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

“I did the right thing,” she whispered.

Headlights appeared in the distance. Three cars slowly drove past. She wished she had the courage to step out into the night, stick out her thumb, and hitch a ride to a new beginning.

Everything would be different tomorrow.

She quickly closed the window. Her shoulder-length, dark-blond hair blew across her face.

It was nearly midnight, and her wicked stepmonster—though Annette wasn’t really the worst person in the world—and father had long ago gone to bed. Having a teenager in the house was too much for the poor woman, and her father hadn’t been too thrilled with having to entertain a few of the neighbors, so he’d gotten drunk and passed out early.

Thank God.

Shannon opened the closet. Her blanket and teddy bear were safe. So was her bottle of mother’s little helpers. Maybe tonight she’d find the courage.

But what if you wake tomorrow and it’s all different?

“Damn you, Mother.” She locked her door. She might pay for it with a black eye, but she didn’t want a visitor at three in the morning.

She climbed into the closet, closed the door, and hugged her teddy. She fiddled with the bottle of pills. She’d hold onto them all night, never taking a single one.

Wishing she could.

Tomorrow, everything would be different.

Shannon woke the next morning, forcing herself to believe that the day was filled with promise and hope—even though she knew, deep down, that nothing was different.

Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday.

And that stupid damn boat was still docked out in front of her window, reminding her that her life would never be hers.

She dressed in her favorite jeans and a V-neck shirt. When she went to the kitchen, her stepmonster, Annette, sat at the table, coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other.

The only reason Shannon had given Annette the nickname was because who in their right mind would willingly marry Dwight Brendel? Sadly, poor Annette had been snowed like so many other women, and now she was stuck in the never-ending insanity with no way out.

“You don’t smoke. You hate smoking,” Shannon said.

“Some events in life are worth lighting a cancer stick,” Annette said in her best Southern drawl. A single tear streaked down her cheek.

“I don’t much like spending the day with my father’s side of the family, either,” Shannon said as she got a diet soda out of the fridge. “Loud group of motherfucking perverts, but it’s only one day, and you never know…we might have fun. It’s certainly not worth crying over.”

“Don’t swear, dear. I hate it when you swear. It’s not ladylike.”

Shannon sat down next to the monster and realized the woman hadn’t showered or put on makeup, which was more than odd. It was downright blasphemous. “You look like shit.” Shannon had never seen Annette without her extra-long eyelashes, bright lipstick, and her bleached-blond hair perfectly styled. She was the kind of woman who never left the house without her face on. It took a lot of money to make a woman look that cheap. When Annette had taken up bowling, she bought only the finest equipment. Same went for cross-country skiing. Shannon’s father would get all bent out of shape about the bill and the fact that his wife would neither stay with the activities nor be any good at them. Annette would tilt her head, bat her lashes, and say in the sweetest Southern accent she could muster, “Honey bear, it doesn’t matter if I’m any good. All that matters is if I look good doing it.”

Shannon watched her stepmother take a long drag off her cigarette. It was weird to watch her smoke. Almost as if she’d woken up in an alternate universe.

“Have you ever noticed that your father always forgets to turn off the light at the end of the dock?” Annette pointed toward the lakefront.

Shannon forced her gaze to the forty-foot Tartan moored in front of the house, the words Blew by You displayed proudly on the stern. “He wants everyone to think he’s so clever with the name of his boat.”

“You’re probably right,” Annette said. “Sugar, there’s a bottle of vodka above the microwave. Would you be a doll and get it for me?”

“Since when do you drink in the morning?”

Annette could knock them back with the best of them, but where her father always lived by the rule that it was five o’clock somewhere, Annette preferred the five o’clock in whatever time zone she was in and never broke it.

Never.

Shannon did as instructed. When she first met the stepmonster, she’d thought that what Annette wanted, Annette got. However, the more she got to know the woman, she realized hatt she wasn’t as shallow as Shannon had first thought. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Tragedy will do that to some people.”

Shannon placed the bottle in front of Annette and then asked, “What kind of tragedy?”

“Death.”

“Who died?” Shannon asked. Her heart filled with a combination of sorrow…

And excitement.

She held her breath.

“Your father.”

Shannon paused. Her mouth dropped open as if to scream. Her stomach bottomed out. She breathed in deeply. Held it. Then exhaled. This couldn’t be happening, could it?

“Yeah, right. That man will outlive us all. He’s already proven that after having two heart attacks before he hit forty-five.” She reached for the bottle of vodka, poured some into her soda, and then gulped. “Seriously, who died?”

Annette poured a hefty amount of alcohol into her coffee “Your father. He’s dead. Really dead.” Her body shook. She downed the coffee and then looked directly into Shannon’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” Annette lowered her gaze. “And not just that he’s dead, but for, well…I’m just sorry.”

Shannon burst out laughing. She knew it wasn’t funny. And she did feel bad. Sort of. Well, she felt bad in a weird way. For Annette.

“This is not funny. None of it is funny. I loved him. Even when I found...even when I didn’t want to know about it all. I still loved him.”

Shannon couldn’t