Dark Weaver (Weaver Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Kalan wasn’t home yet and I’d heard nothing from him all day.  Not even a whisper, which hadn’t even occurred to me until now.  He’d said he had something to do, but he didn’t say what it was, or how late he would be.  I got up from the couch and wandered down the hallway, my hand resting on the doorknob that closed off our units. I turned it gently and walked inside.  I could smell his cedar-scent the moment I entered and it gave me a sense of comfort.  His smell was home for me and I realized how much I’d missed him.  I entered the living room, and immediately spotted a thick layer of dust on the glass coffee table.  I also noticed that there was a stale odor to the place.  This was so unlike Kalan who was meticulous about everything. When I walked into the kitchen I saw a basket of black bananas on the counter, and when I went into his room I spotted a curdled glass of milk sitting on the dresser.  I picked up the glass and went straight to work cleaning the place up. 
    An hour later as I was winding the cord up on the vacuum cleaner, I heard him call out to me.  “I’m back here!”  I yelled back as I shut the utility closet door.
    “Since when do you do housework the old-fashioned way?”  he said as he met me in the hall.
    “Since when do you not keep your place immaculate?”  I chided.
    “I don’t know what you mean, it was clean when I left this morning,” he said and embraced me gently, kissing me on the cheek.
    “Seriously?”   I laughed.  “There was a layer of dust an inch thick on the coffee table Mr. Neat Freak.  It looks like you haven’t been here in a week!”
    “Someone must be exaggerating here because we both know that isn’t possible.” 
    “Okay, maybe not quite an inch, but it was really dusty!”
    I followed him back to the living room and took a seat on the couch as he thumbed through a rather large stack of mail he’d carried in with him.
    “So where’d you go?”  I asked, trying to sound casual.
    “Huh?” 
    “I asked, where did you go at lunch?”  His eyes were focused on a bill he’d just pulled from an envelope.
    “ Uhm, I went to the Soup Tureen in the mall — the same place that you did, remember?”  He weaved the entire pile of bills away and then looked up at me.  His confused expression made my heart skip a beat.  This wasn’t good.  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.  Without opening them, I whispered, “No, I don’t.  You said you couldn’t meet today because you had something to do remember?”
    “Joey, that wasn’t today . That was a few days ago,” he said.  I put my hands on the sides of my temples and pressed my fingers in little circles.  Everything went dark and then I was falling.  I came to with something cold on my forehead and realized that Kalan had my head in his lap.  I must have bumped my shoulder on something because it felt like it was on fire.  My vision came in to focus and the concern on his face equaled my own.
    “What happened?”  I asked.
    “You fainted, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t catch you in time.  You slid off the couch sideways and hit your shoulder on the table.”  He adjusted the washcloth on my forehead.  “How are you feeling now?”
    “I think I’m all right,” I muttered pulling the cloth from my head and pushed myself to a sitting position.  “What is that smell?”  I asked scrunching up my nose.
    “It’s an herbal infusion we used to use back at home.  I soaked the washcloth with it.”  Kalan looked as proud as a little boy who had just served up his first mud pie.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him how bad it smelled.  Considering my family was steeped in old remedies for ailments, I knew a thing or two about ingredients and whatever was on that washcloth wasn’t good.  It smelled like turpentine.
    “Well, thanks baby,” I said with forced enthusiasm.  “What’s in it?”
    “This and that — I don’t know.  I just weaved it.  I’m