Secret Star Read Online Free PDF

himself to be a good judge of character and he pegged Kam as what they used to call a “gentleman.” Dangerous, maybe, but not to Tess. Had hurt some people, maybe, but would never take advantage of a girl.
    Benson Mathis recognized “gentleman” in Kamo because he strove for that same quality in himself. Do the right thing. Protect women and children. Raise the little girl to grow up sweet and strong.
    Pretty soon I’m gonna have to let her go .
    Still—in a few minutes he would call her in from the yard. Yeah, she had to grow up, but nobody could blame him for trying to put it off as long as he could.
    He relaxed in his wheelchair, closed his eyes, and sighed again.
    I’m a coward .
    Putting things off was one way of hoping they never had to happen. Though he was not consciously thinking of it, in the back of Benson Mathis’s mind there was a shadow. Always there whenever he thought about Tess. The reason he had never taken her to experts to have her memory loss treated. He wanted to put off the day she might remember. He hoped she would never remember. If she did, she might leave him that minute and never come back.
    Tess struggled with the heavy, wet clothing she had put in a tub of soapy water to soak. It was difficult to rinse it thoroughly and hang it up in the dark.
    Kamo had followed her out to the pump. “You know rhythms they never taught you in school,” he said.
    â€œHuh,” Tess grunted, tipping the heavy washtub. So she’d played along with the radio a lot, big deal. A heck of a lot of good knowing drum rhythms would ever do her. No way could she make a living playing drums, that was what Daddy said and so did everybody else. A person had to do something practical to get by in this world. Anyway, bands didn’t want girl drummers, not if they were guy bands, which they mostly were.
    Kam took one side of the washtub and helped her heave it under the pump, then started pumping. “You planning on going into music?” he called to her above the squeaking of the handle.
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œYou’re not?” His voice went high, but then he tried to soften it. “You got other plans?”
    Tess shrugged.
    â€œYou crazy, Tess?” She could barely see his face, but she could hear the fervor in his voice. “God, girl, you want to waste your life? You need to go into music. You’re talented.”
    Tess had never much liked being told what she “needed” to do. “I know people who can twirl a baton with their toes. It’s just about as useful.”
    â€œThis is different. My God, you were playing eight-thirteen time in there. And you’ve only had a few lessons? You must have a music gene the size of Milwaukee.”
    â€œYou can stop pumping.” She tipped out the rinse water, grunting and thinking sour thoughts: So how did Kamo Rojahin come to be an authority on eight-thirteen time and music genes? She straightened up to look at him. “You went to Juilliard or something?” she asked him, sarcastic.
    There was a silence. Then, “My father was a musician,” he said, his voice so low she could barely hear him.
    Oh, God . Instantly she felt awful. But at the same time she felt terrified.
    â€œTess, listen—”
    She turned away from him and started snatching soggy clothes out of the washtub and slinging them at the clothesline as fast as she could for a person who could not see what she was doing.
    â€œCould you just tell me what your father looked like?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou might be my sister, or my cousin.” He kept his voice very low; Daddy wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you care?” The words quavered. He tried to lighten up. “One way or another?”
    She had only known him a couple of days, and she was still half afraid of him, but yes, damn it, she did care. She cared unbelievably.
    She stood there with a pair of Daddy’s pull-on