Dawn's Prelude Read Online Free Page B

Evie’s thoughts. “If she were to be murdered, then everyone would suspect our family. It would have to look like an accident.”
    “Or a suicide,” Marston suggested.
    Evie cringed at the word. She was immediately taken back in time to when she was four years old. It was Christmas Day, and gifts had already been exchanged. Evie had received a pretty new doll and a handmade wicker perambulator. She loved her holiday dress and especially her kid-leather button-top shoes.
    The morning had been a happy one, she recalled. Father had not raised his voice or his hand to any of them. Even Jeannette, who generally had a whining, weepy temperament, seemed content.
    Still, that day became the worst in Evie’s life. She had been a fearless child, often making her way in secret to the attic, where she would search through long-forgotten trunks and crates to see what treasures they might hold. On that Christmas morning, she remembered a particularly lovely hatbox that contained doll clothes and thought they might work well for her new baby.
    The attic and its dark shadows had never frightened her. Here was the only quiet and peaceful room in the entire house. Here, Evie could sit and play and dream.
    But that day there was to be no peace in her lovely hideaway— or ever again, for that matter. She had heard her mama’s footsteps on the attic floor and hid away to avoid being chastised. Mama went to the small door that led outside to a railed walk. Evie had heard her call it a widow’s walk. It was a wondrous place at the top of their mansion, where her mother could pace away her frustrations.
    Evie watched her there on more than one occasion. Mama would walk and cry softly into a lace-edged handkerchief. Always, Evie wanted to go to her, but she never did. Even at her young age, Evie knew her mother would have been embarrassed that Evie knew of her misery and shame. But for Evie, it was a special kind of bond that knit them together in a way she knew none of the other children shared. Not only was she the one child who favored their mother’s features instead of their father’s, but Evie was also the one whose soul was intricately tied to Mother because of this secret.
    Moving to a place in the attic where she could watch her mother out of a decorative oval window, Evie longed to go to her— to comfort her. It was cold outside, much too cold to be walking without a coat, yet her mother didn’t have so much as a wrap.
    How strange it seemed. Mama stopped pacing and stood at the rail doing nothing. She seemed to stare out across the landscape as if contemplating the future. Evie heard a disturbance behind her and ducked down just before her father entered the attic. He walked with determined steps to the widow’s walk door and stepped outside to join his wife. Again Evie was drawn to the window, wondering if they would fight, as they so often did. To her surprise, however, Father embraced Mama. The sight caused Evie to feel a surge of hope. Maybe her mother would learn to smile again and be happy.
    Evie gripped the windowsill and watched with a sense of anticipation as her father lifted her mother in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Then without warning, Father stepped to the far edge of the walkway and without so much as a word, threw her mama over the rail.
    Evie’s eyes widened and she barely suppressed a cry as her father hurriedly bound back into the attic and headed downstairs. Stunned, Evie sat for several moments, unable to move. Had she really just witnessed her father kill her mother?
    But maybe Mama hadn’t died from the fall. Maybe it was just done in jest. Evie bit her lower lip and summoned up her courage. Just then, she heard someone scream and knew her fears were realized. She raced from the attic and back to her second-floor bedroom, where she hurriedly climbed into bed and burrowed deep within the sanctuary of the covers.
    What if Father found out that she’d seen him? Would he throw her from the