Inevitable Sentences Read Online Free PDF

National Geographic?”
    He gazed out the window coated in a frozen film. He imagined the trees that would be covered in ice by morning, their limbs bending precariously close to electrical wires. There was a good chance the power would go out. If that did happen, he would be stuck in this bed and wouldn’t be able to help Celeste.
    Max tried hard to see through the ice-crusted window. He wasn’t sure what he thought he would look at, even if the glass were clear—a gray sky or perhaps the tops of trees stripped of their leaves. The only thing that filtered through was the darkness that came early this time of year. He’d rather be at the lighthouse sitting on the bench perched near the cliff’s edge. He imagined savoring a glass of wine with Celeste as they sat in the kaleidoscopic blaze of a summer sunset over Lake Superior. Much better than watching ice cover a hospital window.
    Max would also love to hear Celeste’s voice chattering away about the day’s events or about something that irritated her in the news—like the lack of doctors taking new Medicare patients, or the horrid state of Medicaid, or the increase in domestic violence. He could hear her voice rise as she ticked off statistics. Her eyes—lovely eyes—always widened when she spoke adamantly on a topic dear to her. Max smiled at the image.
    He and Celeste never talked about Chad Wilbanks anymore. There was no point. What was done was done. Nothing would change that. And nothing they said or did would shed more light on why Pilar had fallen in love with him, or whether he had anything to do with her murder.
    Max lowered his head to the pillow, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. He always felt he had let Celeste down, always blamed himself because they couldn’t find enough evidence to prove that Chad planned the whole scheme to get Pilar to help him escape, to take her money and … Well, Max knew the ending. Chad was still locked away for the rest of his life, no matter what his part had been in Pilar’s murder.
    Still, how would Max ever tell Celeste what he really knew about Chad? He had kept the truth from her, thinking it would protect her and help her get through her grief. When would be the right time to tell her?
    Max recalled the day Marcus came to the prison after Pilar died and had spoken with him. Max himself was stunned by Marcus’s revelation: Chad was his son. How would Celeste take the news? Would she understand that Max had kept the secret to protect her, or would it forever be a wedge in their relationship? It was time to find out.
    Max studied a framed picture of Celeste sitting on his bed stand. He couldn’t think of going anywhere without it anymore. He felt fortunate to have found such special love twice in his life. He had loved his wife up to the moment of her last breath, and he hoped to persuade Celeste to become the next beloved Mrs. Whitefeather.
    He picked up the picture. He loved that Celeste had her hair take its own course—no more hairdressers trying to tame its curl. She often wore it pulled back and clasped at the nape of her long, Audrey Hepburn neck. The style showed off her elegant, high cheekbones and Greek profile.
    He touched his own long gray hair. Would she like his hair in a braid? Maybe Celeste would join him and wear her hair in a braid too. What would Nurse Hooper think of that? Two people going through a midlife crises and returning to the 1960s. Would they also start a collection of recordings by Jimmy Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and The Doors?
    To Max, Celeste had become more beautiful since she moved to the Upper Peninsula. She looked younger. The fresh air and less stressful environment—or as stress-free as a safe house could be—brought out her natural glow. The photograph clearly showed her large eyes edged in lush, dark lashes, a stark contrast to her milky white skin. How he wanted to kiss those eyes, that skin.
    He had to stop thinking like this or he’d have to rip the IV out, drive