Family Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

glad you didn’t!”
    Fletcher winced. “Hey, buddy, give me a hand with the unpacking, will you?”
    The big items had all been delivered, but there were several loads of unopened boxes.
    â€œThe show’s almost over. I want to see how the cheese turns out.”
    â€œThe suspense must be killing you,” said Fletcher. “Hey, you know what they make with the mozzarella cheese?”
    â€œPizza! Can we order pizza tonight?”
    â€œSure. Or we could just eat the leftover pizza from last night.”
    â€œIt’s better fresh.”
    â€œGood point. I’ll call after we unpack two more boxes. Deal?”
    â€œYeah,” Teddy said with a quick fist pump.
    The new house had everything Fletcher had once envisioned, back when he’d had someone to dream with—a big kitchen open to the rest of the house. If he knew how to cook, delicious things would happen here. But the person who made the delicious things was longgone from his life. Still the old dream lingered, leading Fletcher to this particular house, a New England classic a century old. It had a fireplace and a room with enough bookshelves to be called a library. There was a back porch with a swing he’d spent the afternoon putting together, and it was not just any swing, but a big, comfortable one with cushions large enough for a fine nap—a swing he’d been picturing for more than a decade.
    They tackled a couple of boxes of books. Teddy was quiet for a while as he shelved them. Then he held up one of the books. “Why’s it called Lord of the Flies ?”
    â€œBecause it’s awesome,” Fletcher said.
    â€œOkay, but why is it called that?”
    â€œYou’ll find out when you’re older.”
    â€œIs it something dirty I’m not supposed to know about?”
    â€œIt’s filthy dirty.”
    â€œMom would have a cow if I told her you had a dirty book.”
    â€œGreat. Here’s a thought. Don’t tell her.”
    Teddy put the book on the shelf, then added a few more to the collection. “So, Dad?”
    â€œYeah, buddy?”
    â€œIs this really where we live now?” He looked around the room, his eyes two saucers of hurt.
    Fletcher nodded. “This is where we live.”
    â€œForever and ever?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œThat’s a long time.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œSo when I tell my friends to come over to my house, will they come to this one or our other house?”
    There was no our anymore. Celia had taken possession of the custom-built place west of town.
    He stopped shelving books and turned to Teddy. “Wherever you are, that’s home.”
    They worked together, putting up the last of the books. Fletcher stepped back, liking the balance of the bookcases flanking the fireplace, the breeze from the back porch stirring the chains of the swing.
    The only thing missing was the one person who had shared the dream with him.

3
    O pen your eyes.”
    An unfamiliar voice drifted overhead. She couldn’t tell if the spoken words were in her mind or in the room. The sound floated away into silence, punctuated by hissing and a low hum. Despite the request, she couldn’t open her eyes. The room didn’t exist. Only blackness. She was swimming in dark water, yet for some reason, she could breathe in and out as though the water nourished her lungs.
    Other sounds filled the space around her, but she couldn’t identify them—the rhythmic suck and sigh of a machine, maybe a dishwasher or a mechanical pump of some kind. A hydraulic pump?
    She smelled . . . something. Flowers in bloom. Maybe bug spray. No, flowers. Lilies. Stargazer lilies.
    Lilies of the field. Wasn’t that from the Sermon on the Mount? It was the name of a high school play. Yes, her friend Gordy had won the Sidney Poitier role in the production.
    â€œ. . . more activity by the hour. She’s progressed to minimal consciousness. The night