Betrayal - Fern Michaels [34]
Having done all that she could for the moment, Emily removed her diary from beneath the mattress. Each day she wrote about Sara and her false accusations against Uncle Alex. Someday, her words might make a difference.
Don and Debbie spent the better part of the afternoon lounging by their pool. After a second pitcher of margaritas, both dozed in the late-afternoon sun.
“Mommy!” Sara shrieked.
Debbie fumbled with the straps on her bikini top, tying them in a loose knot. “What is it now? Can’t you see your father and I are trying to relax? This is a very stressful time for us.”
Sara plopped down on the edge of her mother’s lounge chair. “Mommy, I was just feeling . . . feeling so unclean. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again. Emily makes me feel so dirty, too. She called me a liar today. She said she was ashamed to be my sister.”
Debbie inhaled, her nostrils flaring.
“You look like a cow when your nose does that,” Sara said.
Debbie placed a hand on her nose. “What am I doing?”
“Your nostrils are the size of a cow’s.”
“Sara, you’re so rude! You should be ashamed,” Debbie retorted. “Now, what would you like for dinner? I was thinking about ordering in. We can have pizza from Domino’s, or I can call that little Italian restaurant you like so much and have something cheesy and meaty delivered. It’s your choice, sweetie.”
Her mom sure knew the way to her heart, but this time food wasn’t what she was looking for. Sara really needed to talk about Uncle Alex.
“I don’t care. Whatever.”
“Sara, are you all right?” Debbie questioned.
“No. I told you Emily called me a liar. I hate her. I wish she would leave here. She thinks I’m making up this story about Uncle Alex.” Sara’s lower lip puckered. “I am not making it up, Mommy. You and Daddy believe me, don’t you?”
By that time Don was awake, listening to their conversation.
He patted a spot next to him. “Come here, sweetie.”
Sara sat next to her father. “You believe me, don’t you Daddy? I feel so bad, but it just was so terrible. He made me look at his . . . his thing. It was so ugly. It wasn’t like yours, Daddy.” Sara acted coy, almost as if she were flirting with her father.
“Sara Marie Winter! What are you saying?” Debbie zoomed upright in her chair, her eyes focused on Don and their daughter. “Please tell me that I misunderstood you.”
Sara opened her eyes wide as though she had no idea what her mother referred to. “I said that Uncle Alex’s thing wasn’t—”
“I heard you!” Debbie shouted.
“Don, do you want to explain how our twelve-year-old daughter has knowledge of... of, you know what I mean?”
“Calm down, Deb,” Don said.
“Sara, you’re making things sound very vulgar. Now tell your mother exactly what you’re talking about.”
Sara opened her eyes even wider. “I saw Daddy in the shower one time. His . . . his thing wasn’t like Uncle Alex’s, that’s all. Is that bad, Mommy?”
Debbie shot Don killer looks.
“No, it’s not, Sara, but your father should lock the door when he’s in the shower.”
“Why, Mommy?” Sara asked.
“Because he’s a grown man, that’s why. A grown man with two teen daughters living under the same roof.”
“I’m just twelve, Mommy. I won’t be a teenager for a long time.”
“Sara, you’ll be thirteen in two months. You’re closer to thirteen than twelve,” Debbie said to her daughter.
Sara began to howl like a coyote caught in a bear trap.
“Stop this nonsense, Sara! You’re driving me insane. I can’t take much more of it!” Debbie shouted. She was sure Sara’s wails could be heard all over the neighborhood.
Sara gulped and hiccuped a few more times before ending her crying jag. “I just feel so nasty, that’s all. And I don’t want to go to that stupid Dr. Chambers either. I hate her!” She sniffled a few more times.
Debbie’s heart softened. Of course Sara was frightened. “Then you don’t have to. Why didn’t you tell us you were afraid to go? We’ll find another doctor, don’t you worry. Now, what would you like for dinner?”
Don shook his head. “I don’t think food is the answer to Sara’s problem. Sara”—Don