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Back The Silence of the Library Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. COVER
  2. PRAISE FOR TITLES BY MIRANDA JAMES
  3. ALSO BY MIRANDA JAMES
  4. TITLE PAGE
  5. COPYRIGHT
  6. DEDICATION
  7. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. AFTERWORD
  49. LETTER TO THE READER
  50. SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART

He threw up again. I watched, alert for any sign that he was about to drop the can or to collapse. He seemed steady enough. I waited, and though he made a few retching sounds, nothing else issued forth. His grasp on the can loosened, and I took it from him and set it aside, trying not to look at or smell the contents.

Betts stared up at me, bleary-eyed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Could you get me a wet towel?”

“Sure. Be right back.” I hadn’t expected to play nursemaid to a drunken man tonight, but I couldn’t in all good conscience abandon him at this point, no matter how tempted I was to walk right out.

I found a washcloth, luxuriously thick, in the bathroom and soaked it in cold water. After I’d wrung out most of the water, I carried it back to the ailing Betts.

He mumbled his thanks and wiped his face several times, then folded the cloth and pressed it to his forehead.

Figuring he would be okay on his own now for a few minutes, I took the garbage can, thankfully metal, and carried it into the bathroom. I dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed them, then I stuck the can under the faucet in the bathtub and ran water into it. I sloshed that around a bit, then dumped it again in the toilet.

I did that a couple more times before I was satisfied that the garbage can was as clean as I was going to get it. Back in the living room, I set the can on the floor near Betts, just in case. He raised his head and focused on me as I was about to sit down. “Sorry to trouble you,” he said, sounding actually humble, “but would you mind getting me some soda from the bar fridge? And some crackers if you can find some? I think that would help settle my stomach a bit.”

“Sure.” I found a can of soda along with some peanut butter crackers and brought them back to him. He fumbled with the tab on the aluminum can, so I opened it for him. Then I opened the crackers, too. Once again he thanked me.

He sipped at the cola and ate a couple of crackers, avoiding my gaze for the moment. His color appeared normal again, and his eyes seemed clearer when he did at last look directly at me. He drained the can and set it aside.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Much,” he said with a faint smile. “Look, I really owe you one for helping me like this. Didn’t realize how lit I was getting. I don’t often drink like that.”