Carrie Weaver - Secrets In Texas

Matthew watched Raphael walk quickly to one of the smaller houses and let himself in. He caught a glimpse of a sallow, plain woman before the door closed.

Suddenly he was very eager to see Angel. To revel in the way her dark eyes sparkled at their verbal sparring.

But the Angel who greeted him as he walked through the door bore no resemblance to the Angel he’d left that morning. Her hair was braided tightly and wound around her head. Her expression was pinched.

“Ah, Angelina, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Welcome home, husband.” She clasped her hands together and stared at her feet. “May I get you a cold drink before supper?”

He almost told her he’d love a beer but remembered alcohol was strictly forbidden. Anything with caffeine was out of the question, too. “Uh, ginger ale would be good. Or a lemon-lime soda?”

She nodded and headed for the kitchen. She returned quickly and handed him a glass of ginger ale.

He sipped the drink, the sickly sweet flavor taking him back to his boyhood when he’d loved the stuff. Now it only reminded him of restricted choices and arbitrary rules.

“How was your day with the women?”

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