Memories of You. Margot DaltonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Table of Contents
“I can’t believe what I’m about to do.”
Camilla carried her cat into the bedroom, brooding as she rested her chin on his head. She’d been worrying about her safety ever since the beginning of the school term when Jon Campbell had turned up in her classroom and scared her half to death.
But despite her fear, she was taking more and more risks—edging farther out onto thin ice with every day that passed
“I really can’t believe I’m doing this, Elton. I’m falling in love with his kids, and now I’ve actually agreed to go to his ranch this weekend. What on earth is wrong with me?”
She tossed the cat onto the bed, where he curled up and watched with interest as she opened her closet door.
“I don’t have the slightest idea what to pack.” She hauled down a couple of leather duffel bags from an upper shelf. “What exactly do you wear for a weekend jaunt with a man who terrifies you?”
Memories of You, Margot Dalton’s seventeenth Superromance novel, is set in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, where she and her husband have recently decided to spend their winters. For Margot, it’s like coming home. She was born in Alberta, and despite the cold temperatures, she takes pleasure in the clear, crisp, sunny days.
In addition to her Superromance novels, this bestselling author has also written seven books in Harlequin’s popular Crystal Creek series. She has an upcoming title in the new Delta Justice series, and has contributed novellas to two anthologies. As well, she writes mainstream novels for MIRA Books.
Memories of You
Margot Dalton
June 1977
TODAY WAS MY seventeenth birthday; nobody remembered but me.
The rain is coming in the window again where some of the glass has broken away. Last week I nailed a scrap of tar paper across the opening, but it keeps coming loose. The rain blows in and falls onto my face and shoulders. I’m so cold.
I can hear them outside my room, so I turn my face to the wall and try to concentrate on the rain. It rattles on the metal body of the trailer like gunshots, and the whole thing shakes in every gust of wind.
They’re both drunk, but my mother is worse. She’s been screaming and throwing things. Now she’s starting to cry, so it won’t be long till she passes out. That’s the way it always happens.
I wonder what shape the man is in. This is a new one, a guy she picked up last week at the bar. I don’t know him yet, so I’m afraid. They’re all like wild animals, you have to learn their habits so you can feel safe around them. This one looks at me sometimes, but he’s never made a move.
He’s so ugly. It makes my stomach heave, thinking about him. I’m not sure my mother even realizes anymore how ugly they are. He’s got a big roll around his middle and a spotty little beard, and his breath stinks. One of his front teeth is missing, too.
A bug scurries over my blankets, and I flick it away and hope it’s gone. God knows what else is living in here. It’s always so dirty. I try to clean things up but. it’s impossible because every night my mother brings some filthy man home to drink with her. They drop food and knock things over, then pass out on the floor or on her bed. They spill liquor, too, and it makes sticky pools that draw the bugs.
I can’t hear my mother’s voice anymore. She must be asleep. The man’s singing some kind of drunken song. I remember how he looked at me earlier and I wonder if he’s going to try to come in here tonight.
If he does, I intend to kill him. I have a hunting knife under the pillow and I’m not afraid to use it. I’m not.
Today is my seventeenth birthday.
Twenty years later
JON CAMPBELL WATCHED in surprise as the beautiful woman at the back of the classroom stared at him across the row of desks. It was just a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity