No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane) Read Online Free PDF Page A

out.
    “You know for
sure that’s what he’s thinking?”
    “Of course.
Those boys always had everything—looks, intelligence, talent, popularity. And
now he’s made a bunch of money and thinks he’s some powerful businessman. Of
course, he feels entitled to whatever he wants.” She scowled as she added, “And
he doesn’t even want the manuscript for any good reason.”
    “How do you
know why he wants to buy it?”
    “That’s what he said,” she admitted begrudgingly.
    She could very
clearly visualize Andrew’s face just fifteen minutes ago—the dark gray eyes,
strong nose, tight mouth, and the distinctive line of his jaw. He’d eyed her so
coolly and distantly, as if she were barely worth his notice, and he’d refused
to listen to her strong case for why the library should acquire the manuscript.
    She remembered Andrew
from when she was a child. She’d always looked at him from afar as some sort of
handsome, perfect prince. Always smiling, always at the center of attention,
always charming those around him with his charismatic personality.
    The years had
matured him into something else. She’d noticed little lines by his eyes and
nose—perhaps from stress—and a tightness in his mouth that hadn’t been there
before. She certainly hadn’t seen any evidence of charm or charisma, although
he was handsome enough that she imagined he probably attracted plenty of women
anyway.
    When she’d been
a child, she’d considered him eminently out of her reach, but she resented the
feeling now. She wasn’t going to cave to his sense of authority or entitlement,
and she wasn’t going to run away from him, as she had literally run on one
mortifying occasion in the back of the church when she’d been ten.
    Returning to
her present conversation, she added, “Thomas said Andrew wanted the manuscript as
an investment. It’s just about money to him.”
    “You know that
for sure?”
    “No, but why
else would he want it? He’s not a scholar or a literary historian, and its
deeper significance seems to be meaningless to him. The manuscript belongs in
the library, and he’s just being selfish and greedy to try to take it from us.”
    Her father’s
expression, more skeptical than sympathetic now, suddenly made Helen feel
ashamed of her attitude. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at her hands
in her lap. “He made me mad.”
    “I can see
that.”
    “I know I’m
being resentful and making assumptions and probably judging him unfairly. But I
have trouble feeling any sort of sympathy for him—and not just because of the
manuscript. He had everything, and he gave it all up. He left it all behind.”
    “You think he
just gave up?” Her father’s eyebrows had lifted but there was a softer look in
his eyes now.
    “Yeah. Didn’t
he? He left his father, his hometown, his faith.”
    “You know his
spiritual state?”
    Helen
swallowed. “Well, not personally. But everyone says…”
    Her father
didn’t chide her for listening to gossip. Instead, he said mildly, “Andrew Cane
was the most devout boy I’ve ever known in all my years pastoring. That’s the
truth. Can you imagine what it must have taken for him to let his faith go,
even temporarily?”
    Helen stared at
the floor and thought about that for a long time. She recalled her impressions
of Andrew from when he’d been a teenager, and she couldn’t doubt her father’s word.
So what had happened to change that?
    “No,” she said
at last, raising her eyes back up to meet her father’s. “I can’t imagine. Do you
think he went through some sort of trauma or something?”
    “I don’t know.
I haven’t spoken with him in years, but I can’t help but think it’s significant
that he’s finally returned to Cane.”
    “He came to get
the manuscript.”
    “Maybe. Or
maybe that was the excuse he used to return for deeper reasons.”
    Helen silently
struggled against the resentment she still felt from her confrontation with Andrew.
“But the