The Abduction of Mary Rose Read Online Free PDF

emotions ran the gamut of confusion, anger and grief: the sadness at losing her mother undercut with the pain of betrayal.
    The profusion of flowers in baskets and bouquets of every kind and size emitted a cloying sweetness. It was hard to breathe. A drone of soft murmurs, occasional sniffling issued from various corners of the room. She herself remained dry-eyed. Defensive.
    Through a small clot of people, she got a glimpse of Charlotte standing at the casket, recognizable by her mane of kinky blond hair. She was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, accepting condolences from a friend who had a comforting arm around her shoulders. I should go to her, she thought. But she couldn't make herself move from the spot where she stood, near a huge brass planter spilling over with large leafy greenery that looked artificial, not so different from the way she felt herself. She felt cut off. Like an outsider. Charlotte actually is more family to Mom than I am. She's Edna's daughter. She's blood.
    But she managed to smile at those who offered their sympathy, who hugged her and said they were sorry for her loss. At one point, Charlotte came over and put an arm around her. "You okay, Naomi?" she asked, her voice filled with sympathy, and Naomi knew she was talking about more than the death of her aunt, which after the months of suffering was really a blessing. Naomi said she was fine and Charlotte nodded, patted her arm, and said she'd see her later.
    Near the close of the service she spotted Edna, an expression of defiant self-righteousness on her face, heading in her direction. What more could she possibly have to say to me? Before panic could blossom fully, suddenly Frank was there whisking her away, for which she was thankful, despite not feeling too warmly toward him at the moment. Yet, looking at him, her heart softened. The man looked like he had aged ten years overnight. This was rough on him too, even if it was his own doing, at least in part.
    "We need to talk again," he said quietly, his hand at her elbow. "Come on. I'll follow you home." He glanced at his watch. "The crowd isn't due at your place for another hour. We'll have some quiet time."
    Crowd? And then she remembered that she'd invited people back to the house after the funeral, to partake in the food people gad brought to the house, to thank them for their kind condolences. But that was before she'd read the obituary. She was quite sure she couldn't possibly face more people today. Would Edna show up? Apparently she still had more she wanted to say to her. Uncle Harold? Even though she'd always been fond of him, she didn't want to see him, nor anyone else today. She didn't want to feel their pity. Poor little orphan girl. No, she didn't need that.
    Despite mixed feelings where Frank was concerned, she was glad he was a take-over kind of person. She sensed his resolve, and tried not to think about what more he needed to tell her. Deep down, she knew it wouldn't be anything good.
    She sensed that whatever it was, Frank wanted to get it out in the open before Edna got to her. At least he'd be able to control how she heard it. Naomi couldn't imagine what more there could be that would make her feel any worse than she already did, but another part of her braced itself for an aftershock.
    This time around, they sat in the living room on the plush olive sofa with its curved legs, Frank with his forearms resting on his navy pin-striped clad thighs as he stared at the rug with its soft, faded shades of olive and rose, then up at the photo of her mother hanging above the fireplace, as if he was hoping she might offer him some advice on how to handle the situation. You should have thought of that sooner, she thought bitterly. Mom had to know the truth would come out eventually. She knew her sister better than anyone. Or maybe she really didn't, and didn't expect the viciousness Edna was capable of.
    She let her own gaze drift to the photos on the mantle, which were mostly of