Dark Legacy by Jen Talty (reading books for 4 year olds .txt) 📗

“They’re a cute couple,” Annette said. “Come on, our table’s ready. Let’s get this show on the road. Time to celebrate our freedom.”

Shannon slipped into the booth and glanced around. She’d never thought she would be at a place in her life where she could live in Lake George, much less frequent an establishment her father had often enjoyed. She scanned the restaurant for anyone who might recognize her as the young girl her father had put on display and up for sale.

Even if someone recognized her or she recognized them, no one would say a word. It wasn’t the kind of thing a person acknowledged. Half the time, Shannon wanted someone to show a flicker of recognition with a huge dose of shame so she could let them know they hadn’t broken her. That she’d managed to pull her life out of the hell they’d held her in and made a difference in the world.

The other half prayed no one knew who her father was.

“I do the same thing, you know?” Annette reached out, resting her warm fingers over Shannon’s hand.

“Do what?”

“Please. Anytime I come to this town and see a man or woman who looks at me funny, I wonder if they know I was married to Dwight. If they were part of his circle of crazy friends and are still doing despicable things.” Annette leaned across the wooden table. “I even worry that maybe someone out there—besides the two of us—suspects what I did.”

“You did the one thing no one else could have or would have done for me.”

“I should have done it sooner. For that, I will always be sorry.”

“You have no reason to be,” Shannon said. “What you did, you did out of love, and I will take that to my grave.”

“I’d do it again, and I wouldn’t think twice.” Annette hadn’t been a great stepmother, but in the end, she’d been the only adult in Shannon’s life who took responsibility for what’d happened and stood by Shannon. Annette might not have been perfect, but she’d done the one thing that Shannon’s own mother couldn’t.

“I wish I could repay you for all you have done for me over the years,” Shannon said.

“Honey, you made a life for yourself. A good one. That’s payment enough.”

“We need to get ourselves a couple of beers.” Shannon hated beer with a passion, and not just because it had been her father’s drink of choice but because she’d been forced to drink it for most of her youth. Now, once a year, she and her stepmother enjoyed her father’s favorite brew and ate the meal he’d had the night he died.

The meal that’d sealed her future.

“What are we waiting for?” Shannon waved the waitress over.

“My two favorite customers.” Sandy pushed out her hip, holding an order pad in her hand. Sandy was a survivor and used to be one of Shannon’s patients. Shannon didn’t like to socialize with any past or present clients, but Sandy had become a friend. They were about the same age, and Sandy had come to her years after her abuser died but she still hadn’t been able to move her life forward.

“What can I get you two this evening?”

Shannon held up two fingers. “We’ll take two orders of the fresh bass, fried, onion rings, and bring two more beers with the meal.”

“My, my. This isn’t like you two. It’s usually salad and wine. Is there a special occasion?”

“Once a year, we celebrate our friendship by splurging,” Annette said with a big Southern smile. For years, Shannon had wanted to ask Annette if what she’d done haunted her, but then she’d have to actually acknowledge what had happened with words—and Shannon had promised Annette she never would. Besides, Annette had gone through therapy, remarried, and had a wonderful life.

Had Dwight Brendel not died, neither of them would have survived.

“I’ll put the order in. If you need anything else, just let me know,” Sandy said.

Shannon held up her glass in a toast. “Here’s to that first day of our new lives.”

They tapped their glasses together and laughed before chugging a few gulps.

The bubbles ticked Shannon’s throat. The malty-yeast flavor angered her tastebuds.

Annette gagged and coughed. “Damn, that shit is fucking horrible. It’s like drinking outhouse water.”

“That’s gross,” Shannon said, shaking her head. Her stepmother had no filter, one of the things Shannon loved about her. “So, how are those grandbabies of yours?”

Annette had remarried about fifteen years ago. George, her husband, was a kind, gentle soul, who treated her like a princess. He had three kids, two about Shannon’s age, and one a few years older. All three had at least two children apiece, and Annette made for a great stepgrandmother. She thrived in her marriage, and Shannon was truly happy that Annette had been able to find real love.

The kind that lasted a lifetime.

The kind most people only dreamt about.

The kind of love Shannon prayed her little girl had because Shannon had decided to give her up.

“They are wonderful,” Annette said, beaming with pride, her big, Texas smile pushing her cheeks upward. She’d aged in the last few years, with deep-set wrinkles around the eyes and lips now, but she had such a young spirit, you didn’t notice the age. “You’re going to be sorry you asked.” Annette tapped her cell phone. “I won’t go into details, but here are the latest pictures. We had a big family barbeque a couple of weeks ago.” Annette lifted her gaze and scowled. “That you were invited to…but didn’t come. I don’t live that far away. It’s only an hour and a half from here.”

Shannon loved Annette for always treating her like the daughter she’d never had. Not a single family event had gone by without an issued invitation, and Shannon attended most—but never the intimate barbecues. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I do. And you’re wrong. George loves you, and so do all of his kids.