NINE
The next few days slipped into a predictable routine. Sam took the girls to their schools, Steve went to work. Every morning when she returned, he’d be there, working in the garden clearing the undergrowth. Carson. She would stand at the kitchen window and watch him, studying his muscles, the easy way he lifted an axe or worked a spade. Sometimes, she wandered out to give him a glass of water, once or twice an orange squash. As the liquid dribbled down his chin and soaked the front of his shirt, she’d lick her lips and feel the heat on her face.
On the Thursday, he came into the kitchen and she looked up from her magazine, her eyes bulged. He filled the doorway and those teeth of his seemed whiter than usual.
“All done,” he said.
Stepping outside, she smiled to see the truth of hi
