Page 39 of Jealous of the Clouds
Sure, things had changed over the years. They’d grown apart, especially after her marriage. He didn’t come to her wedding and seemed to want no part of her life once she’d become a wife. The chasm grew wider after the birth of her first child. And even when that child, a little boy, perished because of what they referred to as crib death back then, Josh still didn’t come around. He didn’t even send a card.
But now…
Now, people were in danger once again. She’d rationalized Reginald Baker’s murder, told herself that some folks didn’t deserve to live, especially if they harmed her brother. The fact, though, that the police stopped seeing Josh as a suspect or person of interest ten years ago only served to relieve her.
Now, though? She had cause to worry once more.
The weight on her shoulders was growing.
Even though she adored her brother more than anyone else on earth, even she had to admit—he hadn’t been innocent for years. She wondered if he ever had.
They were both rotten, twisted in their own ways. That’s what made them such a bonded pair.
She sat up suddenly in bed, trembling, and wondering when or if she could ever get enough courage to speak out against him. To accuse, if only if it would relieve her own worry, her own shame and guilt.
Because in the end, as much as she loved her brother, she feared she could no longer hold him in her mind as worthy.
Chapter 16
Josh
I watched them from a distance. The day was unseasonably cold and bleak—gray skies with heavy clouds, which the lake reflected back in a roiling liquid mass of nearly charcoal. It almost seemed like dusk instead of midday.
The woman, frizzy-haired, older, wearing a plaid mohair coat, clung to Ted’s arm as they moved through the courtyard and out to the street in front of it. Ted looked around surreptitiously as though he were up to something and, in my book, he was. Who betrays the person they proclaimed to love? Who shuts them out so completely without even the smallest attempt at communication?
And who was that woman? A relative? A friend? I thought Ted didn’t really have many friends, and he certainly never mentioned a woman old enough to be his mother.
They got into a gray Prius parked on the west side of Sheridan Road. I wanted to follow. But my car, parked in the lot at the end of Touhy Avenue farther north, would have taken me too long to get to. They’d be long gone in the morass of Chicago traffic.
But I could go back, move my car—hopefully closer—and wait for their return. I needed the full story of what was going on here before I made any kind of move.
But I would—and will—make a move soon.
And Ted will be so sorry he ever crossed me. We could have had a good thing if he were only more trusting, more loyal. Flannery O’Connor was right when she said that a good man was hard to find.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do, or how, but Ted needed to understand his behavior toward me, his rejection, was unacceptable. Like so many other men who’ve disappointed me, all he wanted to do was take my love and give nothing in return. All I ever asked for wasthat. Why was a little fidelity and loyalty so much to want? I deserved it.
But what did he deserve?
Chapter 17
Ted
“He was right there,” I said, fastening my seat belt.
“Where?” Camille peered out the window and pushed the button to start the ignition.
“Right over there.” I gestured toward the lakefront and the sidewalk running parallel to the beaches and the gray water. “He’s been watching us.” My gut churned. Despite the chill in the air, my face burned. Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead.
Camille put the car in gear and glided almost silently into the traffic going south on Sheridan Road. I looked over my shoulder, grateful at least to see him still standing on the sidewalk facing us and watching.
“Is he following us?”
“No. I don’t think he’ll have time to get to his car, thank god.” But the implications rose up, terrifying me and making me feel like there was no safe haven. Not here, not anywhere I could imagine hiding.
“Good.”
“No, no Camille.Notgood.”
