Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

close to shouting, she schooled her tone to reflect the calm temperament required. “I know how frustrated you are, but you aren’t solving anything by snapping your poor wife’s head off.”
    Mr. Stevenson grew quiet. He scratched at his whiskered jaw, his mouth pulled into a frown. The room was silent apart from the muted and watery sniffles of his wife, and his expression turned contrite.
    “I’m s…sorry, Shirley.”
    “I know you didn’t mean to shout, George.” Shirley Stevenson murmured, cautiously stepping around Meghan and placing a comforting hand on his chest. “In over forty years, you haven’t raised your voice to me once.”
    “I s…swore I never would and I kept it.” Tears filled his eyes. “I can’t imagine what’s come over me…”
    “The aneurysm, I suppose,” his wife soothed. She dropped to her knees, picking up the spilled china figurines with one hand. The other, gnarled and twisted with age and arthritis, she kept on her husband’s calf. She paused and placed each of the delicate dolls on the tabletop, her expression sorrowful.
    “Mr. Stevenson,” Meghan managed, biting back her own tears. She couldn’t afford to have her client think she was less than capable of managing the situation, or incapable of teaching him how to cope. As a therapist with a nonprofit rehabilitation group offering training, education, and support to the visually impaired of Bentham, New Jersey, she had a job to do. “Your wife is right, Mr. Stevenson. The aneurysm, possibly, changed your general behavior….”
    “It changed me, as a man,” he grumbled, the words somewhat slurred. “I learned things I took for granted, all over again. It’s m…mighty damn frustrating to be half the man I used to be, relying on Shirley here to remind me I’m drooling like a s…stupid fool, or only combed half my hair. I ain’t used to none of this!”
    “I know you aren’t, Mr. Stevenson,” she soothed. “That’s why I’m here, and I intend to help. Losing your sight is adding to your frustration and, like I said, I empathize.”
    “Miss Stanley, I s…still don’t think you do.” He protested. Finding his wife’s hand, he pulled her to her feet. Desperately, he clutched at the limb, pulling it to his lips. After placing a gentle kiss on the papery flesh, he pressed their clasped hands to his heart. “I’ve worked all my life, since I turned thirteen, to provide for me and my family. I never asked for a handout and I’ve never been helpless.”
    “You’re not.” Meghan contradicted kindly. “Of course, it seems like that at first…”
    “I am, damn it!” He shouted before lowering his voice. “I don’t know how…”
    Meghan snorted. “You keep arguing with me, but you’re not helpless.”
    “How you gonna tell me otherwise?” He grunted stubbornly. “I can’t s…see a damn thing and c…can’t even walk around my own house.”
    “George, I don’t mind…”
    “That’s not the point, Shirley,” he muttered curtly. “I promised, when we married, to take c…care of you. Hell, I c…can’t do much now.”
    Wistfully, Meghan eavesdropped to the gentle and affectionate words flowing from him. His love for his wife was obvious, and she envied them. Secretly, she wished she’d found a love similar to the one they shared, enduring, and everlasting, but she hadn’t had any luck.
    George Stevenson was right though, she mused. Sometimes, despite how good of a person was, life kicked them in the ass.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson,” she interrupted, detecting Shirley’s breathy little sobs. “We need to sit and talk.”
    “Great,” George snorted again and felt for his well-worn easy chair. Huffing, he plopped into the seat, the vinyl protesting loudly. “I c...can s...still find my TV chair and run my mouth like the next man. I might as well throw the recliner on the porch, though, s…seeing as I’m not going to be watching the games anymore.”
    Meghan shook her head, her long