Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

and had the man on his knees, with his hands cuffed in front of him. Procedure demanded the suspect to be handcuffed behind his back, but Kay had signaled Elliot to make an exception. She wanted Bill’s hands to reveal, through gestures and reactions, as many of his secrets as possible.

Bill watched, shocked, how Blanche sobbed at the side of her son, and grieved with her as if someone else had just pulled the trigger. Then Blanche turned toward him, closing the distance between them until she towered over him, lowering her face disfigured by anger until it almost touched his, her small fists clenched at her chest.

“You stupid, arrogant fool. Dylan is your son. Yours and mine!”

53First Night

Thirty-One Years Ago

They were moving.

Bill’s mother had decided to build another house, at least three times as big as the old one, and to abandon the home of his childhood. She’d chosen a large piece of land closer to the highway, on a gentle slope, adorned with mature trees that would bring shade to the house in the summer. Like always, if his mother had chosen, so it was. Decided.

In June that year, they’d broken ground. Every day, his parents spent more and more time at the site of their new home, supervising the installation of fixtures and appliances, giving direction, driving people crazy. His mother had invented the notion of control freak, and the wealth of the family was a paradox, because, as he’d learned in business school, companies that were managed by such controlling, mercurial, and incompetent leaders were doomed to fail. Only theirs wasn’t, making Bill wonder about the worth of everything he’d learn in class.

He still had a few classes left, and he’d graduate that fall with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, ahead of schedule by almost a year. All the time he’d been a student, he lived at home, raising eyebrows left and right, from his parents who would’ve welcomed the opportunity for their son to socialize and meet wealthy young women at Stanford, to his coeds, who would’ve loved to hang out with the handsome young man who drove a black Porsche convertible.

Only he chose to drive it home every night.

No one knew the reason why, and Bill wasn’t sharing.

Moving day approached, and Carole decided to send the tweens to camp, to get rid of their constant bickering about who would get the biggest room, if they would have their own TV, or how their stuff would be moved. Bill and Blanche were the only ones left behind, both willing to help their parents with the logistics of the move.

It came down to them to supervise the movers as they picked and chose from select items Carole wanted moved. The bulk of the stuff was to stay behind, even the hammered copper rooster hanging on the kitchen walls, a gift from Bill’s great-grandparents whose image had found its way into the stylized logo of the company. The furniture, TV set, most of their clothes, everything was to be abandoned, and Carole couldn’t care less what was to come of it. “It belongs to a different era,” she’d replied when asked, and she was adamant about it. In her new house, everything was going to be new.

That night, their parents were going to stay at the new house, supervising the delivery and installation of the custom furniture. Bill stayed at the old house, wrapping up some homework for his economics project, while Blanche was just happy to be left alone, to read and watch TV on the sofa by the large picture window with a view of the woods.

When he finished his homework, Bill moved to the living room, and found Blanche reading and listening to music. He suggested a movie and some microwave popcorn, and she squealed with joy, but asked him to give her the time to take a shower first. She rushed into the bathroom and soon he could hear the water running and Blanche’s melodious voice humming a pop hit they both liked.

Then everything went dark.

When the power went out, Blanche screamed. Bill jumped off the sofa and rushed to the bathroom. He knocked on the door, but Blanche kept screaming, sobs mixing with her wails. Hesitating for a split second, he opened the door and let Blanche’s cries guide him to her in the pitch darkness.

She was standing in the bathtub, shaking hard under the flow of hot water. He turned off the faucet and extended his arm, grazing against her breast by accident. She latched onto it with both her hands.

“It’s okay, Blanche, it’s just a power outage, nothing more.”

“I’m so scared,” she whimpered. “I can’t see. I can’t—”

“Shh… It’s okay,” he said, grabbing a towel off the rack and handing it to her.

“N—no,” she quavered, not letting go of his arm. “You do it.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She heaved, crying uncontrollably. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall.”

That was Blanche, sensitive, frail, her vivid imagination her worst enemy.

Letting her hold on to his hand, he managed to land the towel on her shoulders, but she still didn’t move. She shivered, her teeth clattering, although it wasn’t that cold.

“Come on, step over the tub. I won’t let you fall.”

“Uh-uh,” she whimpered. “I’m afraid. I’ll just sit down in the tub until you find a flashlight.”

“Chicken,” he joked, “cluck-cluck-clackity-cluck, my sister’s yellow and I’m out of luck,” he improvised, then laughed out loud. She joined in his laughter, tears still coloring her voice. “Come on, don’t be such a pain.”

Unclasping her hand off his arm, she slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not a pain. I’m afraid of the dark. But don’t tell anyone. Maddie will laugh at me and Kendall will start turning off the lights whenever he can.” Her teeth rattled. “I’m freezing. Do you think the heat’s still working?”

She was going to catch a cold. She was wet, her long hair dripping, and the power outage could take a while. Without warning, he scooped her in his arms