Dimwater's Demons Read Online Free PDF Page B

now, her mother’s breathing came in short, struggling spurts. She tried to rouse her mother just enough for dinner.
    “I made soup, mum,” Eleanor said with a cheery voice as she brought a clay bowl over to her mother. In truth, it was barely more than tepid water with a couple of cubed carrots and a third of an onion, but it was more than they had had the day before.
    Normally it wasn’t as bad as all of this. Eleanor’s mother had a friend who sent them money each week. It was never much, but it had been enough to buy food and clothes through the years. Unfortunately, Eleanor’s mother had taken ill in late spring, coughing up blood and riddled with fevers. That ate up the money they had been saving. Eleanor’s mother had always said there would be a special surprise on Eleanor’s fourteenth birthday.
    That day had come and gone over a month ago, but her mother was too sick to disclose what the surprise was.
    Then, two weeks ago, the money stopped. Eleanor stretched it as best she could, but she wasn’t old enough to earn money with the day laborers, nor could she leave her mother alone for long.
    “Mum, come on, we have to keep your strength up,” Eleanor said as she settled in at her mother’s bedside with the soup.
    Her mother opened her green eyes and smiled lucidly for the first time that day.
    “My little bumblebee,” she said softly. “You made dinner?”
    Eleanor beamed proudly. “I did,” she said. She raised the bowl to her mother and helped her drink the broth.
    “It’s good,” her mother said. “But, where is yours?”
    “I already ate, while you were sleeping,” Eleanor lied.
    Her mother nodded and continued drinking the soup from the bowl, stopping to chew the bits of carrot and onion as they came into her mouth. Then, once it was gone, she pushed herself up on shaking elbows.
    “Mum, you should rest,” Eleanor said as she moved to block her mother.
    “I’m all right. Listen to me for a bit.”
    Eleanor scooted in close and her mother stroked her hair. “I never got to give you your present,” she said as she reached under her pillow for a white comb and moved to separate the tangles in Eleanor’s sandy hair. “I have it ready now, but before I give it to you, I want you to promise me something.”
    “Anything, mum,” Eleanor said. She winced as her mother pulled at a knot in her hair with the comb that yanked on her scalp.
    “I want you to promise to do whatever Horace Bagman tells you to do tomorrow.”
    Eleanor’s brow drew into a knot above the bridge of her narrow nose and she pulled away to look at her mother. “Why should I do that, mum?”
    “Uh-uh, you promised to do something for me. You can’t go back on it now.”
    “I had my fingers crossed, you know, in case I didn’t like it.” Eleanor hurried to cross her fingers and then triumphantly display them to her mother. “So, I can change my mind now if I want to.”
    Eleanor’s mother sighed and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short by a fit of four coughs, each one more intense than the last until the woman was nearly doubled over.
    “Are you okay?” Eleanor asked.
    Her mother nodded her head and wiped her mouth. Eleanor didn’t miss the new, bright spots of blood on the rag.
    “Promise me you will do what Horace says.”
    “All right, mum, if it means that much to you. I will do what he wants me to do.”
    Her mother nodded appreciatively. “That is as it should be. Now, take this to him tomorrow in the morning, and he will give you your present.”
    “Your comb?” Eleanor asked as she looked at her mother’s comb. “But you said this was a gift from my father.”
    Her mother winced at the mention of her father, and tried to hide the oncoming tears in a cough as she looked away before replying.
    “It’s made of ivory,” she said. “This comb is going to Horace Bagman so that your father and I can give you one last birthday gift. You are fourteen now, and you deserve