Do you want to sleep for a while?” Jamie asks instead.
    “Sleep? I just got here. Take me somewhere, show me something, introduce me to someone. Feed me!” Ellen suddenly remembers she’s ravenous.
    “Okay.” He grins again. Ellen can’t get enough of that grin. “I can do the last. There’s somewhere we can go for breakfast you’ll like.”
    “Perfect!”
    JAMIE AND ELLEN WALK SLOWLY into Hillcrest, a part of San Diego Jamie likes. It feels a little offbeat to him, not dangerously so, but not bland or modern or touristy as some of his adopted city can be. It’s only a few minutes past seven and the staff at Sweet & Savory is just setting out the bright blue metal tables that occupy a thin strip of sidewalk.
    Inside the shop, Ellen is instantly delighted. “Oh, look!” she tells Jamie as she surveys the large, open, high-ceilinged room, mostly taken up by enormous ovens and bread-making tables.
    “I know,” he tells her, amused at her exuberance, “I’m here all the time.”
    Behind tall panels of glass, customers can watch the various breads being mixed and kneaded, baked, and taken out of the ovens before being loaded onto cooling racks where they are displayed for sale.
    “Oh, the smell!” Ellen says.
    “And they have pastries.” Jamie shows her the bulbous bakery case with its shelves upon shelves of flaky and sweet enticements. “There are scones or muffins, croissants, tarts, slices of frittata …”
    “One of each!” she says instantly.
    He grins at her, shaking his head.
    “What?” she asks him. “I have appetites.”
    “Go get us a table outside,” Jamie says, “and I’ll bring the food and cappuccinos.” He’s still smiling. The expression on his face makes Ellen happy.
    AT THE SMALL ROUND TABLE , just big enough for two people, a Shasta daisy resting in the center bud vase, white and fresh against the vivid blue, Ellen heaves a sigh as she sits down. She’s made it here. She loves her brother. Everything will be all right. At this moment, she’s certain of it. Checking to make sure Jamie is still engaged in pointing out their breakfast, she lights a quick cigarette.
    She tells herself to calm down, that she must take things slowly. They will have to find their way back to that old intimacy that made them both feel some measure of safety. Maybe then he’ll be able to hear her.
Small steps
, she cautions herself, although her blood is rushing with the urgency of disclosure.
    “It’s not one of everything, but it’s a sampling,” Jamie says as he unloads a tray holding several plates of various muffins—blueberry, corn with poppy seeds,