Passing Through Midnight Read Online Free PDF

house there? It was a puzzle that
intrigued him.
    Watching her, thinking about her, recalling Fletcher's
tale of his encounter with her over supper that evening, Gil was once
again reminded, forcefully and profoundly, of how lucky a man he really
was. Failed dreams and all.
    "You couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asked, speaking as
softly as he could so as not to frighten her. Not that it did any good.
She let loose a little yelp and was on her feet in one startled
movement. "Sorry. Clearing my throat would have scared you just as bad.
I figured why waste the breath."
    Dorie clasped her hands in front of her as they started to
shake. She recognized his voice and could vaguely perceive his tall
form in the moonlight. She didn't speak—couldn't with the
huge lump of fear stuck in her throat. She watched him take the fence
in one graceful leap, and fought her impulse to run inside and lock the
doors as he crossed the yard toward her.
    "Nice night for stargazing," he commented, coming up the
broad set of steps in the middle of the porch. "I was in the
neighborhood and thought I'd stop by and borrow a cup of sugar," he
said, covering all the excuses he could think of for dropping in
unexpectedly.
    She didn't smile, and she still looked frightened enough
to make him wish that he'd gone home without disturbing her. Yet,
something kept him moving toward her.
    "I'm sorry I startled you," he said again lightly. "I was
out walking and found myself in the middle of the pasture there.
I… thought I'd come see how you were."
    "I'm fine," she said. And she might have been if her heart
hadn't tripped into a snappy tattoo—as any woman's might in
the presence of a handsome man with eyes that asked questions and took
answers indiscriminately.
    To tell the truth, she might have managed several more
lifetimes without seeing him again. She wasn't going to try to convince
herself that the jitters within her were due to his being an unknown in
her life. She knew after his last visit that she was attracted to
him—poring over old pictures of him, waiting and watching for
him each day, enjoying the way he walked, listening for his voice.
However, being attracted to any man, ever again, wasn't part of the
question mark her life was in at that moment.
    "Shew. Those fields must have gotten bigger since I was a
kid. I used to run across them without getting winded. They wore me out
tonight. Can I just sit here on the swing for a few minutes? To catch
my breath?"
    "Of course."
    She wasn't going to make this easy for him. There was no
offer of a beer or a glass of water forthcoming. She simply stood there
holding her elbows while he made himself comfortable.
    "Spring at last, huh?" he said, slapping his hands down on
his knees as he scanned the new season in the darkness. He could feel
her watching him.
    "Seems like it," she said when his gaze returned to her,
clearly expecting some comment. "It's been a long winter."
    Weather discussed, and their acquaintance too short to
debate politics or religion, they fell into an uneasy quiet. They were
both completely aware of the other, their size and shape in the space
around the swing; each subtle movement or the lack thereof; breathing
patterns. Dorie was afraid he could hear her heart pounding.
    "I've spent a lot of time in this swing," he remarked,
simply to break the stillness. His voice seemed to carry for miles.
    "With Beth?"
    He turned his face to her sharply. She was frozen with
embarrassment. Where had that question come from?
    "You know about Beth?" he asked, amazed but not offended.
    "From pictures. In the house," she stammered, feeling like
an idiot. "There's a prom picture."
    He nodded. "They must have taken the wedding pictures with
them."
    "Where are they? The Averbacks. They left so many things
here, it's as if they're coming back soon. As if they're away on
vacation."
    "Mike and Henry both moved to Wichita after college, and
then… after Beth died, old Henry and Janice moved there,
too, to be