Shadows Gray Read Online Free PDF Page A

that are ridiculously large.  We sit at the only table available; a cozy spot for no more than three people back in the corner of the shop.  I watch him sip his coffee for a moment as I stir sugar into mine.  Finally, if only to break the quiet, I speak.
    “That girl that you photographed, the pretty one with the blonde hair? She’s my sister.  I saw her here tonight.  It,” I stumble over the inadequacy of my words.  “It surprised me.”  No, it rocked me.  It paralyzed me.  It undid me. 
    “How long has it been since you’ve seen your sister?”  His question is so innocent, so appropriate, yet I want to laugh like a loon. How can I tell him I last saw her in 1741?  He’d pat me on my crazy head, pay for his coffee, and leave into the night.  And I wouldn’t blame him a bit.
    “I haven’t seen her since we were children.  I thought she was dead, actually.”  How to explain this?  “It’s only been my dad and I since I was four.”  Let him think we are a broken family.  Let him think my mother was there for Rose and we have simply been separated since a divorce.
    “Must have been quite a shock.  I’m sorry.” His words are kind, but his eyes remain unconvinced and skeptical.
    I wrap my hands around my hot mug of coffee.
    “I asked Prue to let you photograph her,” I blurt out suddenly, hungry for a change of topic.  Something safe and ordinary.  Something away from this mess of emotions that is eating me up inside.  “I don’t think I convinced her though.  You might have to take one when she’s not looking or something.”
    “And risk death and maiming?”  His wooly eyebrows shoot up into his too-long hair.  I fight an urge to smooth them back down.  “That’s okay; I don’t need to die for my art.  I did take some of you singing though, I hope you don’t mind.  You can see them if you like.  I’ll develop them tonight most likely.”
    “You don’t use digital?”
    “I’m an old fashioned guy. I like the process of developing the photos almost as much as I love taking them.  But anyway, maybe we can use the pictures I got of your sister to help you find her.  Something that would give us a clue to where she lives or who might know her or something.  I’ll be Cagney, you be Lacey.  Fred and Daphne?”
    My blank stare must have been a giveaway.  He laughed.
    “Sherlock and Watson then? Just what is your name anyway?”
    “Sonnet Gray.  But I get to be Sherlock.  I’d better get back to work.”  I stand up and wonder if I should shake his hand, hug him, something.
    “Goodnight, Gray,” he says. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll bring in those photos tomorrow night.”
    I’m so tired when I get off my shift and finish sweeping and mopping and counting the money in the register.  Matthias and Harry wait patiently for me, sometimes sitting at their table, sometimes helping me by taking out the trash and wiping down tables.  They don’t seem to have noticed my antics from earlier and they don’t seem as though anything is amiss.  They didn’t travel with us until about ten years ago and they never knew Rose.  They know the story though.  All the Lost have stories.  By the time I am able to leave the shop clean and ready for opening tomorrow morning, it’s after midnight.  I feel bad on nights like this because no one at home can fall asleep without me for fear of traveling on by themselves.  No one can sleep until we are all together.  Meli will be irritated because I know she has to watch the kids tomorrow, early.  We finish walking home in silence and enter our little brown house quietly.  I was right about Meli; she shoots me a glare and a tight-lipped goodnight before she shuts her and Will’s bedroom door a little more forcefully than necessary.  Prue gets her nightly glass of water and reminds me to run the dishwasher if I’m going to dirty a plate tonight.  Dad pecks me on the cheek with his dry lips and absentmindedly settles into