The Scarlet Thread

The Scarlet Thread Read Free

Book: The Scarlet Thread Read Free
Author: Francine Rivers
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right.
    She knew her father had hoped things would cool off if he
    gave the relationship time to develop cracks. He hadn’t
    known Alex then, nor did he see the determination and drive
    that burned in him. Alex graduated with honors from high
    school and entered the local junior college. Sierra had wanted
    to quit school and marry him, thinking it would be romantic to
    work and help put him through college. He squashed that
    idea. He told her in no uncertain terms that he intended to finish college on his own, and he sure didn’t want a dropout for a
    wife. He completed two years of work at Santa Rosa Junior
    College in a year and a half and transferred to the University
    of California, Berkeley, where he majored in business, with an
    emphasis in computer technology. She finished high school
    and entered a local business college, counting the days to his
    graduation.
    As soon as Alex returned to Healdsburg, he found a job with
    Hewlett-Packard in Santa Rosa, bought a used car, and rented a
    small bungalow in Windsor.
    When they couldn’t get their parents to agree on the kind of
    wedding they should have, they eloped to Reno. Nobody was
    very happy about it.
    They had been married ten years. Ten wonderful years. All
    that time she’d thought Alex was as happy as she was. She never
    suspected what was going on beneath the surface. Why hadn’t
    she realized? Why hadn’t he told her straight out that he was
    dissatisfied?
    Sierra pulled her Honda into the driveway of the Mathesen
    Street Victorian and prayed her mother was home. Mom had
    always been able to reason with Daddy. Maybe she could help
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    Sierra figure out how to reason Alex out of his plans for their
    future.
    Unlocking the front door, Sierra entered the polished wood
    foyer. “Mom?” She closed the door behind her and walked back
    along the corridor toward the kitchen. She almost called for her
    father before she caught herself.
    With a sharp pang, she remembered the call she and Alex had
    received at three in the morning two years ago. She had never
    heard her mother’s voice sound that way before. Or since.
    “Your father’s had a heart attack, honey. The ambulance is here.”
    They had met her at the Healdsburg General Hospital, but it
    was already too late.
    “He complained of indigestion this morning,” her mother had
    said, distracted, in shock. “And his shoulder was aching.”
    Now, Sierra paused at his office door and looked in, half
    expecting to see him sitting at his desk reading the real estate
    section of the newspaper. She still missed him. Oddly, so did
    Alex. He and her father had become close after Clanton and
    Carolyn were born—amazing the way grandchildren seemed
    to break down walls between people. Prior to her pregnancy,
    she and Alex had seen little of her parents. Her father always
    found some excuse to turn down dinner invitations; Alex’s
    parents were no better.
    All that changed when she went into labor. Everyone was at
    Kaiser Hospital the night she gave birth. Alex had kissed her and
    said maybe they should name their son Makepeace. They had
    settled on Clanton Luís Madrid, forging both families together.
    By the time Carolyn María arrived a year later, the Clantons and
    the Madrids had had plenty of opportunity to get to know one
    another and find out they had a lot more in common than they
    ever thought possible.
    “Mom?” Sierra called again, not finding her in the kitchen.
    She looked out the window into the backyard garden, where her
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    mother often worked. She wasn’t there either. The Buick Regal
    was in the driveway, so she knew her mother wasn’t off on one of
    her many charity projects or at the church.
    Sierra went back along the corridor and up the stairs. “Mom?”
    Maybe she was taking a nap. She peered into the master bedroom. A bright granny-square afghan was folded neatly on the
    end of the bed. “Mom?”
    “I’m in the attic, honey.

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