Deep in the Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

need to get back to the house," I added, looking over at Christine. "There's probably boxes all over the place, and we need to tell the movers where to put the furniture."
    With half-eaten sandwiches and half-filled glasses before us, we stood and shuffled about the table so we could say goodbye to Phillip.
    "You'll love it here," Deighton said, walking us to the front door. "Like I said, we've been here for twenty-seven years. I met my wife in Boston, married her then moved up here a year later. Got a job at the plant on the other side of town, put in twenty-five before taking an early retirement three years ago. Rosy needed someone to take care of her." He shrugged his shoulders.
    "And that someone was you," I said.
    "Yep. What was I gonna do?"
    Jessica and Page were on the porch, and Christine was holding the door open for me when I said, "You never told me what was wrong with her." I always felt it was improper to ask someone a question regarding a family medical issue, especially outside of the office, but as her doctor in waiting, I figured I had the right to ask.
    "Cancer."
    He was lying. I didn't need to look into his eyes to know that.
    "Anyways, you folks hurry along. Get yourselves all settled. We're here all day, up late at night, and Rosy's usually her best around about dinnertime, so you all feel free to stop on by at your convenience. There's always some cold tea brewing in the fridge, and Rosy's one helluva cook." He winked playfully at Jessica, who still looked a little pale to me. "And if Page gets hungry, he's always welcome to stop by for a snack too."
    "Page is always hungry," Jessica said.
    "We definitely will, Phillip," I said, lying again. Lunch was good for all of us, but I had no desire to race back for second helpings. I still felt the man's foremost intention was for me to give Rosy a once-over, and that soured my taste a bit.   We walked down the porch to the minivan.
    "Nice meeting you, Doctor Cayle," he added. There was something sharp and glowing in his eyes that made me believe he knew exactly what I was thinking.
    I smiled. "Likewise, Phillip."
    We piled into the minivan, and as I pulled away I watched him walk back into his house with the sudden pain-filled stagger of a man of eighty.

6
     
    W e spent most of the day shifting boxes around the house and directing the movers, who'd arrived while we were at Phillip's. We'd toured the house only once before, so we were still a bit uncertain as to where everything should go. In the end, however, we got it all figured out. Christine and I took the largest bedroom upstairs, Jessica picked the one right next to ours, and even Jimmy Page got his own room, down the hall next to the bathroom.
    The movers pulled out around ten-thirty. By then Jessica felt better and was sleeping in her new room, Page nestled alongside her on the bare mattress, snoring quietly. Mountains of boxes surrounded them; inside were Jessica's things, countless dolls and toys and books and clothes and other childhood necessities that would become giveaways in a year or two.
    Throughout the day Christine had been in charge of opening boxes and sliding tables and chairs around, as well as placing knickknacks here and there and everywhere while I complained that her desire to decorate had kicked in a bit too early. I'd argued—we'd spent a good fifteen minutes of every hour bickering—that we needed to be more organized and settle on the locations of big things like furniture and televisions before potholders and trivets were hung on the walls. Of course I lost this battle, so she did her thing and I did mine, with us crossing paths every now and then on the more hazy matters, like where to put the beer cooler full of Page's toys.
    When fatigue got the best of us, I convinced Christine that a glass of wine might be a good way to end the day, so we uncorked the bottle of Merlot we'd brought along, dug back into the crackers and cheese we had for dinner, and clinked our glasses in