Mulberry Park Read Online Free PDF Page A

child?
    Before she could ponder her growing concern, a graveled voice sounded from below. “Lose something?”
    Claire’s heart thumped, and she jerked back, nearly losing her balance. She grabbed a branch to steady herself, inadvertently crushing the letter in her hand.
    On the ground, an elderly man stood, one hand on his hip, the other holding the leather handle of a worn brown satchel. His hair was white and thick, and he needed a shave.
    Her embarrassment ran amok.
    “Crazy fool woman. What are you doing up there?” A sparkle in his eyes suggested he was teasing, although she couldn’t be sure.
    “I’m…” She glanced at the blue letter and envelope she’d crumpled in her hand. “Just reading.”
    He humphed, then shook his woolly head. “There’s probably a law against climbing trees in the park. And if there isn’t, there ought to be. You could fall and break your neck.”
    The man looked as old as creation, and an aura of bright light lit his head like a halo or some kind of heavenly crown. She could almost imagine that God had taken human form and come down to earth to punish her for reading His mail, for pretending to be Him.
    When the man shifted his weight to one hip, eliminating the reflected glare from the sun and revealing a pair of wire-rim glasses perched on his head, the pseudo-divine aura completely disappeared.
    “I don’t suppose you have a ladder?” she quipped.
    “Not with me.”
    She watched him for a while, expecting him to move on and go about his way, but he continued to study her. “You’re watching me as if you haven’t been entertained in years. Don’t you have a television at home?”
    “Nope. Got tired of all the dang reruns.” A teasing glimmer lit his eyes, and humor tugged at his lips. He nodded toward the case he carried. “I don’t suppose you play chess.”
    “Afraid not. I never could figure out how to balance the game board in a tree.”
    “Too bad.” His grin broadened to an outright smile. “If you ever get it figured out, just give me a holler. My name’s Walter.”
    “Mine’s Claire. And I’ll do that.”
    He nodded, then turned toward the parking lot, heading for the red pickup with the American flag decal displayed on the rear window. She’d seen it here before. It had a bumper sticker that claimed he was one of The Chosin Few.
    A Korean War veteran, she suspected. A man who’d proudly fought at the Chosin Reservoir.
    She tried to smooth the letter, then carefully tucked it into the waistband of her shorts.
    As the pickup roared to life, she lowered herself to the ground. Her legs were still a bit rubbery from her run, and her foot slipped, causing her ankle to twist slightly and her knee to scrape against the bark.
    “Ouch.” She regained her footing, but grumbled again at the stupidity that had put her in this position.
    The old man had called her crazy, and she had to agree. All she needed was a broken neck. Or to get laid up and be unable to work. Or worse. God forbid she’d be unable to run anymore. The rigorous daily jog was what kept her sane and her life on track.
    Once safely out of the tree and seated on the bench, she pulled out the letter, reread it, and considered her response. Then she took the marker Analisa had again provided, printing this time so the girl could read the words all by herself—without Trever’s help. When she finished, she dropped the marker back into the envelope, folded the wrinkled paper, tucked it inside, and placed it on the lowest branch.
    As Claire drove toward the small condominium complex just off Chinaberry Lane and the three-bedroom place she called home, she again recalled the old man’s words: Crazy fool woman.
    For a moment, she’d wondered if maybe he’d been right. After all, how many grown women climbed into trees and responded to letters addressed to God?
    There was a time when Claire might have called Vickie, the woman who’d once been her best friend.
    “Hey, Vick,” she would have