LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

brought set in.

      She pushed herself up, found her slippers and shoved her feet into them. Her cottage’s hardwood floors were lovely but viciously chilly this time of year. In the bathroom she stared herself down in the medicine cabinet mirror.

      Dark circles under her eyes, dark blonde hair matted to her head, sallow. ‘It was just a dream,’ she said to her reflection. Almost surprised when the woman in the mirror’s mouth moved in time with her words. That didn’t look like her. That woman looked haunted.

      ‘After all this time,’ she muttered, slightly disgusted with herself. She refused to be a victim in life. It wasn’t fair to wallow. But sometimes, more than a decade after Aaron’s death, she still felt a hollow ache that threatened to buckle her knees. Today was one of those days, and she had no doubt at all it was a surging wave of guilt for finding one stumbling lawn guy attractive. Attractive enough to make her blood jump in her veins.

      She stepped into the hot spray and did her best to push it all out of her head. There were canvases to plot and stationery orders to fill, and a day to move through – mechanically or not.

       And Jack will be coming back…

      The thought was as wispy as the steam that filled the small room. Yes, Jack was coming back. True. But Jack was coming back to do a job and nothing else. He’d asked her out, she’d said no as nicely as she could and that was that. Case closed.

      She was towelling her hair dry when the phone rang. The landline, which only meant one thing.

      ‘Good morning, Carley.’

      ‘Good morning, sunshine! What are you doing up?’

      Nosey as ever, August figured her best friend had earned the right. They’d been tighter than tight since grade school. It was Carley, above all others, who had gotten her through Aaron’s death. It was Carley who had forced her out of bed some days, brought food to her bed on the days she refused to get up, and it was Carley who had finally given her the kick in the ass to start shopping her paintings around and create her small indie stationery store online. Carley got to be nosey if she wanted to.

      ‘How did you know I was up?’

      ‘I saw light from your little window. I was on my way to pick up doughnuts for the office and shot down your street and there it was. The little glow of a little lamp. You up? Dressed? Alone?’ Carley snorted. ‘What I’m trying to say is I have an extra coffee – can I come in for a minute?’

      ‘Coffee?’

      ‘Yes, the lifeblood, August. Coffee. And if you’re up this early, with the hours I know you keep, then you must need it.’

      ‘Desperately. Use your key. I’ll be out in a moment.’

      She pulled on her favourite paint-speckled black leggings, an Om tank-top – because she sure as shit needed some Om after that dream – and a big sweater that had once upon a time been Aaron’s. A marled grey knit, soft as sin. So big on her that she swam in it, and she liked it that way.

      She was cuffing the sleeves as she wandered into the kitchen. A kitchen that blissfully smelled like coffee and doughnuts offered by a smiling face. She needed that smile as much as she needed the Om.

      ‘Uh-oh,’ Carley said, the smile caving somewhat.

      ‘What?’

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You’re wearing –’ She pointed to the sweater as she handed August a large, hot cup of coffee. August quickly took a swig even though it burned. Perfect – cream, two sugars and hot as hell.

      ‘I’m wearing…? Clothes?’

      ‘Aaron’s clothes,’ Carley said, sitting on a kitchen stool. ‘And that only happens any more on anniversaries, birthdays, severe sadness or…bad dreams. Was it a dream?’

      August bit her tongue to try and prevent the tears that wanted to come. She failed. Only a few slipped out, though, and she felt some victory at that. ‘Yeah, dream.’

      ‘Big boom dream?’ Carley said. August sighed. The only person who could get away with describing it that way was sitting across from her, her dark-brown hair twisted up into a knot, and no doubt late for work. Despite the bare-bones description, Carley’s big green eyes held a lot of empathy and worry.

      ‘Yep. The explosion. I woke up all gross but full-on awake, so I got up.’ August shrugged. ‘Took a shower then my house was inhabited by a jabbering alien lifeform known as an early riser.’ She attempted a smile.

      ‘Alien lifeform! I brought you lifeblood, girl.’ Carley pointed to the cup of coffee that August was using to warm her hands. ‘I brought you sugar, too.’ She pushed a cinnamon sugar doughnut toward her and August took a bite. But just one. Her stomach was still tight and hot from the dream.

      Carley surprised her by taking her hand. ‘What prompted this? It’s usually something specific now – after all this time.’

      August shrugged again. Nothing she wanted to talk about, but she couldn’t tell her friend that. She almost always wanted to talk to Carley even if it was about stuff that hurt. ‘No idea.’

      ‘I call bullshit,’ Carley said. She tried to be casual but August caught the glance at the clock. She was already late for work and would probably get nailed for it by her boss if she was any later.

      ‘Nope,’ August lied. ‘Not bullshit.’

      ‘I call double bullshit,’ Carley sighed.

      ‘But you have to go or Todd the dick will make your day hell for being late.’

      Carley winced. ‘True. But I don’t like leaving you like this.’

      ‘Like what? Slightly sad but otherwise OK and drinking coffee I didn’t have to make?’

      ‘Yes. Well, part of it. Look, call me later. You damn well know what triggered that nightmare and you damn well better tell me. But, sweetie, if I don’t leave now, you’ll also have to let me move in because I will have lost my only source of income. And you know how messy I am.’

      ‘Christ, yes. Go, go! I’ll call you later.’

      Carley planted a kiss on her cheek and then stared her down. ‘I’m serious. Call me later and tell me the truth this time. We’ll talk.’ She grabbed her purse and her coffee cup and was out of the door before August could deny that anything was wrong.

      Just as well. It was a lie anyway.

      Somehow she’d forgotten. She had no idea how. Probably the way she always forgot things she didn’t want to think about. Painting. The orchid had come to life, some of the oil paints built up enough that the texture stood out from the canvas. Her favourite way to experience a piece. Flat, part three-dimensional, bright colours with dark undertones. Light and shadow, sunshine and rain. Like life.

      It was the sound of a truck backing up that had August up off her stool and at the window. There he was, manoeuvring a trailer on his pick-up so that it overhung the front edge of her yard. All she could see of Jack was his profile and one big arm sticking out of the window as he reversed his vehicle to unload the mounds of what was no doubt filler dirt.

      ‘He’s here,’ she said to the roomful of paintings. The almost overwhelming urge to call Carley and spill her guts slammed through her and she chewed the inside of her lip to fend it off. No need to confess anything. There was nothing to confess.

      She refused for there to be anything to confess.

      Jack got out of the truck and scratched his forehead. He didn’t wear a ball cap today. It was much too cold for that. She’d seen the rimes of frost on the windshield of her car this morning. The fairy dusting of icy rings on the plants. First frost had come and it had been beautiful. Almost worth getting up at the crack of dawn to witness.

      The coldness meant

Скачать книгу