Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Praise for The Girl I Used to Be
- ALSO BY MARY TORJUSSEN
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Eighteen months earlier
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Under the light from the lamppost, I could see the woodwork on the house was freshly painted, the gates, too. There were a couple of new bay trees in huge pots on either side of the front door, and I thought of Tom going to the garden center on his own one Sunday and struggling to get those pots into the car. He wouldn’t have accepted help; I knew that.
I leaned forward and checked the garden. It was tidy and the lawn was neat. It looked as though someone had been busy there. That was usually my job and I wondered who’d been there in my absence. Tom must have paid for a professional; he’d always complained whenever I’d asked him to help me.
Car headlamps lit up the road behind me and I swore. Was that Tom coming home? I really didn’t want him to see me. Quickly I turned my key in the ignition. At the last minute I realized it was Oliver. His car pulled into his drive and he jumped out and slammed the door. He turned toward me and waved.
Reluctantly I opened my car window and turned off the engine. “Hello, Oliver.”
“Hey.” He walked down the drive toward me. “What are you doing here? Are you back home now?”
“No, I’d heard that it was up for sale. I thought I’d come and take a look.”
“Are you going in?”
Quickly I shook my head. “No. No. I’m not going to do that.”
“It’s okay, Tom’s away for the weekend.”
“He is? Where’s he gone to?” I caught myself. “Sorry, don’t answer that. It’s nothing to do with me.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think it’s private. He’s gone up to Scotland to see his brother. He set off first thing this morning and won’t be back for a couple of days. He said something about having a meeting in Glasgow on Monday morning.”
“Oh, okay. I know he has a couple of clients there.” I smiled at him. “Anyway, nice to see you.”
“Wait,” he said. “Fancy coming in for a drink?”
“No, thanks.” I spoke automatically; it had upset me seeing my house up for sale and knowing how easily I could go back. I wanted to be alone to think about my response. “I’d better get back.”
“Oh, okay.” He looked forlorn and tired, and I remembered the times I’d thought of him alone in his house.