Read Online The Girl in the Window by Valerie Douglas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Valerie Douglas
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at a time, and it will be fine.”
It was fine, one day at a time.
Then had come the heart attack, and Ruth had been gone.
It had been so sudden, so unexpected. All the signs had been missed, they said. Ruth had complained of being tired and gone up to bed.
She hadn’t awakened.
Beth’s anchor, the one person she had been able to go to, was no longer there.
Matt, though, was.
Somehow, with his help, she’d gotten through it, through the funeral, the reassigning of the other children, her family dispersing. A great emptiness had opened where Ruth had once been, and with her had gone their family.
The grief had been shocking, but whenever she’d started to feel lost, Matt had been there for her.
As she’d been there for him when he’d needed her, when his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
It had been astonishing to be needed, to be wanted. As much as she’d loved Matt’s mother – like Matt she’d been terribly kind – it had been so strange for Beth to be needed. To find that she had the strength to be there for Matt when he needed her… She hadn’t known she could do that.
Then her father had died and this house had become hers.
What the good lord giveth, the good lord taketh away. Some woman had said that at Matt’s funeral. As if his death had been the price for her inheritance.
Those words had been stunning.
Beth couldn’t believe in a God that cruel. Or that people could.
Standing in her old bedroom, she wept openly, her head tipped back against the wall as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
Daddy .
She hadn’t known he’d died until the lawyers had come.
It was Matt she grieved for more, for the man who’d stood at her side all too briefly in good times and bad, not the one who’d sent her away.
Bowing her head, she wept all the tears they wouldn’t let her cry at Matt’s funeral, as if her years with Matt hadn’t counted because she hadn’t been married to him. Not yet.
She remembered the days lying beside him in bed, talking of the future. Those plans were dust. Nor could she grieve for him as a wife, because she hadn’t been one, not yet, although that promise had been made.
Slowly, Beth slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor and could wrap her arms around her knees to console herself.
Apparently there was some unspoken rule that you couldn’t grieve fiercely and deeply unless you were married. The mourning period was somehow different if you weren’t. Or so it seemed.
Yet it didn’t feel different.
It didn’t matter that they’d been together for three years, longer than some people were married. It wasn’t considered real until they’d actually been before a minister or judge no matter how real it had felt in her heart.
Apparently loving Matt hadn’t been enough.
It never was.
Matt had been coming to see her the day he was killed. She’d just learned of her inheritance of the house. Suddenly it looked as if all their dreams might be coming true.
They’d planned a dinner to celebrate because Matt loved her cooking.
She never considered herself a chef because to her it was just cooking, her legacy from Ruth, dead those past two years.
Cooking was what you did to welcome folks, to make them feel at home. They could call it hospitality services, but to Beth it was cooking and she was very good at it, a tribute to her foster mother, a legacy, something to carry on. For Ruth.
Beth had loved Ruth’s children, her foster brothers and sisters, but among all of them it had been Beth who’d carried on that tradition. It was she who’d been the cook.
So that was what she’d become.
And there had been Matt.
Sitting on the floor of what had been her old bedroom Beth tried to call him up in her mind, to summon a clear picture of his face, of the features she’d once loved so well, and couldn’t.
He was starting to leave her. She was losing him.
Bowing her head, she wept at the thought.
I’m so sorry , she thought.
He deserved
It was fine, one day at a time.
Then had come the heart attack, and Ruth had been gone.
It had been so sudden, so unexpected. All the signs had been missed, they said. Ruth had complained of being tired and gone up to bed.
She hadn’t awakened.
Beth’s anchor, the one person she had been able to go to, was no longer there.
Matt, though, was.
Somehow, with his help, she’d gotten through it, through the funeral, the reassigning of the other children, her family dispersing. A great emptiness had opened where Ruth had once been, and with her had gone their family.
The grief had been shocking, but whenever she’d started to feel lost, Matt had been there for her.
As she’d been there for him when he’d needed her, when his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
It had been astonishing to be needed, to be wanted. As much as she’d loved Matt’s mother – like Matt she’d been terribly kind – it had been so strange for Beth to be needed. To find that she had the strength to be there for Matt when he needed her… She hadn’t known she could do that.
Then her father had died and this house had become hers.
What the good lord giveth, the good lord taketh away. Some woman had said that at Matt’s funeral. As if his death had been the price for her inheritance.
Those words had been stunning.
Beth couldn’t believe in a God that cruel. Or that people could.
Standing in her old bedroom, she wept openly, her head tipped back against the wall as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
Daddy .
She hadn’t known he’d died until the lawyers had come.
It was Matt she grieved for more, for the man who’d stood at her side all too briefly in good times and bad, not the one who’d sent her away.
Bowing her head, she wept all the tears they wouldn’t let her cry at Matt’s funeral, as if her years with Matt hadn’t counted because she hadn’t been married to him. Not yet.
She remembered the days lying beside him in bed, talking of the future. Those plans were dust. Nor could she grieve for him as a wife, because she hadn’t been one, not yet, although that promise had been made.
Slowly, Beth slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor and could wrap her arms around her knees to console herself.
Apparently there was some unspoken rule that you couldn’t grieve fiercely and deeply unless you were married. The mourning period was somehow different if you weren’t. Or so it seemed.
Yet it didn’t feel different.
It didn’t matter that they’d been together for three years, longer than some people were married. It wasn’t considered real until they’d actually been before a minister or judge no matter how real it had felt in her heart.
Apparently loving Matt hadn’t been enough.
It never was.
Matt had been coming to see her the day he was killed. She’d just learned of her inheritance of the house. Suddenly it looked as if all their dreams might be coming true.
They’d planned a dinner to celebrate because Matt loved her cooking.
She never considered herself a chef because to her it was just cooking, her legacy from Ruth, dead those past two years.
Cooking was what you did to welcome folks, to make them feel at home. They could call it hospitality services, but to Beth it was cooking and she was very good at it, a tribute to her foster mother, a legacy, something to carry on. For Ruth.
Beth had loved Ruth’s children, her foster brothers and sisters, but among all of them it had been Beth who’d carried on that tradition. It was she who’d been the cook.
So that was what she’d become.
And there had been Matt.
Sitting on the floor of what had been her old bedroom Beth tried to call him up in her mind, to summon a clear picture of his face, of the features she’d once loved so well, and couldn’t.
He was starting to leave her. She was losing him.
Bowing her head, she wept at the thought.
I’m so sorry , she thought.
He deserved
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