Morrigan Jonathan King (e reading malayalam books TXT) 📖

“Here,” Mac said, adding a foul-looking concoction in a tall glass to the tray loaded with two plates of baked salmon and mashed potatoes. “Guaranteed to cure any hangover. Tested on people who actually have hangovers.”

“Thanks,” Abel said, and carried the meal to the bedroom.

Inside, his mother was sitting up in bed, dressed in Brigid’s bathrobe, moaning in agony and pressing her temples to her forehead. “This is why I don’t drink.”

“I’ve found extreme blood loss reduces the chance of a hangover in the morning,” said Abel, setting the tray on her bed.

Dorothy’s eyes flew open. “Did you … are you all right?”

“I’m better now. It’s a long story.” Abel handed her the glass. “Drink up.”

She made a face. “Do I have to?”

“Did I have to take all that cough syrup you fed me when I was sick?” Abel asked.

“Touché.” Dorothy eyed the glass, braced herself, and downed the contents in one long gulp. She stuck out her tongue and shivered in disgust, but then her body and face relaxed as the pain eased.

“Better?” Abel asked.

“Much.” Dorothy took one of the plates and dug in. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. It’s been a long time since I ate.” She laughed. “I must have been drunk this morning. One minute I was sitting by a tree, and the next thing I knew, I was in this house. I actually thought I was in the tree. How crazy is that?”

“Pretty crazy, but not as much as you’d think.” Abel peered at her. “How did you end up like this, Mom?”

Dorothy shrugged. “A reaction against your father, I guess. I couldn’t stand him or his rules any longer. The man has a knack for driving people away.”

“Tell me about it,” Abel muttered.

“So when you left, I finally realized I could do something about it. I could leave. And I did.” She beamed at him. “And I found you. My darling boy. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Of course I’d come back to see you. You’re my mom. And I have to take care of you. Maybe tomorrow we can get you to Granddad and Nana’s house.”

Dorothy froze mid-chew. “No. No way. I can’t go to them.”

“Why not?” Abel asked. “You need someone to look after you.”

“I can’t face them now. I mean, look at me, running away from my husband, drunk after one night on my own.”

“You know them,” said Abel. “You know they’d understand.”

But Dorothy shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too embarrassing. I’d die of shame.”

“Okay,” Abel said with a shrug. “I guess you could always stay here.”

Dorothy put a hand on his arm. “At least that way I’ll be close to you.” She gave a wry smile. “Not sure how your friends will feel about it, though.”

Abel nodded. Brigid and Mac would probably be fine with letting her stay, but he was pretty sure Morrigan still didn’t trust his mom. Besides, it was bad enough being trapped here himself. He couldn’t ask his mom to give up any life outside Angel Oak.

“Look at us,” he said. “Running away from our problems, with nowhere to go.”

“We could find somewhere else to go,” Dorothy suggested. “Just you and me.”

Yeah, and I could get killed out in the open, and then you’d be all alone and worse off than ever. Abel sighed. “No. We’ve been running too long. We have to go back.”

Dorothy drew back. “Back? To him? You’re not serious.”

“We can’t keep hiding forever,” said Abel. “Some things you have to face.” Like my untimely death. “Dad’s seen how serious we are. He’ll listen to us now if we go back.”

“No he won’t. You know the man. He’ll bluster on about respect in his own house and how a good Christian family should act, and we’ll be trapped all over again.”

“This time will be different. And if it isn’t … well, we’ll deal with that when it comes.”

“Going back, though,” said Dorothy. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“It’s the best thing for you,” Abel said. “That’s all that matters.”

Dorothy nodded. “What will your friends think?”

“We’re not going to tell them,” said Abel. “They think it’s too dangerous. They’d never let us leave.”

“Too dangerous?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Abel assured her. “But if they ask, you want to stay here for a while so you can get back on your feet. Then, once everyone’s asleep, we’re leaving.”

“Together?” Dorothy asked.

Abel took her hand. “Together.”

Wednesday, October 30

8:56 PM

Hey, God. It’s me, Abel.

I failed my mom.

When I left, I was so focused on myself, on how the Reverend was making me feel and how I needed to break free and why I couldn’t stand him one minute longer. At most, I thought about how me leaving would affect him, how it would make him angry or make him see reason or tear him apart.

I never realized how it would affect Mom. I never thought about how much she needs me.

But I left, and she fell apart. Did she cry out to you, ask you why you took her baby boy from her? Did she blame Dad for driving me away and then run out into the night like I did? How did she even get all the way down here? And when she did, was she too ashamed to face her own parents? How much pain did she feel that she felt the need to go to alcohol to numb it?

That’s my fault. And that’s what I’m about to put right.

There’s a chance this could be the death of me, if Morrigan knows what she’s talking about—and she usually does. But please, let me live at least long enough to bring Mom home. Let them reconcile. And then … Thy will be done, I guess.

But I’d really rather not die. You know, if you’re taking requests.

Thanks, God. Abel out.

25

Abel lay in his bed, straining his ears for the slightest sound of activity. When he was sure no one was still up, he slipped out from beneath the covers,