A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

“She wouldn’t dare,” Jo blew out on a hiss.

Tevi’s gaze shot to her.

A slow-burning fury seeped through Jo’s veins like molten lava. “Unbelievable.”

“What’s going on? Who is she?” Tevi whispered.

Esther’s hand splayed across her chest. She stumbled down the steps so quickly Jo feared she would break her neck. “Merciful God, in heaven.”

Jo could feel Tevi’s confusion but was too shocked at Lydia’s audacity to address her youngest sister’s concern. Lydia stared back at Jo, her demeanor almost defiant, her focus resting on Jo.

Jo folded her arms across her chest, her eyes never wavering from Lydia. “Why, Victoria Tevis, don’t you recognize your own mother?”

4

M

other!” Tevi’s shock jarred Jo to what had just spilled from her lips. “I thought…”

“I could use some help here,” Lydia called out.

“She had a lot of nerve bringing that woman—” Jo caught sight of the astonishment on Tevi’s face and froze.

“What, exactly, are you trying to say, Jo? That our mother has been alive all these years?” Tevi’s voice took on a shrilly trill that rivaled the highest C on the upper register of a piano’s keyboard. It sounded oddly out of tune.

“It’s complicated, Tevi.” Jo marched down the steps to the rear of the car and hoisted out a couple of the smaller bags.

“Josephine,” Esther called. “Leave those bags be. Thomas’ll bring ’em.”

Jo, however, needed something to keep herself from wringing Lydia’s graceful neck, so she ignored the housekeeper. Thomas could get the rest of them. Frizzle met Jo on the porch, nudging her in the hip. No doubt the dog sensed her tension; he was the most reliable male she knew. The stress radiating from her could probably be felt clear across the channel to the mainland.

Inside, Jo dropped the bags she held. Head high, she stalked back in the library bound for the closed cabinet nestled to the left of the terrace doors. Tea was an insufficient antidote for the emotions pulsating through her. She pulled out Victor’s premium stash of brandy and poured herself a shot. It wasn’t like he would need it any longer. She took a large swallow, forgetting how it burned going down when one wasn’t used to drinking it on a regular basis. She began coughing violently.

A good twenty minutes went by, then Frizzle let out a sharp, deep bark then trotted over to the arch where Lydia appeared like the ever-avenging angel. She scratched him behind the ears. Happy, he moved away and plopped down on the rug with a satisfied grunt. Dead silence riddled with hostility filled the usually calming room. From her corner, Jo watched Lydia hesitate before squaring her shoulders and sauntering across the threshold. She moved with a quiet confidence Jo didn’t normally associate with her middle sister and lowered into one of the wingback chairs across from Tevi, who had slipped in quietly and planted herself on the settee.

“I did it,” Lydia said, meeting Jo’s eyes.

Keeping her expression blank, Jo moved to the other chair. “You certainly did.” Jo had not supported Lydia’s plan for liberating Eleanor from the Auburn Mental Institution.

Lydia steeled her jaw. “I did the right thing,” she said with a stubborn resolve, yet another characteristic Jo did not remember. Her middle sister was the arbitrator, the go-between, the biddable sister. Too many years had gone by; Jo had forgotten important details it appeared.

Lydia clenched her fists in her lap. “I know you didn’t want me to bring her here, but Jo, it was terrible. All they were doing was sedating her.”

Irritation flashed through Jo. “You were too young to remember how she neglected us,” she bit out. Her fury ate at her like a wild dog gnawing on a dead carcass. And Wallace Hayes…he didn’t bear thinking about.

Lydia didn’t back down. Another side of Lydia Jo hadn’t expected. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a horrible way for anyone to live.”

“How can you say that? It matters.” Jo spoke through her own clenched teeth. Sympathy poured from Lydia, filling the room like a poisonous vapor. Jo had no desire for Lydia’s—or anyone’s—pity.

“What matters is how long you both have known our mother was alive.” Cold fury came off Tevi in waves. “Were either of you planning to tell me?”

Lydia turned to Tevi, her expression one of exasperation mixed with regret. “Uncle Victor didn’t tell you?” Lydia glanced at Jo.

Jo could feel her own aggravation bounding off the walls. She flung out a hand. “We didn’t keep it from you intentionally, Tev. Lydia found out and called me. I told her to leave that woman where she was. Obviously, she ignored my advice.”

Lydia snorted. “Advice. That wasn’t advice. It was a dictate. One I decided was punishment excess, to put it bluntly.” Lydia swiveled back to Tevi. “I thought you knew. Uncle Victor said he should be the one to tell you since the news would come as a shock.”

“Well, that’s an understatement,” Tevi growled. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to let Jo and Lydia off with just a nod. “Neither one of you could be bothered to check in with me to see how I would take such news?”

Lydia jumped to her feet. “Ever since I learned Mother was alive, I’ve been working hard to save her from that horrid asylum.” She pounded the carpet in her pacing. “Six weeks ago, I entered Uncle Victor’s office. He took one look at me and the next thing I knew, I was at the table being interrogated by the master.”

Jo hated admitting it, but interrogation had been Victor’s specialty. That knowledge did little to subdue her annoyance. Lydia may have every right to defend her own actions, but Jo didn’t have to like it. Their mother had never been a mother to them.

Jo pierced Lydia’s blue eyes with her own. “Are you saying Victor knew Eleanor was there all along?” The storm of emotion roaring through Jo’s voice had it rising an octave or two. Referring to Eleanor as ‘Mother’ was never going to happen.

“Apparently.” Lydia dropped back in