Once Upon a List Read Online Free PDF Page A

attempting to pick herself up, dust herself off, and start all over again. Ultimately, she’d gained nothing but command of the dolphin alphabet, a couple clay pinch-pots, and a pathetic-looking handmade sweater with two neck holes. And so, with her grief sitting on her soul like a ten-ton brick, Clara—the same peppy girl voted “Most Likely to Brighten Your Day” in her High School senior yearbook—finally yielded to the escalating despair she’d battled so desperately to overcome, and allowed herself to descend into a thick, black fog of nothingness. At last, accepting that no other viable alternative existed, Clara ran out of steam and gave up on life. Simple as that. She just couldn’t fight anymore. She was too depleted and broken to try, or even care. She was done—like her Frisky Kittens in a Fruit Bowl needlepoint that she’d completed a tenth of and knew would never see another stitch.
    â€œWell, zombie or not, it’s a treat to have you home.” Libby winked at Clara.
    â€œSo when did this box arrive?” Clara steered the conversation in a new direction, hoping to avoid further discussion about her disappointing absentmindedness. “Why didn’t you mention anything about it to me?”
    â€œI called you in Boston when it was delivered back in July and you specifically told me to put it in your bedroom. So I did.” Libby sipped her wine. “Remember?”
    Clara drew a complete blank, which was reflected in her vacant expression.
    â€œYou said it probably wasn’t anything important, or it would have been sent to you directly, and you’d just open it when you came home next.” Libby continued to attempt to jog her memory, but Clara’s confused appearance revealed that she might as well have been speaking Klingon. “ Hello? Is any of this ringing a bell?” Libby’s voice was now laced with unequivocal concern. “Christ on the cross,” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers a few times when Clara didn’t respond. “ Come on . Get with the program, Clara-pie. Wake up!”
    Right then, Leo, bless his little buffer heart, cleared his throat, interrupting, “I would like to propose a toast.” He raised his glass. “To Clara! Welcome home. It is wonderful to have you back.” He smiled at his sister.
    Setting her concerns aside for now, Libby lifted her goblet and grinned as well. “Hear, hear! I will happily drink to that.”
    The reunited Black family clinked their glasses together.
    â€œMe too,” Clara felt obliged to say, wondering how she was going to make it through the weekend with her remaining sanity intact. Gazing out the music room window at the gently falling snow, she longed to be one of those snowflakes, swirling in the evening wind so peaceful and carefree, that come dawn would dissolve with the rising sun.
    â€œWell, what are you waiting for? Open the package,” Libby coaxed, nodding at it as she sipped her wine, knocking Clara out of her dismal reverie.
    Leo leaned over to get a better look. “There’s no return address?”
    â€œNope.” Clara peeled off the brown paper wrapping. “But maybe there’s a note or something inside.”
    â€œThat’s strange,” he remarked.
    When Clara finally managed to rip the cardboard box open and first glimpsed the astonishing object that lay inside, her jaw all but hit the Oriental area rug. “No . . . way . . .” she stammered in disbelief.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Libby. “Let’s see.”
    Flabbergasted, Clara slowly, and ever so carefully, removed the clear, foot-long, cylinder-shaped tube from the protective bed of Styrofoam peanuts it had been cushioned in, making sure not to damage it. She stared at the startling item with silent, genuine amazement.
    â€œWhat the heck is that ?” Leo asked.
    â€œYes, what is it?” echoed Libby, bending down