Abiding Peace Read Online Free PDF Page B

you keep food here, too. Here, where there’s no kids snooping around. That’s why I came here and not there. I thought I had a better chance to get somewhat to eat without anyone seeing me.”
    Christine shivered, though the evening breeze was warm. “Did you steal our loaf of bread yesterday?”
    He smiled, and she could see his white teeth grinning ghoulishly in the fading light. “Aye, and good bread it were. I know you ladies can cook, that I do. I says to myself, ‘This ‘ere loaf will last a long time.’ But it was so tasty, and I was like to starve. I ate it all yesterday, that I did.”
    “I can’t steal from Goody Deane. She’s a poor woman and she doesn’t have much.”
    “She’s got more than me.” His lips drew back in a snarl, and he moved the knife. “Bring me some vittles, woman. You hear?”
    Christine gulped for air. Would she ever be able to draw a full breath again? Her lungs felt as though a giant squeezed them. “I’ll try.”
    “See that you do. And don’t you tell the old crone.” He laid a hand on her arm, heavy and warm through her sleeve.
    Christine yanked away, and he chuckled.
    “Think about it, now. If you tell that old woman—or anyone else—I’ll see that you regret it.”
    “I’m not afraid of you.” She threw back her shoulders, hoping he hadn’t caught the tremor in her voice.
    “Oh, you’re not? Well then, I’ll have to see that you are. You need to respect me because I will act if you don’t do as I say.”
    “What will you do?” She meant it to come out strong and sneering, but her dread was all too apparent in the low, shaky words.
    He smiled again and held the knife up, trying the edge of its four-inch blade with his thumb. “Those pretty little girls what live yonder …” He jerked his head toward the Reverend Jewett’s home. “I’ll make one of them not so pretty. Y’hear?”
    She jumped at his growl and stepped back. “Y–yes. I’ll bring you something.”
    “That’s a good lass. Bring me some of that cake I smelt cooking earlier.”
    “I don’t know about any cake. I’ve been gone all day.”
    “Oh, I know, I know. But there was cake, and she won’t have eaten it all.”
    A shiver snaked down Christine’s spine. How close had he ventured to where Goody Deane worked? Just beneath the window? And for how many days had he spied on them? She had no doubt that he would make good his threats if she did not do as he asked.
    “Where shall I bring it?”
    “Christine?” The widow’s quavering voice floated through the window and across the sultry air. “Is that you, Christine Hardin?”
    “Answer,” the man hissed.
    “I’m coming.”
    “When she’s abed, you come,” he said. “Take it out back, near the necessary. I’ll be waiting.” He faded into the twilight.
    Christine hurried to where she had left the bucket of water. She hefted it and bunched up a handful of her skirt, lifting the hem a couple of inches. She hobbled into the house as quickly as she could without spilling more water.
    Goody Deane stood just inside the door, holding the poker in her hand.
    “What kept you, child? I thought I heard a man’s voice.”
    “Oh, a man did greet me in passing.” Christine turned away from her and hid her face while she poured water into the teakettle. She drew the muslin curtains, wondering if the stranger was watching and listening. She wished she dared put up the shutters, but Goody Deane would complain about the heat.
    “What man?”
    Christine froze for an instant. She couldn’t lie. But what could she say? She made her hands resume their labor. “Oh, it was … just a man passing by.”
    “Did he want to call?”
    “Oh, no, no, nothing like that.” How awful if Goody Deane had the mistaken impression that Christine had a suitor and tried to hide it from her. “Trust me, dear lady, I shall tell you if we have gentleman callers.”
    Goody Deane smiled. “You never know. Now, what will it be? I baked a little honey