Christmas in Dogtown Read Online Free PDF Page A

to the sides of the hous e where the sun would hit them.
    Resa parked next to Chan’s truck, walked onto the narrow front porch, and raised her hand to knock on the solid wooden door. Instead, intrigued by the wraparound decking , she walked to the left corner of the house. The porch extended all the way along the depth of the building, which was bigger than it looked from the front.
    Did it go all the way around? Resa walked along the rough planks and stopped abruptly at the point where the porch took another ninety-degree turn to span the back of the Chez Chandler .
    Unlike the front porch, which was too narrow to even set chairs, the back porch extended far over the edge of the Maurepas Swamp , and windows covered most of the rear of the house. Chan would feel as if he were the only person in the world even from inside.
    Without thinking, Resa sat on a sturdy rocking chair near the edge of the deck , over the water, and pushed herself into a gentle rhythm as she looked out at towering cypress trees reaching for the heavens, their gray trunks scored and ancient. A snowy egret sat on a log protruding from the murky water, then took flight with a broad spread of wings. Something splashed in the distance, creating ripples.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
    Resa started and looked up to see Chan standing behind her, his hands on the back of the rocker, stilling its movement. “It’s amazing. You know, all the way out here I wondered why you’d live in such a remote area. But I understand. I totally get it.”
    “Do you? I’m not so sure.”
    Resa stood and faced him, ready to rip him a new one for presuming to know how she felt. Her words died in her throat at the sight of him.
    “You’re sick. Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Instinctively, she reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek and forehead. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you call me? You should be in bed.”
    Resa realized her Inner Jeanne was coming out, but she couldn’t help it. She grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him inside. A blanket and pillow lay on an oversize sofa that stretched across an open living room, facing the wall of windows. All the time she’d been watching the swamp, Chan had been watching her.
    “Lie down on the sofa again. You need something to drink? Do you have juice? Milk?”
    “Juice is good.”
    As soon as she was sure Chan had re-settled himself on the sofa, Resa looked around. The first floor was one big room, with a single door leading off into what she assumed was a bathroom. A staircase on both ends led to a loft, probably a bedroom. He could lie in bed and look out into the swamp.
    “You had this built after you moved back? It smells new.” Resa walked to the corner kitchen area and found a glass. A carton of orange juice—and not much else—sat on the top shelf of the fridge.
    “I built it.” Chan coughed, and took a sip of the juice she handed him. “Lived in Mike’s place in town until I got enough done to live in it. Still trying to decide how I want to divide up the first floor.”
    Resa went back to the kitchen, doused a paper towel with cold water, and perched on the edge of the sofa next to him. “It’s beautiful. I’d leave it just like this. The open space is nice.” She gently wiped his face with the cool, wet towel. “Maderes and Caillous don’t get sick, you know. You’re breaking the rules.” Except Uncle Aim had been sick, too. Obviously, her theory had been wrong.
    “That’s me, the rebel.” He drank the rest of the juice and handed her the glass. “Thanks.”
    She twisted the glass around in her hands. “Why didn’t you call and tell me you were sick, Chan? I do care, you know.”
    He gave her a long, steady look from fever-bright eyes, then closed them with a sigh. “’Cause I’m Dogtown, Resa.”
    “Meaning…?” But he’d dropped off to sleep and didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. That one short sentence spoke volumes.

 
    ~8~
     
    The hairdryer’s buzz