A Thousand Yesteryears Read Online Free PDF

it wide, a light breeze beading goose bumps down her arm. Feeling for the shutter, she pushed it in place, uncertain if the effort would secure it temporarily. It would have to do for the night. Tomorrow, she’d add it to the list of items she intended to broach with Caden. At least whoever had vandalized the house hadn’t returned for a second round.
    As she closed the window and stepped back from the curtains, her gaze was drawn by movement in the rear yard where her aunt’s property ceded to a tree line. If not for the bright wash of moonlight, she might have missed it entirely. A shadow broke from the others, then flowed into the trees. A shadow that had been standing, watching the house. One that had likely seen her in the window.
    Eve swallowed hard.
    A shadow shaped like a man.
     
     

Chapter 2
     
    It was hard sleeping after the disturbance. She tossed restlessly for the remainder of the night, dreaming of Aunt Rosie and Maggie when she was fortunate enough to drift off for brief periods. She had the strange sensation both wanted to tell her something, but each time they faded like mist.
    When Caden arrived shortly after eight, she was on her third cup of coffee and jittery from a caffeine high. One cup was usually her limit before switching to decaf, a regime she should have stuck with that morning.
    The man who stood on her doorstep looked nothing like the lanky eighteen-year-old she remembered. That Caden had been brash and daring to her twelve-year-old eyes. A free spirit who played guitar and took risks, like drag racing at the TNT or climbing the trestles of the K&M Railway Bridge. He and his friends had once seemed like demi-gods, hanging at the theater, smoking, doing all the things the cool kids did. In her schoolgirl mind, she’d envisioned him part knight, part gypsy pirate.
    “Eve?” He smiled hesitantly, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. His hair was the same coal black as Ryan’s, but thick and straighter with a loose scatter of bangs. Every bit as tall as she remembered, he towered over her by a good six inches, his body lean and toned like a track athlete. “You look different.” He offered his hand.
    “So do you.” Different but good. Good enough to be distracting. She shook his hand and invited him inside, feeling a bit like a twelve-year old girl crushing on a boy out of her league. “I guess Ryan told you about the vandalism.”
    “I knew about it—the whole town did—but I haven’t been inside.” He carried a metal case the size of a clipboard, the kind she’d often seen tradesmen use. He placed a piece of paper on top, then slid a pen from the back pocket of his jeans. “Do you want to point things out, or do you want me to do a walk through and give you an idea of what I think should be done?”
    Straight to business, no small talk. That was interesting. “A walk-through sounds fine. Would you like some coffee?”
    “No, thanks. I’ll start upstairs if that’s okay with you.”
    She watched him disappear up the steps, surprised by his reserve. Such a change from the boy who’d frequently teased Maggie and indulged his little sister. In school he’d talked about moving to LA, trying to make a go of it with his music. She’d heard him sing solo several times, usually at church, but once at a festival the summer before the bridge collapsed. It was amazing how she still measured time in Point Pleasant as before the bridge fell and after. It was simply the way of things.
    In the summer of ’67, Caden and a few friends had put together a makeshift band for a short performance at the fairgrounds. If she hadn’t already had a horrible crush on him, hearing him sing to an audience would have been enough to seal her fate. She was certain every teen and preteen girl within hearing distance had fallen instantly in love with him. She’d gone home that night dreaming of a future where he moved away and became famous, then returned to Point Pleasant after she’d graduated