Stitches in Time by Barbara Michaels Page B

reaching out with both arms as if she would embrace his thighs. His breath caught harshly, but he moved back, beyond her grasp . “ I can’t risk it. Not any longer. It never was important —”
    â€œ Not to you ?” Watching him, she said again, in a different voice . “ No, not to you .”
    He hunched his shoulders uneasily, tried to avoid her eyes . “ What did you expect? You’re lucky to get off so easily. It could be worse, you know. It will be worse if you don’t stop behaving this way .”
    Still on her knees she straightened her back and lifted her head. “Don’t do this,” she said, very softly. “I’m warning you .”
    â€œ Are you threatening me?” His sullen, angry face relaxed into incredulous amusement. “Well. That settles it. I was willing to be accommodating if you behaved yourself, but that you should dare…You’ve only yourself to blame. I’ve done all I can. ”
    Turning on his heel he strode out, slamming the door behind him. For several minutes she did not move. Then she rose slowly to her feet and went to the bureau. The objects on it were in wild disarray as they always were; mechanically she set them in order, bottles and jars and brushes. Before long she found what she wanted .
    Â 
    The clatter of childish footsteps and the babble of childish voices woke Rachel at dawn. Groggy from lack of sleep, at first she couldn’t remember why she felt so terrible. A test for which she hadn’t studied, gym class with that nasty Sue Collins making snotty remarks about her bra size…Maybe she could convince her mother she was sick…
    When she got herself focused in time she felt even worse. There was no way of getting out of this one—no trusting parent to con, not even a hope of playing hooky. She heard Cheryl, trying vainly to hush the children—“You’ll wake poor Rachel, let her sleep”—and let out a muffled groan.
    They would have a nice day for the drive. The rays of the rising sun slipped into the room, strengthening the blues and greens of the braided rug, brightening the pattern of the quilt thrown over the chair. Averting her eyes from that reminder, Rachel headed for the bathroom.
    The reflection of her drawn face and shadowed eyes made her turn from the mirror. How could anyone see that face and fail to suspect the truth? Only a few more hours, she reminded herself, and hid the dark circles with foundation, brightened the pale mouth with lipstick. Without makeup she looked so sickly Cheryl was bound to fuss over her. She couldn’t stand sympathy from that source, not today.
    Freezing her face into a smile, she went downstairs and was relieved to find only Cheryl, who was wiping the sink and looking infuriatingly relaxed. I’ll go crazy if she dawdles like that all morning, Rachel thought. She had to force herself to speak casually.
    â€œDon’t bother with that, Cheryl, I’ll finish cleaning upafter you leave. You musn’t be late getting off. What can I do to help?”
    â€œMy goodness, you’re bright and cheerful this morning,” Cheryl said with a laugh. “You must have had a good, sound night’s sleep.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m glad you weren’t disturbed. That rotten Adam turned up at two a.m., can you imagine? He woke poor Tony, fumbling at the door. I guess I can’t blame Adam; he had no way of knowing Tony would be on the alert for funny noises, but honestly!”
    â€œSo he’s here,” Rachel said.
    â€œYes, he’s here. Tony made him sleep in the other twin bed in his room so he wouldn’t disturb us tramping around upstairs.” The coffee had finished dripping. Cheryl poured two cups and sat down at the table. “Relax while you can,” she said cheerfully. “The thundering horde will be back soon. I sent them outside because they were making such a racket. They’re