Page 9 of The Banned Books Club
“Good. I’ve made your favorite meal.”
He seemed slightly perplexed again; no doubt he knew he’d been awful to her of late and didn’t deserve special treatment. “Shepherd’s pie?”
She’d also made a pot roast. He liked both. Had he said pot roast, she would’ve served it to him and saved the shepherd’s pie for tomorrow. The past two days she’d been doubling up on the cooking and planned to freeze the extra. She was trying to get ahead so she could spend some time with her family, especially her mother, before she had to escape and eke out a new life. “Yep.”
“Sounds good.” He sat at the head of the table and read the news on his phone while she got the kids in their seats and the food on the table.
“How was work today?” she asked as she took his plate and dished up a generous portion of shepherd’s pie—originally her mother’s recipe.
Sheldon barely glanced up from his phone. “It was okay.”
“Anything happen?”
Irritated that she continued to interrupt him, he scowled. “Was somethingsupposedto happen?”
She’d been looking for an opportunity to tell him Gia was in town, but he’d only complain about the gas money she’d spent driving to Sioux City, so she wasn’t planning to volunteer that she’d been involved unless he specifically asked. Let him think their father had picked her up—or that she’d taken an Uber. “No,” she said, backpedaling. “I was just...asking about your day.”
“I got to go to Nathan’s!” Matthew piped up, eager to talk even if his father wasn’t.
Not to be outdone, Greydon joined in, “And I got to go to Jimmy’s!”
“Great. I’m happy for both of you.” Sheldon pointed at their plates. “Now quit playing with your food and eat.”
Matthew scowled at the small mound of pie Margot had dished up for him. “I don’t like this.”
“It’s good for you.” Sheldon shoveled another huge bite into his own mouth. “Eat it.”
Their oldest son slumped in his seat. “I hate green beans!”
The look that entered Sheldon’s eyes caused the hair on the back of Margot’s neck to stand on end. So far, he hadn’t treated the boys too badly. Although he was stern and demanded to be obeyed, he reserved the worst of his temper for her.
But as Matthew got older and tried to establish his own will, she could see that changing. It was one of the things that gave her sufficient motivation to leave, despite the sacrifices she’d have to make. Sheldon refused to be challenged by a woman or a child. If she didn’t do something to change the future, she could see Matt one day being on the receiving end of the badgering and belittling she had to endure—and that was if Sheldon didn’t break down and do worse.
“There are kids just like you starving in Africa,” he said. “Be glad you got something to eat.”
“Just eat everything around the beans,” Margot muttered, hoping to defuse the situation. But all that did was draw Sheldon’s attention to her.
“Don’t undermine my authority,” he snapped. “If I tell him to eat something, he’d better do it.”
Matthew flinched at his father’s steely tone. “What happens if I can’t?” he asked, worry filling his eyes.
“You’ll sit there until you do,” his father pronounced.
“I’lleat them for you!” Greydon, who looked almost like a clone of his older brother with thick dark hair and big brown eyes, demonstrated how much he liked them by picking one out of his mashed potatoes and stuffing it into his mouth.
Sheldon arched an eyebrow at Greydon. “Matthew will eat his own.”
What Sheldon was demanding wasn’t exactly Machiavellian. There were worse punishments than sitting at a table until you’d consumed four green beans. Knowing it was best to support her husband when she could, Margot nodded. “Your father’s right, Matt. It can’t be that hard to choke down a few beans.”
“If I throw up, it’s not my fault,” he grumbled.
Margot hoped that wouldn’t happen. Sheldon would interpret it as a voluntary act—a refusal to obey—and punish him by taking away something he loved, like saying he couldn’t play baseball this year. She and the boys wouldn’t be around long enough for baseball season, but Matt didn’t know that, so it would definitely upset him.
Hoping to give her son a chance to come to terms with eating all his dinner, she reached over and smoothed the hair out of his eyes while changing the subject. “I was thinking we’d have pot roast tomorrow. Does that sound good? Everyone likes pot roast.”
Her husband was once again focused on his phone and didn’t seem to hear her. At least, he didn’t respond—but then he jerked his head up and pinned her to her seat with a baleful glare. “Did you know your sister’s in town?”
Margot lowered her eyes to her plate as though intent on taking her next bite. “She let me know she was coming. Who told you she was already here?”
