How To Keep A Secret: A fantastic and brilliant feel-good summer read that you won’t want to end!. Sarah Morgan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Why did it feel so hard to talk to her mother?

      “Parent-child relationships are complicated.”

       Dysfunctional: relationships or behavior which are different from what is considered to be normal.

      “I get that. What I don’t get is why it still bothers me so much. Why can’t I accept things the way they are? It’s exhausting.”

      “Mmm.” Greg glanced at his watch. “Happy to deliver a lecture on the latest research into mother-daughter relationships, but I charge by the half hour and you can’t afford me.” He kissed her again. “Get dressed, or the next thing they’ll be discussing at the annual town meeting is the fact that their first-grade teacher was standing in front of the class wearing her dinosaur pajamas. Want me to cook tonight?”

      “It’s my turn. And speaking of my mother, I’m visiting her later.”

      “Thanks for the warning. Better pick up a bottle of something strong when you pass the store.”

      “Visits were so much easier when my dad was alive.”

      Greg raised an eyebrow. “He was always on the golf course.”

      “But he usually wandered in at some point and he was always pleased to see me. Mom still thinks I’m a wild child.”

      “It’s the reason I married you. I’ll see you tonight, and you can be as wild as you like.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Text me later to let me know how you are?”

      “Only if you promise not to give Pamela your phone.”

      “Or you could stop sexting.” He pulled her against him. “On second thoughts, don’t stop sexting. I like it and it’s great for my reputation.”

      “Oh please—your island approval ratings are already through the roof.” She shoved at his chest. “Go.”

      “I’ll see you later.” He scooped up his coat and car keys and made for the door. “Oh and, Jenna—”

      “What?”

      “Try to relax.” He winked at her and was gone before she could throw something.

      Shivering in the blast of cold air he’d let into the house, she walked back into the bedroom and glanced out of the window.

      Despite everything, he’d made her smile. He always made her smile.

      Then she noticed him standing by the car, his shoulders slumped, and her smile faded.

      He was always so upbeat about everything, but right now he didn’t look upbeat. Was he putting on an act for her sake?

      She waited until he drove away, then swapped pajamas for her smart black pants. Last year they’d fitted perfectly but now they were tight around the waist and she knew that had nothing to do with being pregnant and everything to do with the fact she’d started using food as a comfort.

      Greg had left coffee for her and she poured herself a cup, reached for the oatmeal and then changed her mind and took a cupcake from the tin instead. She’d made them the day before and decorated them with sugar icing. They were supposed to be a peace offering for her mother, something she could take to her book group, but she wasn’t going to miss one, was she?

      Not the healthiest breakfast, but the negative pregnancy test was enough to make her want to fall face-first into the nearest source of sugar.

      She sank her teeth into the softness of the cake and closed her eyes.

      Baking soothed her.

      If she’d had a child, she would have baked with them. She would have had the softest buttercream, the lightest sponge cakes and her cookies would have been the envy of everyone. She could imagine all the kids saying I wish my mom could cook as well as yours.

      As Jenna didn’t have any kids to eat the cupcakes, she ate most of them herself. She ate to fill a big hole in her soul, but unfortunately it filled other things, too, including her fat cells.

      She stared at the crumbs on her plate, drenched with regret and self-loathing.

      Why had she done that? It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand what was going on here. She was married to a therapist. She felt a rush of frustration that she didn’t have more control. She knew that smothering her emotions with sugar wasn’t going to solve anything, but she didn’t seem able to stop it. Her desperation for a baby had snapped something inside her.

      She felt as if her life was slipping out of her grip and it was terrifying.

      She had a sudden urge to call her sister, but that would make her late for work.

      Would her sister even understand? Lauren had the perfect life. She had a beautiful house, no money worries, a great husband and a beautiful daughter.

      And she couldn’t exactly talk to her mother.

      Nancy Stewart was the sort of person who had time and sympathy enough for everyone. Unless you happened to be her daughter.

      Jenna drove to school along empty roads. In the summer months, her journey took at least twice as long. From late May through to early September, the Vineyard hummed with visitors, both summer residents and day trippers. They came to savor the “escapist” feel of the island, but did so in such large numbers that they inadvertently turned it into a copy of the places they’d left behind.

      Jenna parked in the school parking lot and was caught at the gate by Mrs. Corren, who was anxious about Daisy, her daughter.

      Andrea Corren gave her a wobbly smile. “Hi, Jenna. How was your weekend?”

      I found out I’m not pregnant. “Good, thanks, Andrea. You?”

      “Not good.” The wobble in her smile moved to her voice. “Do you have a minute?”

      She didn’t. She had twenty hyperactive children waiting for her and she needed to keep them busy, occupied and entertained. That, she’d discovered, was the way to achieve a happy, harmonious classroom.

      What she didn’t need was to arrive late.

      But she was also a little worried about Daisy.

      “Of course.” She saw Andrea Corren’s eyes fill. “Let’s find somewhere more private.” She opted for the gym, which would be quiet for at least another half hour.

      “How can I help, Andrea?”

      She sat down on one of the small chairs. It forced her knees up at a strange angle, one of the reasons she rarely wore skirts or dresses to work. Dignity went out of the window when you taught six-year-olds. Sitting in this awkward position, she was horribly aware of the waistband of her pants biting into her stomach.

      Why had she eaten that cupcake?

      Andrea sat down next to her. “Things have been unsettled at home. Tense. We—Things are a little—rough—right now between Daisy’s father and me. Our marriage isn’t great.”

СКАЧАТЬ