Dark Water Rising Read Online Free PDF

ginger in this parade than any turnout for the past several years.”
    We said good-bye to Uncle Nate, Aunt Julia, and the kids, and headed home. Papa bought saltwater taffy for us to eat on the long walk and teased Mama about having been so leery of making this move.
    She laughed, her eyes still shiny from the excitement of the parade. “The Good Lord has a reason for everything, Thomas, and I suppose there’s a reason for this move as well.”
    I’d heard Mama say that sort of thing many times before, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. Papa didn’t reply, but I could tell he thought he already knew why he was here. He wanted to build a new business for himself and send his sons to college. I watched him peel the paper from another piece of taffy and pop it into Mama’s mouth—I think just to hear her laugh again.
    I liked seeing them happy, but I liked even betterthat I’d have a chance to prove myself to Papa. If God truly had a reason for everything that happened to us, then making Papa see things my way had to be the reason I got that carpenter job.
    That night, I wound the clock and set the alarm for six. The walk to my new job site in the morning would be a long one, and I had no intention of being late for my first day of work.
    But sleep didn’t come easy. I lay wide awake for hours, staring at the ceiling while parade cheers and band music played in my head. After a while, I caught the sweet scent of jasmine drifting through the windows from the Masons’ trellis next door. It made this strange place feel a bit more like home, and finally I closed my eyes.

Chapter
5
    A loud clap of thunder woke me before daylight Tuesday morning. Bedsprings squeaked as Matt and Lucas rolled over and settled into sleep again. I lay there, waiting, and when lightning lit the room, I glanced at the clock. It was almost five.
    Thunder rolled again, already sounding farther away. I turned off the alarm and went to the windows. The storm had swept in from the southeast, and as I watched, another blue-white lightning strike turned rooftops and trees into a landscape of winter white and shadow. I groaned. Rain would ruin everything.
    But apparently I’d slept through the worst of it. By five thirty, the storm had blown over, and my first day of work lay ahead of me, damp but promising.
    I slipped downstairs, ate a cold breakfast of bread and leftover ham, and packed more of the same for later. Careful not to wake anyone, I carried my hat and shoesto the front steps and was down the street before the sun had peeked above the horizon.
    The thunderstorm had lowered the temperature slightly, making my walk the most pleasant since I’d arrived. The birds must’ve felt it, too. Doves cooed and roosters crowed. Seagulls glided overhead till their beady eyes spotted some discarded scrap. Then dozens would appear from nowhere, thieving from one another and starting a fracas of calls.
    Block after block, I heard babies wake and cry for their mothers. Doors squeaked open, pans rattled on stoves, and streams of milk from full cows hit empty buckets. I smelled horses and hay, bacon and biscuits, and, before long, a salty breeze lifted the sweet scent of fresh lumber and carried it right to me.
    Just ahead, only two blocks from the beach, lay the houses where I’d be working.
    I was the first to arrive, and in the long shadows of early morning, I walked through the unfinished houses, each one at a different stage of completion. They’d all been built from one plan but cleverly changed in some way. A side gable here or a front gable there, a different window or door. Arched porch lintels with cutout railings on one, turned posts with Victorian balustrades on another.
    I climbed a ladder left leaning against the third house,stood on the unfinished gallery, and looked out over the gulf. The sun, still low, shimmered across the waves, a reminder of heat yet to come. Even with the slightly cooler breeze, I felt sweat beading under my shirt and