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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

Her eyes blank and staring at the wall, she said, “I had a bad dream that an animal was chasing me.” She stood, pulled up her underwear. “Will you make me pancakes for breakfast, Momma?”

“Sure.”

She pulled her nightgown over her head, dropped it on the bathroom floor, and walked back to her bedroom in her underwear.

I smiled at her nightgown. As a kid, I’d never slept in a nightgown. I slept in the same clothes I wore all day. Or the day before.

This small detail, putting Emily to bed in clean pajamas, was something to measure myself by. If my daughter slept in a clean nightgown, then I was a good parent. It wasn’t true, of course, but it was the opposite of what my mother had done, and that reassured me.

I stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. Today was going to be the day I got answers.

18

18

“Are there horses and cows at my school?” Emily said, smiling up at me, slipping her hand into mine as we walked through Owen Elementary parking lot.

“Nope, just kids and teachers, same as your last school.”

“Hm.” Disappointed.

“Did someone tell you there’d be horses?”

“No,” she said. “I thought since it’s farm country, there’d be horses.”

Farm country had been my reference. I can’t believe we moved out to farm country, I’d said more than a few times.

“There are farms around here. Wisconsin is known for cheese and milk, so there are lots of cows.”

Lots of cows, and so many failed dairy farms. I’d had several mini lectures in the dairy section of Yellow Valley’s Walmart since we’d been here. A guy with deep wrinkles in his face and wearing a Brewers cap had told me the governor screwed all the dairy farmers nearly a decade ago, gave them grants to increase their milk production, think big, he’d told them, and they’d listened. They’d exceeded their production targets. You know what they got for it? Less money. Everyone wins when farmers produce more milk except the farmers. “One of my buddy’s farms went under,” he’d said, reaching in the cooler for his third gallon of milk. “Guy was dumping milk down the drain and slaughtering calves cuz he couldn’t support more livestock. He set his place on fire. Smoked himself along with the cows too stupid to leave through the open barn. Some were smart enough to escape the smoke, so now we got ourselves some roaming cows here. It wouldn’t be too hard to catch ’em, but the funny thing is, no one wants them. Don’t be surprised if you see a wandering cow,” he’d said as he rolled his cart away.