Free The Angry Woman Suite by Lee Fullbright Page B

knew it was coming. I prayed for it not to come and then I prayed for it to hurry and come, and then I promised myself that the next day I’d make myself get up and out with the dawn like Earl always did.
    She wore gloves and smelled of lilacs, which meant she was ready for town. “Jamie,” she sobbed, agitation growing. “Why, Jamie?”
    The first blow landed on my ear.
    “Where it won’t show,” she hissed, mean now. Then another and another after that to the top of my head. I knew better than to cry out, for sooner or later crying made things worse. And then Lothian said to me what she always said when she was finished: “You know why.”
    I always cried afterwards. I cried a great deal. Not because it hurt so much, although it did. But because Lothian was wrong. I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t know why she wanted to hurt me, or why she hated me—why anybody hated me. I was just a kid. A little kid. And there was no one to ask. Not my mother, she was too busy. And not Grandmother because she’d say I was looking to start a scene. And forget Earl. Earl lived for me getting shot down instead of him. And if Stella had ever found out what Lothian did to me, there’d be no end to the shrieking. Besides, if I’d told on Lothian, I’d still have gotten the devil, probably even more so. Ha, no probably about it. Worse, Grandmother would’ve sent Stella packing to that Portsmith asylum she was always threatening her with. Andif Stellahad ever really gotten herself locked up in the loony bin, then Mother would’ve wanted to beat Lothian to a pulp because she’d be so mad about Stella getting sent away. But then Mother would’ve had to win her match against Lothian in the very first round, and that was the next problem: Mother had never won anything against Lothian without Stella running interference for her.
    I hated Stella for being so pivotal. But you can see why I couldn’t tell anyone about Lothian hitting and biting me and calling me Jamie. Possibly, the better reason for not telling is I just didn’t want to burden Stella. Yes, I did love Stella—just like I’d love all the women once they were fixed. Do you see? Despite the hurt done to me, I was a very thoughtful boy. A loving boy. A boy on whom everyone and everything depended. The women just didn’t give me enough credit.

AIDAN
Pennsylvania 1933
    It had been nearly five years since I’d last spoken with Magdalene Grayson. For that matter, since I’d even seen her. Five years, an eternity. Amazing, considering our proximity, because we lived a mere mile apart. But I’d worked hard at our “estrangement,” making short shrift of the communiqués between us, glancing over my shoulder whenever I was in town, keeping an eye out for her just in case.
    I saw the boy first, his profile, and my heart thudded. Unbelievable—the spitting image of Jamie. I adjusted my spectacles and ducked inside the nearest shop to catch my breath. But then I felt compelled to take another look and one at Magdalene as well. After all, it wasn’t as if a hard reason existed for not exchanging civil greetings. Our relationship wasn’t one of open warfare. We did correspond, if infrequently, and this was a day I had dreamed of, a meeting I’d played out in my mind a hundred times, projecting everything right down to the most minute detail: what I’d say to Magdalene, her obvious pleasure at seeing me, the brief repartee we’d share, and then finally the regret in her eyes.
    A regret lighted by a flash of belated recognition that I was the one she’d always wanted.
    Only now, here was the boy. Here was Jamie’s twin.
    Oh, it was foolish—but I’d always been foolish when it came to Magdalene Grayson. Which was why I dreaded those missives of hers and the responses required of me.
    My eyes watered, making Magdalene and the boy only a smear, and my consciousness slipped through a new crack in its casing, moving tentatively back in time, until I saw myself with