Carolina Moon Read Online Free PDF

poorer thanks to a cracked radiator, and ready to call an end to her travels. The replacement radiator meant she had to postpone her arrival in Florence until the following morning, and make do for a night with the dubious comfort of a motel off Route 9 outside of Chester.
    The room stank of stale smoke, and its amenities included a sliver of soap and pay movies designed to stimulatethe sexual appetites of the rent-by-the-hour clientele that kept the establishment out of bankruptcy. There were stains on the carpet, the origin of which she decided it best not to contemplate.
    She’d paid cash for one night because she didn’t like the idea of handing over her credit card to a sly-eyed clerk who smelled like the gin he cleverly disguised in a coffee mug.
    The room was as unappealing as the idea of climbing back behind the wheel for another hour, but it was there. Tory carried the single flimsy chair to the door and hooked its spindly top under the knob. She decided it was every bit as security-proof as the thin and rusted chain. Still, using both gave her the illusion of safety.
    It was a mistake, she knew, to allow herself to become so fatigued. Resistance went down. But everything had conspired against her. The potter she’d seen in Greenville had been temperamental and difficult to pin down. If he hadn’t also been brilliant, Tory would have walked out of his studio after twenty minutes instead of spending two hours praising, placating, and persuading.
    The car had taken another four hours, between getting towed, negotiating for a reconditioned radiator at the junkyard, browbeating the mechanic to do the repair on the spot.
    Add to that, she admitted it was her own stupidity that had landed her in the By the Way Inn. If she’d simply booked a room back in Greenville, or stopped at one of the perfectly respectable motor lodges on the interstate, she wouldn’t be stumbling with exhaustion around a smelly room.
    Only one night, she reminded herself, as she eyed the dingy green cover on the bed. For pocket change, it offered the questionable delights of Magic Fingers.
    She decided to pass.
    Just a few hours’ sleep, then she’d be on her way to Florence, where her grandmother would have the guest room—clean sheets, a hot bath—ready. She just had to get through the night.
    Without even taking off her shoes, she lay down on the spread and closed her eyes.
    Bodies in motion, slicked with sweat.
    Baby, yeah, baby. Give it to me. Harder!
    A woman weeping, pain rolling through her hot as lava.
    Oh God, God, what am I going to do? Where can I go? Any place but back. Please don’t let him find me.
    Scattered thoughts and fumbling hands, all panicked excitement and raging guilt.
    What if I get pregnant? My mother will kill me. Is it going to hurt? Does he really love me?
    Images, thoughts, voices washed over her in waves of shapes and sounds.
    Leave me alone, she demanded. Just leave me alone. With her eyes still shut, Tory imagined a wall, thick and high and white. She built it brick by brick until it stood between her and all the memories left hanging in the room like smoke. Behind the wall was all cool, clear blue. Water to float in, to sink in. And finally, to sleep in.
    And high above that pale blue pool the sun was white and warm. She could hear birdsong, and the lap of water as she trailed her hands through it. Her body was weightless here, her mind quiet. At the edges of the pool she could see the grand live oaks and their lacing of moss, and a willow bowing like a courtier to dip its fronds in the glassy surface.
    Smiling to herself she closed her eyes and drifted.
    The sound of laughter was high and bright, a girl’s careless joy. Lazily, Tory opened her eyes.
    There, by the willow, Hope stood waving.
    Hey, Tory! Hey, I was looking for you.
    Joy struck first, a bright arrow. Turning in the water, Tory waved back. Come on in. The water’s great.
    We get caught skinny-dipping, we’re both going to get it.
But