At Fear's Altar Read Online Free PDF Page B

surprised to find her father awake and in the kitchen, too pleasantly surprised in fact.
    Colin informed her that he was going to watch TV for a while. She said that sounded like a good idea.
    The flickering images were an incoherent jumble, but Colin endured them until Paula called supper. The clam chowder she’d prepared was tasty, but Colin found his appetite was still lacking. It was an irksome meal that consisted of all four people doing their best not to look at one another. Colin was grateful when Paula broke up the party by ordering that the girls go finish packing for their morning departure.
    When Sara and Toni had left the kitchen, Paula said, “I wish I was able to stay a few more days, Dad, but the girls start back to school on Tuesday.”
    Her words were only faintly audible to Colin, who was staring raptly at the tablecloth pattern, lulled by a petit mal.
    “Dad?”
    “Hmm?”
    “Did you hear me? I said I spoke to Millie Fuerstein this afternoon.”
    “Oh, yes. Yes? Millie .   .   . from across the road.”
    “Right. She told me about what happened here last month, Dad. She told me.”
    “Last Monday?” he mumbled. Colin could again feel the words passing through his mind like lemmings plummeting off the cliff-edge of his memory. “Monday? Nothing happened on Monday .   .   . you were here .   .   . you and the girls .   .   . they have school soon .   .   . you probably have to leave .   .   . I’ll be sad to see you go.”
    “We’ll be sad too, Dad, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Do you remember what happened last month, with Millie?”
    “.   .   . Millie .   .   .”
    He watched Paula slowly close her eyes. Her lashes became dewy. “She said she saw you on the footpath. You were wandering aimlessly and screaming for Mom. Do you remember doing that, Dad?”
    “Your mother’s deceased, Paula .   .   . Don’t .   .   . don’t you speak of her that way .   .   . My Beverly is deceased .   .   . April fifth .   .   . it was a Tuesday .   .   . two years ago .   .   . pneumonia.”
    “That’s right, Dad. I know and you know. But Millie thinks you must have forgotten that day because she found you in a daze. She says you even mistook her for Mom.”
    “No!”
    “You did. You might not remember, but you did. Millie said you grabbed her by the arm, that you started to drag her down toward the marshes. Luckily her son was with her and he helped calm you down. Jesus, Dad, do you understand that you scared her half to death?”
    Colin said nothing.
    “Millie said that once you were back on the main road you were fine. It was like someone had flipped a switch. But her son practically had to drag you out of the woods first.”
    “She’s mistaken .   .   . Millie .   .   . she’s old, you know.”
    “Why didn’t you let her phone me after that happened, Dad? She and her son tried to get my number, but you wouldn’t give it to her. You also refused to let her call a doctor.”
    Colin could feel his brow furrowing and was sure that this expression gave Paula the feeling that he was deeply pondering her words. But in truth his mind was a clean slate, a still pond.
    Paula reached over and took his hand. “I think it’s time we took another look at having you move .   .   . someplace else, somewhere closer to the city and where you would be with other people.”
    Colin was proud of himself for resisting the unsavoury response that twitched inside him. Instead he slid his hand out from underneath his daughter’s and took a few seconds to choose his words.
    “I hope,” he began, “I really hope that when you get old, Paula, your children won’t be so quick to ship you off. And you will get there, believe me. You will have your bad days, days when you feel just a few degrees off from the rest of the world. When that happens, I hope your girls will have a little bit more