I’d never liked Helen. I didn’t like how she looked at me, how she looked at my father. I didn’t like how she walked around our dugout, doing the things my mother should have done. And I certainly didn’t like how . . . Helen she’d tried to make everything in our lives. But now even those fake bonds between us were severed. She was no longer a Baile, if she’d ever really been one at all. She was just Helen Barrett. And I hated her. I hated her for what she’d done. Hated her for who she was. But most of all, I hated her for being the only person within a thousand miles who should have cared
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This may be perhaps the most telling moment of all for Kathryn. She was stubborn, difficult, and at times down-right awful. But all of it stemmed from a wounded soul just wanting to be loved and accepted. Anger is an easier emotion to feel than rejection.
