Free Sons of Thunder by Susan May Warren Page A

death in your old sweater…”
    “It was my mother’s sweater.”
    “It’s ragged. It makes you look like a—a village girl.”
    “I am a village girl. I’m not one of your fancy shebas—”
    “How do you know that word?”
    “I know a lot of things, Markos. Like that woman you’re always with. She’s a—a—floozy. They call her a charity girl.”
    He hated the swirl of anger, how he wanted to yank her words from her mouth. “Hedy’s not a charity girl. She’s a singer. And Uncle Jimmy’s girlfriend.”
    “Not only Uncle Jimmy’s.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I think you know.” She stood up. “Is that what you want, Markos? A flapper? Someone who runs around with her knees naked, swinging pearls, her hair so short it looks like a man’s?”
    He just stared at her, trying to get a fix on her words.
    She shook her head, her jaw tight. “This was a mistake. Thank you for the gift, but I don’t want it. Give it to—Hedy Brooks.”
    “It’s not for Hedy Brooks! She has plenty of fancy things.”
    “That’s right, she does. She shouldn’t have you too!”
    “She doesn’t.” He stood, touched her shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about the fact that you’re in love with her.” She’d let her voice drop low, trembling, but she could have been shouting at the top of her lungs for the way it hit him.
    He stepped back, staring at her, the shimmer of anger in her blue eyes, her dark hair long and over her face. She breathed in hard, as if waiting for his response.
    He had no words, only a roaring in his head.
    She slid away from him. “I shouldn’t have waited for you. I don’t know what I was thinking—Maybe—Just, good night, Markos.”
    He grabbed her arm. “It’s not true, Sofia. I’m just her driver.”
    She seemed thinner than he’d remembered. In fact, standing next to her—closer than he’d been, really, in weeks, she seemed almost fragile. “Let me go, Markos.” She pried his fingers away.
    “No—I told you, I’m not leaving you. I mean that.”
    “The Markos I know already left.”
    “I don’t understand you! What are you saying?” Now his voice hissed, and he heard in it something unfamiliar, something even dark.
    “Nothing—I just wish—I miss the Markos I knew.”
    The Markos she knew? “I haven’t changed. I’m just trying to make a life for us.”
    “You’re not the same. Ever since you started working for Hedy. Something inside you feels…different. Dark. It’s in your eyes. You don’t look at me the way you used to. And now, you…you smell like… her .” She curled her nose up. “Perfume and cigarette smoke, and…hooch.”
    Another word. He wasn’t sure he liked any of them coming from Sofia’s pretty lips. “It’s my job, Sofia. I have to carry Hedy’s coat, drive her around, keep her safe.” He stalked back over to the table. “At least I’m not going to movies every day and stealing from apple carts.”
    She drew in a quick breath.
    He tightened his jaw, picked up the box. Turned. She had her arms wrapped around herself, tiny and stiff in the blade of streetlight. “Is that what you think I’m doing every day?”
    He stood there, the box between them, hating himself for the words boiling inside, for wanting to splash them on Sofia. Why was he the only one who had to hurt? “I don’t know what you’re doing. But I know youseem to prefer Dino’s company to mine.” He winced at how petulant the words sounded and shoved the box at her.
    Her eyes darkened. “Dino and I’ve been attending classes. English classes at the Greek Orthodox Church. He wants to go to school. Make something of himself. He’s even been working for Mr. Kazalos at his apple stand.”
    Oh.
    She took the box, set it on the counter, ran her hand over the lid. “I know you’re trying to take care of us, Markos, but I’m afraid I’m losing you. Every day you sink into a place I can’t see. I’m screaming, but you