Free Promise Me Forever (Debbie Macomber Classics) by Debbie Macomber Page B

him?”
    Sloan went completely still, like a lion alert before the attack. “If what you say is true, it’s Dad’s own fault. He should have given everything over to Harrison the way he said he was.”
    “Are you really so uncaring?” His lack of concern shocked her.
    His blistering-hot gaze swept over her contemptuously. “What do you know of any of this?” he shouted. “Safe and warm in your secure little world, it must be easy to sit in judgment of something you’ll never comprehend.” A muscle worked convulsively along the line of his jaw.
    The desire to tell him was overpowering. “What do I know?” She repeated his question with a half-laugh. “Maybe it’s time you found out exactly what I do know.” She swam to the steps that led out of the pool. “You asked me once about pain. Believe me when I tell you I’m well acquainted with it.” She stood and placed one foot on the painted step. “You told me once you’d lain in a hospital bed wanting to die. I did more than want. I begged.”
    She turned to him then, the hideous scars that marked her thighs in full view. When she glanced at him she was prepared for the shocked look, even the repulsion he couldn’t hide. She’d viewed it before, when others saw her scars.
    “Paul,” she yelled, and hurriedly donned her terry-cloth wrap. “Mr. Whittaker wants out of the water.” Unable to bear another minute in Sloan’s presence, Joy turned and ran into the house.

Chapter Five
    “Joy,” Sloan called after her, but Joy only increased her pace.
    Paul met her halfway to the house. He stuck out a hand and stopped her. “You okay?” His finger brushed a tear from her cheek.
    “Fine,” she lied. “I’m fine.”
    Clara gave her a funny look as Joy came through the kitchen, but she didn’t stop to explain.
    Once in the privacy of her room, Joy slumped into a chair and covered her eyes with one hand. She’d been only sixteen at the time of the accident. A school cheerleader. But she would never be again. The scars were cleverly disguised with the proper clothing, so that no one need ever know. But their ugliness affected her more mentally than physically. She ran, she swam, she played tennis—could, in fact, do almost as much as she could before the accident. She had her father to thank for that, but even he couldn’t force the look of shock and revulsion from people’s eyes when they saw her misshapen thighs for the first time.
    Joy changed back into her uniform and held a cool washcloth over her eyes, hoping the cold water would take away the redness. Tears were the last thing she wanted Sloan to see. He held enough aces in his hand as it was.
    Clara was stirring something at the stove when Joy entered the kitchen. “Mr. Whittaker’s been saying lots of things he doesn’t mean lately,” she commented, her back to Joy.
    “Mr. Whittaker didn’t say anything to upset me, so don’t blame him for something he didn’t do. He’s confused enough without all of us turning on him.” It would be unfair to have the others think Sloan had caused her to cry.
    “I still think Mr. Whittaker had better take a good, long look at himself.”
    Joy pretended not to hear. “Do you mind if I take some of these leftovers to L.J.?”
    “Isn’t that bird well yet?”
    “No. It’ll be a long time before his wing heals completely.”
    “Go ahead, then.”
    “Thanks, Clara.” She took out bits and pieces of meat and fish she knew the gull wouldeat.
    Joy spent a good portion of a half-hour with L.J. He allowed her to touch him freely now—a small victory, but one that encouraged her.
    When she came back into the kitchen, Sloan’s lunch tray was ready.
    “Take it in to him while it’s hot.”
    Joy hesitated. She’d rather not see Sloan. He was sure to ask her questions she’d prefer not to answer.
    “Go on,” Clara ordered.
    The door was open, and Sloan appeared to watch her anxiously. Joy was sure a niggling uncertainty showed in her eyes.
    “Set