Because of Her by Jewel E. Ann EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jewel E. Ann
- Language: English
- Genre: Later in Life Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
FRANCESCA
THERE’S nothing notable about Boone, Kansas, other than the unkempt
graveyard shrouded by cottonwoods where my brother, his wife, and their
only child now rest. They moved from Chicago to give their son a better life.
Had they known how “better” would play out, they might have been more
inclined to overlook the ninety-minute crawl to work or the occasional
vandalism.
Now, their little family of three has a one hundred percent death rate. I’m
not sure that’s the definition of a better life, especially given that all three
deaths were suicides.
A one-way street lines the tiny town square of crumbling brick buildings
still home to a few local businesses that have stood the test of time. Murals
line the alleys, a youthful touch to something old. I repeat my trip around the
weathered square five times in the June sun before taking a brave breath and
turning on my blinker to make a right down one of the more abandoned
streets in the town.
My brother John and his wife, Lynn, chose this house because they liked
the oversized lot, minimal traffic, and abundant mature trees. Never mind the
century-old homes with splintered siding, curling shingles, and crooked
shutters. Our mom took one look and whispered, “It’s horrific,” while my
brother, simultaneously, sighed contentedly and said, “It’s perfect.” He
envisioned endless possibilities, and Mom saw nothing but a never-ending
series of headaches in what our dad called “a thirty-year mortgage on a poor
decision.”
The irony? We grew up on a rundown farm in Iowa, where subsidies paid
the rent.
Who could blame John for loving the place and the nostalgia that came
with it. The house backs up to a cornfield, reminiscent of the days John and I
hid from our parents. John mapped out a maze while I foraged for supplies in
case we needed to hide out for days while our parents argued over money and
who bore more responsibility for parenting.
John and I were inseparable, not just because we were twins. We
complemented each other perfectly—my weaknesses were his strengths, and
his were mine. We always said we were accidental twins, meant to be one
person. Instead, we were two out-of-balance humans: either extremely good
at something or extremely bad. John could barely spell his name but knew Pi
to … infinity. On the other hand, I poured over every book I could get my
greedy little hands on and fell in love with Chopin long before I was old
enough to need a bra. But if you asked me if two times two equaled four, I
had to think about it for several seconds because eight seemed like a good
option too.
The gravel crunches beneath my tires while I roll to a stop. I haven’t been
here since the funeral. I’d convinced myself it was nothing more than a
nightmare. If I waited long enough, I’d wake up.
No such luck.
I knock on the warped wooden frame of the neighbor’s screen door. (She
has a key to their house.) It makes squeaky grunts while decaying boards
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