"Spindler, Erica - In Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spindler Erica)

"How long are you staying?" Cherry sat on the other end of the couch, curling her legs under her.

"I took a leave of absence from the Post, because I just don't know," she answered honestly. "I haven't a clue how long it will take to go through Dad's things, get the house ready to sell."

"Sorry I'm late."

At Matt's voice, Avery looked up. He stood in the doorway to the living room, head cocked as he gazed at her, expression amused. He'd exchanged his uniform for blue jeans and a soft chambray shirt. He held a bouquet of fresh flowers.

"Brought Mom some posies," he said. "She in the kitchen?"

"You know Mom." Cherry crossed to him and kissed his cheek. "Dad's already complained about the dearth of grandchildren around here. Remind me to be late next time."

Matt met Avery's eyes and grinned. "Glad I missed it. Though I'll no doubt catch the rerun later."

Buddy scowled at his two children. "No grandbabies and no respect." He looked toward the kitchen. "Lilah," he bellowed, "where did we go wrong with these kids?"

Lilah poked her head out of the kitchen. "For heaven's sake, Buddy, leave the children alone." She turned her attention to her son. "Hello, Matt. Are those for the table?"

"Yes, ma'am." He ambled across to her, kissed her cheek and handed her the flowers. "Something smells awfully good."

"Come, help me with the roast." She turned to her daughter. "Cherry, could you put these in a vase for me?"

Avery watched the exchange. She could have been a part of this family. Officially a part. Everyone had expected her and Matt to marry.

Buddy interrupted her thoughts. "Have you considered staying?" he asked. "This is your home, Avery. You belong here."

She dragged her gaze back to his, uncertain how to answer. Yes, she had come home to take care of specific family business, but less specifically, she had come for answers. For peace of mind— not only about her father's death, but about her own life.

Truth was, she had been drifting for a while now, neither happy nor unhappy. Vaguely dissatisfied but uncertain why.

"Do I, Buddy? Always felt like the one marching to a different drummer."

"Your daddy thought so."

Tears swamped her. "I miss him so much."

"I know, baby girl." A momentary, awkward silence fell between them. Buddy broke it first. "He never got over your mother's death. The way she died. He loved her completely."

She'd been behind the wheel when she suffered a stroke, on her way to meet her cousin who'd flown into New Orleans. For a week of girl time—shopping and dining and shows. She had careened across the highway, into a brick wall.

A sound from the doorway drew her gaze. Lilah stood there, expression stricken. Matt and Cherry stood behind her. "It was so...awful. She called me the night before she left. She hadn't been feeling well, she said. She had run her symptoms by Phillip, had wondered if she shouldn't cancel her trip. He had urged her to go. Nothing was wrong with her that a week away wouldn't cure. I don't think he ever forgave himself for that."

"He thought he should have known," Buddy murmured. "Thought that if he hadn't been paying closer attention to his patients' health than to his own wife's, he could have saved her."

Avery clasped her shaky hands together. "I didn't know. I...he mentioned feeling responsible, but I—"

She had chosen to pacify him. To assure him none of it was his fault.

Then go on her merry way.