The Amaranth Enchantment Read Online Free PDF

heard a kitchen chair creak and scrape against the floor, followed by her slow, heavy footsteps. My heart beat a dozen times between each of her steps.
    Why was she taking so long?
    At last she appeared around the corner. "What is it?"
    "It's Uncle," I said. "I think he's..." The dam broke, and I began to cry.
    She pressed her lips together and pushed past me to the bed. She lifted Uncle's hand and listened at his nose and mouth. Then she straightened and looked at me.
    I saw the charade in her eyes. She knew! She'd known since morning. She'd let me find him this way on purpose, but not until she'd gotten half a day's hard cleaning out of me.
    She sucked on her lower lip, chewing it with her rodent teeth.
    "Look what you've done to him," she said, her voice soft and deadly. "He's worn out from the burden of caring for you all these years, ever since your high-living parents died and left nothing provided for you. The strain killed him in the end. I hope you're pleased."
    Aunt's red face and gray-clad body swam before my watery eyes. She always found new holes in my armor. Hateful lies and nonsense! Of course I didn't kill Uncle.
    But maybe it was for my sake that he put up with her 42
    so long. Maybe, if it weren't for me, he could have left the old shrew and found some gladness. Maybe she was right.
    Aunt crossed the room and delivered a stinging slap to my face. "I'm just sorry he died before he could find out how you returned the thanks for all he's done for you, you thieving little vixen." She struck me on the other side, and this time, her hand was a fist.
    This pain burned. I stumbled back out the door. "What?"
    Aunt caught me, grabbed my chin and jerked it so I was forced to look at her.
    Her breath in my face was foul. "You have one minute to be gone from here, before I call the constables."
    I tried to speak for myself. "Thieving? What--"
    Aunt answered with her palm on my cheek. "Don't 'what?' me." Slap. "I've been to your room this morning." Slap. "Boxes of family heirlooms--" Slap. "Rifled through, precious ornaments and silver taken--the few things I have left of my poor mother's." Slap. "You've eaten your bread at our table your whole life, Page 14
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    and this is how you thank us for our sweat and sacrifice." Slap. Slap.
    The irony of it overwhelmed me. I'd endured her for Uncle's sake, and he'd endured her for mine. She trapped us both. And now, for Peter's theft and Uncle's death, I was blamed.
    I stood tall. "I've never stolen anything from you, Aunt. I can explain about the missing things. There was a young man in my room last night, and he--"
    43
    Aunt screamed. "Taking up with men! A slattern, sneaking around with boys in her room while we sleep, bringing disgrace down on us!" She boxed both my ears. Then she reached for the poker by the stove and brandished it like a sword.
    Had she gone mad? She had never used a weapon on me before, never done worse than what hands could do. Not with Uncle around.
    I edged away.
    She squinted, her stout bosom heaving, the end of her poker drawing circles in the air.
    Then, looking shaken, she lowered it to the ground. She held her index finger up before her nose. "One. Minute."
    I swallowed and pushed past her toward the door. "I'll just go get my things."
    She blocked my path with a meaty arm. "You have no things."
    I turned and walked on shaky legs down the hall and through the shop. I felt as though someone was forcing me to walk off a cliff. What happens to a girl kicked out of her home and robbed of even her petty possessions?
    I supposed I'd soon find out.
    I let the door slam behind me.
    44

Chapter 7
    Freezing air drew me up sharp. My coat was one of the things I'd left behind.
    Frost lay over the dingy shop windows of Feldspar Street like a coat of dust.
    I glanced up at Uncle's bedroom window.
    "Good-bye, sir."
    Then I hurried away before Aunt could decide to come outdoors and vent more of her