Shelter Read Online Free PDF Page A

arm. She had the softest hair…
    “I want answers,” she said. “I just wanna know why…” she slapped her thighs in a helpless gesture. “Why this could happen. I’m so fucking angry .”
    Didn’t grief happen in stages? Hadn’t he heard that? “I know,” he soothed, no longer able to resist the urge to push her hair back. He smoothed it along the crown of her head with his whole hand, as gently as if her were stroking a baby bird. “Shit happens that we can’t control,” it was a piss-poor justification, but it was all he had. “ Awful, terrible shit.”
    She made an amused snorting sound. “Mom wants me to ‘pray about it’. She’s tried to drag me to church. Sh e took me crib shopping today - ”
    “She what? ” Carlos leaned forward in his chair. Diane Harris had never liked him much, and he didn’t blame her – her attitude had always been the product of his and Sam’s proximity to Alma. She was a hardass, sure, and maybe too superficial for his tastes, but taking Alma out baby shopping with her man five weeks in the ground? That bordered on cruelty.
    “You know my mom,” she dismissed with a wave. But her voice quavered. He had no doubt that the shopping trip had not ended well, and that it was the exact reason she’d sought him out on a work night, looking for ‘answers’ he wasn’t willing to give her.
    “I’m sorry,” she stood up suddenly, her chair screeching back across the concrete patio.
    She moved fast, but Carlos was just that much faster, snagging her wrist before she could go dashing away. “Hey.” Her hair fanned out around her when she whirled in his direction. “It’s fine. You don’t have to run off.”
    Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He wondered if she’d ever stop being on the verge of crying.
    “You can come talk to me anytime, Alma. I promise,” he told her, wishing she’d take him up on the offer.
    She nodded and he realized his thumb was brushing lightly ov er the pulse point on her wrist in a soothing, unconscious gesture. When he released her, she lingered a moment, offered him a tremulous smile, and walked slowly back toward the gate. It was all he could do not to follow her: bad enough his eyes did.
     

 
     
     
     
    3
     
    The Harrises belonged to an unofficial social group called the old Marietta folks. No dues, no meetings, no membership cards or plaques or potluck dinners, but an unwavering sense of pride among a group of Marietta High School graduates who had remained in town, were still friends, and all dwelled in that upper tier of the middle class where lawn service was a must, but a Mercedes was a luxury. The homes just off the town square were old and beautiful, tucked away on sprawling lots amid cozy backstreets lined with trees.
    Tom and Diane had a white clapboard colonial on a pie-shaped, full acre lot. This time of year, the oaks, cherries and maples were vibrant pops of orange and red against the lush green expanse of the lawn. It had a long, curved drive that gave the property a grand look, the house’s two and a half stories and three chimneys standing vigil over the street below.
    The backyard was a maze of vegetable and perennial gardens, bordered by white picket fences that dripped honeysuckle vines. As a little girl, Alma had spent countless hours playing hide-and-seek amongst the benches and shrubs, had pitched pennies into the lion fountain and made wishes with eyes closed tightly. Diane had spent years cultivating her oasis: her iris, roses, and topiaries. There was a fat yellow koi that lazed about the pond Alma swore was as old as she was. And at the very back of the lot, an arbor grown over with wisteria, like something from The Secret Garden , was supposed to have been the spot for her nuptials. But she’d run off and married Sam instead. At the courthouse.
                  Through a golden autumn twilight, her breath fogged the window pane as she stared through the French doors of her parents’