Free The Boarding House by Sharon Sala Page A

at home to get strangers mixed up in it.
    As she turned the corner and started down the last block to get to her house, a car full of teenagers drove past, waving and honking like crazy people. She couldn’t enjoy the attention because it reminded her of what happened the day Momma killed herself.
    Ellie broke off another piece of chocolate and popped it in her mouth, then licked her fingers to make sure nothing had been left behind. As soon as she got home, she was going to take off her old nail polish and try her new color. It was called Sunset Coral—a bit darker than the pink she’d been wearing, but not enough to look common. Sophie said good girls should never look common.
    But Ellie knew something that Sophie did not. It wouldn’t matter how properly she spoke or how particular she was about her clothing and demeanor, it was going to take more than manners to offset being Daddy’s whore.
    Whore was a new word she’d picked up at school this year. It was enlightening to Ellie. At least now she had a name to put to their relationship. Some girls pronounced the word as “ho,” but Sophie said if you had to use the terminology, you should at least use it properly.
    Ellie slipped the last piece of chocolate in her mouth and shifted her sack from her right hand to her left, then stumbled as she looked up.
    Daddy stood on the front porch waiting for her, and she could tell he was mad. She wondered if he was going to get as pissed as Momma had about the boys honking at her. She shifted her stride to accommodate haste and hoped she could get past him without a situation.
    It didn’t happen.
    The moment Ellie walked up the steps, Garrett moved in front of the door, blocking the entrance.
    “What are you doing?” Ellie asked. “I had permission to go to the drugstore.”
    “From who?” Garrett snapped.
    “It’s from whom , not who , and Sophie said I could.”
    Garrett wanted to shake her, but opted for another time and place. Today, he had other fish to fry.
    “I’m standing on the front porch of our house, in front of God and everyone so you’ll feel safe enough to talk to me, and I will be heard.”
    Ellie paused, her heart thumping so hard it was difficult to breathe. “I’m listening,” she said, and wished Wyatt or Sophie was standing beside her.
    “You’ve been calling the shots around here for months. I’ve let you get by with a lot of it because of Fern’s death, but you’re turning into a tyrant.”
    Anger surged so fast Ellie forgot they were on the front porch. “Seriously? Do you really want to go there with me?”
    Garrett knew he was taking a chance, but he pushed back.
    “I’m not going to get into a shouting match with you, and I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for what’s in the past.”
    “I didn’t expect you to,” Ellie snapped. “You never have. Why should I think you would suddenly change? Sophie says a skunk never changes its stripes.”
    Being referred to as a skunk by his own daughter was like throwing oil on a fire. Garrett was so mad he was shaking.
    “I’m here to tell you that I’m sick of having Sophie thrown in my face—and you insisting either she or Wyatt go everywhere with us. We’re never together like we used to be.”
    “There’s a reason for that,” Ellie yelled.
    Garrett looked nervously toward the street, then shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back.
    “Here’s the deal. I’m not asking for much. Just our Sundays like they used to be.”
    Ellie’s head began to whirl, trying to decipher exactly what that meant. She could remember plenty of Sundays that had been hell on earth. Especially the ones when Momma had passed out. “What do you mean?”
    “Either you agree to attend church with me  . . . just me  . . . like we used to, or I’m never taking you back there again.”
    Ellie gasped. He’d found her Achilles’ heel. She liked the church even though her Momma’s funeral had tainted it a bit. It was less