Page 621 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts
There was a long pause.
“Sydney, are you okay?”
Sydney ran her hand through her hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a shock, that’s all. When did you find out?”
“I saw it in theStar Telegramthis morning.”
“Who’s the lucky girl of the minute?”
“Alicia Thomas.”
Sydney made a face. “Her?” A picture of Alicia, her big brown eyes and wispy auburn hair, came to mind. She was the perfect picture of a model with her pretzel thin figure and pouty lips. Sydney didn’t know Alicia very well but had seen her often enough at the country club. She and Adam used to joke that she was one of those permanent fixtures in the elite social circle. Sydney had always thought she was a little too friendly with Adam. She’d mentioned it once, and he’d laughed it off saying that Alicia Thomas was too high maintenance for him.
Adam had hugged Sydney. “Besides,” he said, nuzzling her ear with his lips, “I’ve got all I need right here.”
He’d said it, and like a fool, she believed him.
“I’m sorry, Sydney,” Ginger said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, I’m glad I know. For her sake, let’s just hope that little miss Alicia can figure out how to hold onto him before some other bimbo comes along.” She knew it was a cheap shot but couldn’t help herself.
She and Ginger talked for a few more minutes, but Sydney’s mind was far away. Ginger hung up only after repeated assurances from Sydney that she was fine.
Sydney stared unseeingly out her front window. Why was she so upset about Adam? He’d called it off weeks ago. After last night’s fiasco with Kendall, maybe she should just give up on men altogether.
Deep down, she knew the real source of her anger. Adam was a shallow jerk, and she was better off without him. It really didn’t have that much to do with him, only in a broad sense. The trouble was her. She’d never been able to hold onto a relationship for very long. Maybe they could see right through her beauty, straight to her inner self, broken and battered. Sometimes her longing for a family was so poignant that she feared it would overwhelm her.
She rose from the sofa to make her a cup of mandarin orange herbal tea. She would read more of Avery’s journal. That would take her mind off Adam.
Sydney reverently tookthe diary from the desk and sat down by the window. When she discovered it in the box, she thought she would read the entire book in one sitting. That hadn’t been the case. The memories it evoked were too painful. She could only handle small doses. She thumbed through thepages, her eyes skimming over the record of Avery’s day-to-day activities, searching for the meaningful phrases. She caught one.
Tried to talk to Cindy today about Susan’s death. It’s impossible. Unfortunately, she’s just like me. She keeps everything bottled up inside. Susan was the glue that held us together. It’s all up to me now. I’ve never been much of a praying man, but I found myself on my knees last night, asking the good Lord to make me equal to the task. Cindy’s counting on me. How can I help her when I can barely even help myself?
Moisture formed in Sydney’s eyes. She stared out the window. Avery’s plea struck a chord somewhere deep within the recess of her heart. She’d always thought her dad was impenetrable granite. He seemed to take everything in stride. She’d been angry at him for not reaching out to her after her mom’s death. Maybe they’d both been trying to get through their loss the only way they knew how. She was starting to see Avery in a new light. He was strong, but also fragile and hurting. Her life was a thousand pieces of shattered glass, and here she was, sifting through the shards to find something to hold onto. How much more could she pick up without getting cut? She wiped away a tear and skipped to the end of the journal.
March 3,
I think someone tried to kill me today when I went to the log yard. Cecil Prichard was a witness.
The words leapt from the page and seared their way into her mind. It was so typical of Avery to skip the preliminaries and jump straight to the heart of the matter. She could just picture the events he described. The words came alive:
Avery’s heart warmed when he spotted Cecil on the far end of the yard, scaling logs. Cecil was one of those timeless people who never seemed to age. He’d been Avery’s boss in the log yard the summer after Avery’s high school graduation.
“Hey, Cecil. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. We’re getting further and further behind though. I have a couple of stacks of logs that ain’t been scaled yet, and there are a couple of trucks that ain’t been unloaded.”
Avery frowned. “Why hasn’t Lewis gotten you some help?”
“I don’t know. I mentioned it to him yesterday and he said he would.”
“Don’t worry, Cecil, I’ll take care of it,” Avery said, cursing Lewis’ incompetence under his breath. He walked around the yard for a few minutes then over to one of the trucks that was piled high with logs.
“Look out!”
Avery turned in time to see the logs break free from their chain. The mountain came rolling toward him. His first instinct was to run and then he saw a bulldozer parked a few feet away. He jumped behind the safety of the huge metal cup just before the logs hit, nearly knocking over the dozer.
Avery came out from under the dozer, shaking. He dusted off his clothes and went to inspect the chain.
