Walls of Jericho. Lynn Bulock

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      And

      To my parents, Walter and Betty Hosea,

      a truly matched pair

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Chapter One

      It was going to be a lovely wedding. Claire Jericho was sure of it. Now, if she could just marshal the troops to get there in time she could enjoy her father’s lovely wedding.

      Was she the only one in the whole extended family who could get ready on time? She paced the living room, hearing the click of her heels on the hardwood floor. She could hear the boys thumping around upstairs. Her two had the vague excuse of adding their cousin to the normal chaos of getting ready. But Ben had no excuse at all, and Laurel had their father’s whole apartment to herself to get ready in. Where was she?

      Running late or trying to replace panty hose at the last moment, Claire told herself. Old habits died hard. She could still remember the bathroom mirror wars when all three girls were at home, in this same house. Laurel was always the last one ready, no matter how much time they gave her.

      Carrie, of course, was first. But then she had to be talked into wearing something better than jeans, a ball cap and T-shirt, which made the whole process last twice as long. And while her parents squabbled with Carrie, or tried to hurry Laurel along, Claire quietly got ready for whatever event they were going to.

      Most of the time, it was church at Friedens Community Chapel—where they were all heading today if the rest of them ever got ready. She picked a tiny piece of lint off the skirt of her pink dress, and sighed. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”

      As if Laurel had actually heard Claire for a change, she came through the front door. “Sorry it took this long. I put a run through the first pair of panty hose with my fingernail.” She waggled her bright fuchsia nails. “Not used to these most of the time. They are elegant, though, aren’t they?”

      “Definitely.” And probably cost more than Claire’s weekly grocery bill. California was far different from Friedens, for sure. Laurel looked elegant from head to toe, with her brown hair in a perfect chignon, slim suit the same shade as her nails, and gorgeous pumps in a shade Claire couldn’t even describe.

      Her sister saw her looking at the shoes. “Yeah, I know, they’re a bit much. But everybody says gray is going to be the new neutral for a couple seasons. I saw them at the mall and bought them before I thought about them. Would you believe that I actually had them halfway home, ready to show them to Sam, before I remembered—” Laurel’s voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears.

      “Okay, now don’t smear the makeup,” Claire said, grabbing a tissue out of the side pocket of her dress. That was one of the reasons she’d worn this pale pink one. It had pockets, and she knew she’d need them to fill with tissues. But she hadn’t thought she’d need them until church. “We said we’d get through this without thinking about Mom or Sam or any of those things.”

      Laurel’s lip trembled. “I know. And I really meant it.” She ran the backs of both hands up her cheeks. “There. I’m done. Now let’s see where those guys are.”

      “I think they’re about to find us.” Claire could hear somebody marching down the stairs. It was a lighter step than usual, but all four males upstairs had traded their usual athletic shoes for something dressier today. The sounds rounded the bend to the landing, and shiny black loafers with pinstriped pant СКАЧАТЬ