Night of the Purple Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

overhead and the dawn sky was a darker shade of purple than the day before. No gulls, no traffic. No signs of life anywhere.
    The only survivors, as much as she knew for certain, were in this house, and one had sped by in a green car.
    The grey cat rubbed against her leg. When she and Kevin had left the Couture’s house, the cat squirted through the open door and followed them home, as if it knew that both of its owners were dead.
    She fed the cat some tuna fish.
    She waited in the kitchen until seven o’clock, but there was no ferry horn. She tried her best to remain upbeat. The ferry still might come later this morning, or sometime today, or even tomorrow.
    Abby returned upstairs and lifted Toucan. She had reached one conclusion during the night when she had been staring at the ceiling. She should establish a routine for her sister, especially eating, napping, and bath times. Abby thought a routine would not only help Toucan cope with all the craziness, but it would give the rest of them something to do. You had less time to feel sad when you had to care for an energetic toddler.
    Toucan chattered away in her highchair. “Cat. Toucan. Cat.” She dropped bits of food. The cat sniffed each Cheerio and banana slice that rained down, but didn’t eat them.
    Toucan pushed out her lower lip. “Miss Daddy.”
    Pressure built behind Abby’s eyes. “Me too, Touk.”
    Her sister’s face brightened and she flung her arms wide. “Toucan down. Love cat.”
    Abby lowered her sister from the high chair. “Be gentle,” she reminded her for the tenth time.
    Toucan squealed, “Hug cat,” and the chase began.
    The stairs creaked and Emily appeared, the clothes she’d borrowed from Abby swallowing her small frame. But the red sneakers fit perfectly.
    “Good morning,” Abby said out of habit. “Are you hungry?”
    Emily replied that she was, and Abby showed her what they had to eat. Emily fixed toast with peanut butter.
    “At least the toaster works,” Abby said. “I don’t think we can count on the electricity working much longer.”
    She immediately regretted saying that. She worried that Emily, even though she appeared stronger than yesterday, might go into shock again. “You sound really good playing the violin,” Abby added to steer the conversation to a topic far removed from the comet and space dust, from death, from problems that they would inevitably have to face; a safe and neutral topic that had nothing to do with the brutal reality surrounding them.
    Emily’s eyes widened. “You can hear me all the way over here?”
    Abby nodded. “If your windows are open.”
    Emily sniffled, and soon tears were trickling down her cheeks.
    “What’s the matter?” Abby took her hand. “Honestly, you’re good. I can’t play an instrument.”
    Emily swallowed hard. “Mother insisted I practice for two hours every day. I miss my parents.”
    Abby realized that every topic traced back to sadness.
    The cat let out a sudden cry, and their attention shifted. Toucan had it cornered.
    “Toucan, be gentle,” Abby said. “The cat is not a toy.”
    Emily wiped her eyes. “Toucan is an unusual name.”
    “I’m afraid I’m to blame,” Abby said. “Her real name is Lisette. When my sister was born, she had a really big nose. I said she looked like a toucan. My mom loved the nickname, and that was that.”
    “But her nose isn’t big,” Emily said.
    “Yeah, the rest of her face grew faster. Right, Touk?”
    “Toucan, what’s the name of your cat?” Emily asked quietly.
    “Cat,” she squealed.
    “I like that name,” Emily said.
    “It’s not ours,” Abby said. “It followed me and your brother home. I guess it’s ours now. We should give it a name.”
    “Toucan already did,” Emily said.
    Abby smiled. “Cat? Should we ask the boys? We could take a vote.”
    Emily gave an impish grin. “Who cares what they think.”
    Something happened then, something Abby didn’t think possible: she and Emily giggled.
    * *