The Betrayed Read Online Free PDF

family that girl has in the world.” She brought her drink over to the sitting area and settled stiffly into one of the high-backed Queen Anne chairs, taking a deep breath before she continued. “You need to think about that. I know that we have had our . . . disagreements ... in the past. But we need to put all of that behind us now. Whatever you think of me, Amanda needs you—needs us— and Lord help you if you shirk that responsibility.” As you have in the past , was left unspoken, but hung in the air between them.
    Sydney held her mother’s gaze, searching her eyes—for what, she didn’t know. Her mother still had a leathery disposition, but with it came a strength that Sydney had always admired in spite of herself. Only hours after learning of Elizabeth’s murder, Lydia had already regrouped and composed herself sufficiently to think of the future. Sydney still couldn’t even grasp the reality of the present. “She has you,” Sydney said after a moment. “I’ve no doubt you’ll get her through this, no matter what.”
    Lydia shook her head. “Not good enough.” She set her drink down on the coffee table, moving a coaster over so she wouldn’t leave a ring on the expensive mahogany. “I’m old, Sydney,” she said. “I have no illusions about the way you and your sister viewed my skills as a mother; neither of you made any effort to hide your disdain. But I did the best I could. I tried . I may not have succeeded always—or even often—but I made the effort; and everything I did, I did because I thought it was in my children’s best interest.” She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, and for just a moment Sydney thought she saw a crack in the veneer her mother displayed to the world at all times. Then she straightened her back and looked up at Sydney again. “But that was a long time ago, and I was younger then. I’m sixty-five years old now, and I’m too old and tired to raise another child—certainly too old and tired to do it by myself.” She looked down at her hands again. “I’m asking for your help.”
    Sydney’s eyes never left her mother’s face. Before the summer, she’d been back to D.C. only once in the prior nine years—for her father’s funeral five years before. Even then, she had stayed with a friend rather than at home. She spoke to her mother once a month, if that. Her mother had flown out to her graduation, and they had seen each other on a few rare occasions, but they were strangers now. Nine years out from under her mother’s controlling fist had turned Sydney into a different person, independent and self-reliant. And yet now, here again, she felt insecure and tentative once more.
    The years had changed her mother, too, she could see. The strength was still there, but there was defensiveness to it now— as though in the solitude imposed by her children’s estrangement and her husband’s death she had begun to question some of her most firmly held beliefs. Perhaps there was more complexity to her than Sydney had ever suspected.
    “I’ll think about it,” Sydney said. She could see the disappointment in her mother’s face—or was it anger? “I’ll stay the night, at least,” she added quickly.
    “Good,” Lydia said. “I’ll have your room made up.” She nodded, almost more to herself than to her daughter, and in her eyes Sydney thought she saw a brief look of triumph that brought back a rush of unhappy memories from her younger days, when her mother was able to manipulate her at will. Had this been what her mother had wanted all along—to bring her back under her control?
    At the same time, once she agreed to help with Amanda, there was probably no going back. Even by staying for the night, she was sticking her toe in a tar pit from which she might never extricate herself, and as much as she instinctively cared for her niece, taking on the responsibility of raising her would require sacrifices she couldn’t fully comprehend. Yet,