Letter From Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

curved into a funny half smile whenever the boys were near, the kind of smile that promised a kiss when nobody was around to see. Her laughter, a peal of delight, made everybody crowd around her. Her blue eyes glowed as if she saw things other people didn’t see. Now those eyes were glazed and staring.
    â€œYou’re hurt. I’ll get Grandmother.” Gretchen started to turn away.
    â€œNo!” Barb’s cry was desperate. “I don’t want anybody to know. If you won’t help me, I’ll go back by myself.” Barb was crying, swiping at her eyes, struggling to get up.
    â€œWait, I’m coming.” Gretchen pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, slipped barefoot into her loafers. Her glance swept the room, then she reached for the pillow, shook the case free, rolled it into a long strip two inches wide. She carried it in one hand as she pushed the screen out, swung over the sill, and dropped softly to the ground. She hurried to Barb, knelt, and peered at her foot. “You’ve got dirt in it. We need to wash it up. I can get some water, but we need to call Dr. Jamison.”
    â€œWe can’t take the time.” Barb yanked the strip of cloth out of Gretchen’s hand. She slung the rolled pillowcase under her foot, crossed the ends over her instep, tied them tight. “Help me up.”
    They stood close together. Barb’s fingers gouged Gretchen’s arm. “Come on. I heard Mama scream.” She pulled on Gretchen’s arm, leaned against her for support, and limped across the lawn.
    The moon rode high in the sky. Gretchen knew it was very late. Archer Street lay quiet as a ghost town. All the houses were dark. All of them.
    â€œBarb, what happened? Why did your mom scream?” Were Faye and Clyde Tatum fighting again?
    â€œI heard somebody knock. Mama spoke and her voice was real loud and then the front door slammed against the wall. That’s when Mama screamed.” Tears streamed down Barb’s face. She clung to Gretchen, tried to walk even faster. They kept to the grassy verge of the street, avoiding the gravel.
    When they reached the front porch of the Tatum house, bright moonlight showed the front door open, open to darkness within and without.
    â€œMama? Mama?” Barb’s voice was shrill in the silence.
    Gretchen pointed at the dark doorway. “Were the lights off when you left?”
    Barb pressed her fingers against her cheeks. “When I got out of my window, I ran toward the front of the house. Light was coming around the shades in the living room. Then the light went out. I was scared. I turned and ran and all of a sudden I was at your house. I came to your window. Like we used to do a long time ago.” One summer when they were eight or nine, they’d played a game, slipping out of their rooms late at night, going to the other house, whispering, then coming home again in the darkness and no one ever knew they’d been up and out. “Remember? Anyway, I came to your house.” Barb stepped toward the screen door. “Mama? Mama?”
    No answer.
    Barb reached out, yanked open the screen. She stepped into the dark living room, her hand brushing to her right. When the light came on, she clamped her hand over her mouth, but the sound of her scream pulsed against the dreadful silence in the room.
    After one look, Gretchen grabbed Barb’s arm, pulled her outside to the porch and down the steps. The screen door banged shut. “Your dad—where’s your dad?” Gretchen turned away from the house, wishing she could run and scream and cry.
    Barb lifted one hand, clawed at her throat. She made a bubbling noise. She struggled to break free of Gretchen.
    Gretchen held tight to Barb’s arm. Gretchen’s throat ached, too. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid her mind of that terrible glimpse of Faye Tatum, slumped on her back near the sofa, her blond hair splayed against the braided rug,