Still Waters Read Online Free PDF Page A

striking his face, glancing off his prominent cheekbones, sending shadows dipping into the creases at the corner of his eyes, pooling dark crescents underneath. He looked tired. He looked very tired. “After that, we were….”
    “Family.” Jenna spoke without realizing it. “I know.”
    He continued to look at her without speaking. Suddenly she was very aware of how alone they were. Isolated by the rain, united by their grief. She shifted. “God knows how little we’ve both had of that. Family, I mean.”
    She saw the chilly expression on his face. “I didn’t mean anything against your father,” she said hurriedly. “He was a very dear man. But — ”
    “I know. It’s all right.”
    He came and sat down beside her on the swing, leaving very little space between them. “I guess neither of us had much luck in the family department.”
    “Until we met Bud.”
    “Right.”
    Adam chuckled. “Do you remember the time Denny broke his ankle falling out of that tree? That time the four of us were playing in the McKennas’ backyard?”
    Jenna put a hand to her mouth. “I had completely forgotten about that! Oh, poor Denny! None of us believed he was really hurt, so we made him walk all the way home on a broken ankle. I’m surprised Kitty ever forgave any of us!”
    “Oh, she was plenty mad for a while. And Denny milked it for all he was worth, of course. ‘Adam, get me a Coke.’ ‘Bud, I’m bored; how about a comic book?’”
    “You think I got off easy?” Jenna laughed. “I was the girl, remember? ‘Jenna, make me a sandwich. Jenna, fluff my pillows!’” She laughed again. “That boy was such a brat.”
    Their smiles faded.
    “He’s been gone almost three years,” Jenna said sadly.
    Adam nodded slowly. “He was a good kid. Reckless, though. Never did have much sense.”
    “Not like Bud.”
    “No, Bud had enough good sense for all of us.” Adam smiled at her. “He married you, after all.”
    “Well, I don’t know if that was good sense. Inertia, maybe. We’ve all known each other so long….”
    “It was good sense,” Adam said, not looking at her. “Trust me.”
    They sat in silence, swinging gently.
    Moments passed. Words gathered between them, unspoken, building up charge like static electricity. Jenna felt the hair on her arms rising.
    At last Adam spoke. “Did you ever feel like there was something you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure if — ”
    “Don’t,” Jenna said softly. She was afraid to look at him, afraid of what would happen if she let her eyes meet his.
    But he evidently couldn’t stop himself. “From the moment I got the message about Bud, all I could think about was getting to you.”
    “Don’t,” she said again.
    “Trying to get here, to be with you. To stand next to you when they put Bud in the ground. To hold your hand. To be with you. It was all I could think about.”
    She squeezed her eyes closed. “Don’t.”
    “Because I knew you would need me. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Jen. I’m so very, very sorry.”
    The tears were starting again. She could feel them in her throat, swelling it, climbing up to press between her closed eyelids. She didn’t want this. Not now. She couldn’t take it. If she started crying again, she wasn’t sure she could stop.
    Then he touched her hand, and the tears dried up like magic. She turned and looked up at him.
    No, it wasn’t magic. It was something baser, more real, more elemental. Gravity…electricity…chemistry…
    * * *
    It had always been there. Jenna’s senior year, 1944. Bud was in boot camp, preparing to go to war. Adam had joined the Navy the year before. He had only come home for his father’s funeral.
    That day had been a scene eerily similar to this one. But it was fall, then. The leaves had just passed their peak, and the sky that late afternoon was the deep turquoise it only turned in the autumn. After the burial they had gone for a walk in the park. They found a dry bench and sat, not