Silent Killer. Beverly Barton

you might need.”

      Cathy stared into his eyes, trying to decide just how sincere he was. She had no reason to doubt him, of course. He was probably a good man who had the best intentions, but the fact that he seemed so chummy with J.B. bothered her. It shouldn’t. After all, J.B. was an elder in the church, and it was only natural that he and the new minister would be on friendly terms.

      “That’s very kind of you,” Cathy said. “I appreciate everyone’s concern. I’m sure my father-in-law filled you in on the details of how I reacted the last time a clergyman was brutally murdered in the same fashion my husband was.” She paused to take a breath, and then continued before the preacher could respond. “I can assure you that I’m not on the verge of another nervous breakdown.”

      “I apologize if I gave you the impression that I came here because I or your in-laws question your mental health,” Brother Hovater told her, sympathy evident in his hazel eyes. “I’m here for no other reason than to be of service to you, if you need me.”

      “Thank you. But what I need right now is to be left alone to deal with my memories and my feelings. I am not an emotional cripple. And what would help me tremendously is if my mother and my in-laws could get it through their heads that I’m not crazy.” Cathy turned and ran out of the living room, knowing her actions would be misconstrued as evidence she was indeed crazy.

      She hurried into the kitchen, taking the quickest and easiest escape route out the back door and onto the side yard that separated Lorie’s house from her nearest neighbor’s. Seeking sanctuary under the sheltering weeping willow, Cathy braced her open palms against the tree trunk, tilted her chin down and closed her eyes.

      You overreacted, and you know it. You did just what Lorie told you not to do. You lost your cool. You lashed out from sheer frustration.

      What would Dr. Milton say?

      Cathy smiled.

      Give yourself permission to be human, to make mistakes. Having a hissy fit occasionally can be good for you. Don’t bottle up all your emotions.

      “Catherine!” Elaine stomped off the back porch and marched toward Cathy, a stern, disapproving expression on her face.

      Oh God, just what she didn’t need—her mother reading her the riot act.

      She lifted her head, tilted her chin up and squared her shoulders, preparing for battle. It seemed to her that most of the conversations she’d had with her mother from the time she was a little girl had been a battle of wills, battles her mother always won.

      Coming up to Cathy there beneath the willow tree, Elaine glared at her. “If you wanted to convince everyone that you’re still emotionally unstable, that little scene back there proved it. Your rudeness to Brother Hovater was uncalled for. And how dare you treat J.B. in such a disrespectful manner. I raised you better than that, or at least I thought I did. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, young lady. You should go back inside right this minute and apologize to everyone.”

      “No,” Cathy said.

      “What do you mean no?” Elaine stared at her in disbelief.

      “I regret that I was rude to Brother Hovater, and I will probably apologize to him, but not this evening. Later. Perhaps at tomorrow evening’s prayer meeting. But as for J.B.—it will be a cold day in hell before I apologize to that man ever again.”

      Elaine gasped.

      “And another thing, Mother, I don’t give a rat’s ass how disappointed you are in me. Your opinion of me no longer matters.”

      Cathy walked off, leaving her stunned mother standing alone in the side yard.

      God, she felt good!