Chapters (46)
In the morning I brushed my teeth and my hair, packed my nightie, and said good-bye to Rolf. He hugged me fiercely, squishing the breath out of me as he whispered in my ear, asking me if I was absolutely sure that I had to go away. I nodded against his chest and he released me, the tension of the question still trembling on the edge of his ample lower lip. I laced up my walking boots, shrugged into my backpack, and stepped out the door. I needed to visit the bank to deposit Rolf’s check and draw out my personal savings, and that would be the last of my responsibilities.
I would never become enmeshed again.
ROLF BREZINSKI: “Angelina Watson, you say? Angelina. After all these years. Yes, I knew her. Of course. Married her mother. Beautiful woman, Alice was. Never found one better. How she got saddled with a child like Angelina must have been one of God’s little jokes.
“Angelina. Like steel, she was. So hard she glinted. And it all showed in her eyes. Her eyes were—I don’t know. Mesmerizing, almost. Like no other eyes I’ve ever seen. You know how sometimes you can look into someone’s eyes and see love and softness? Alice had eyes like that. Well, when you looked into Angelina’s eyes, you knew right off that someone was in there, lurking about. No God-fearin’ mortal’s got any right to eyes like that.
“When Alice died, Angelina hung around until the house sold. Alice willed half of the house to her, of course. Then Angelina sold all her mother’s things—even her grandmother’s jewelry—and packed up and took off. She was just a young’un, but I was glad to be rid of her. And I haven’t heard of her since. Until now, that is.
“Angelina. God damn. Back like a bad penny.
“Must be bad trouble. Bad trouble, I can tell. I knew it then. That last night—I spent almost all night downstairs, thinking about her, about her ways, thinking about her loose with all that money, and I knew there would be trouble. I’d just come to decide that if I was a real man, I’d do something about her. So I went up to her room, ready to . . . ready to kill her, I guess it’s time I confessed to it—I was just going to push a pillow on her face and keep it there . . . But when I got up there, all I could see was Alice’s soft brown eyes, and how she loved that strange child . . .
“I could never really do something like that. I could never sin like that. Never. A couple a brandies give me false courage, I guess.
“Are you here to tell me I was wrong, that I should have gone through with it?”
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