The Autumn Castle Read Online Free PDF Page A

studio still, finally painting
     something.
    Her back felt marginally better. She stretched up, felt a twinge. She carefully put one foot in front of the other and made
     it to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of water to drink by the light of the open fridge.
    Starving. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. She crouched to inspect the contents of the fridge and found some leftover spaghetti.
     Jude probably hadn’t eaten either. Perhaps she could make them both some dinner and take it down to the studio. She grabbed
     the bowl and backed up.
    Bang!
    Jude, in his housecleaning frenzy, had moved the table. Its corner struck the small of Christine’s back, sending a shooting
     barb of pain deep inside her spine. The bowl jumped out of her hands and crashed to the floor. Her fingers went to her back,
     searching vainly for the place to switch off the awful pain. A hot gush of white noise swept past her ears, making her head
     spin. Oh, no, she was going to black out. Her body wasn’t able to process the pain, was choosing oblivion instead. She felt
     for the table, tried to hold herself up, heard a twisted groan that she barely recognized as her own. A whoosh of fluttering
     wings battered her head. The world went white; then gray; then, finally, black.

CHAPTER THREE
    R elief. Instant, marvelous, floating relief. I must be dead.
    Because never, in the past thirteen years, had she been completely without the pain. She savored it, the loose drifting freedom
     in her back. Relief, glorious relief. It was overwhelming and intoxicating and—
    Wait a minute. Where the hell am I?
    Christine opened her eyes and was dazzled by golden slanted sunshine. A canopy of trees stretched above her, their leaves
     stained with the tawny streaks of autumn. She lay on a bed of leaves; the world smelled damp and earthy.
    This must be a dream: she had blacked out and slipped into a dream. But could that be right? She had been unconscious a number
     of times in her life and had never dreamed, not even in her long coma. Unless she had dreamed and hadn’t remembered on waking.
     The thought struck her heart sadly: to know such pleasure yet not remember was tragic.
    She sat up, determined to memorize everything. But the forest yielded more details than she could commit to memory. This dream
     landscape was perfectly realistic. For a startled moment, Christine wondered if she had somehow strayed down to a remote corner
     of the Tiergarten in her stupor, and fallen asleep among the leaves. But no, the trees were too vast and the air was too quiet.
    A flutter in the branches behind her caught her attention. She peered into the dark, but could see nothing. An instant later,
     the fluttering approached from her left. She cried out as a shining black crow swooped down and plucked at her scalp. Cowering
     under her hands, she waited for it to return. But it settled on a branch nearby, gazing at her, one of her long brown hairs
     in its beak. Christine rubbed her head. Why did that hurt, when her back didn’t? The bird spread its wings and took off. This
     was the most vivid dream she had ever experienced.
    She rose, reveling in the easy movement. The trees thinned out a few hundred feet in the distance so she headed in that direction,
     walking a few paces and then running, a laugh on her lips. The trees parted and she emerged in a rocky ravine, bathed in golden
     light. Across the slope was a path, leading her eye up to . . .
    A crooked little castle.
    “My God!” she exclaimed, laughing. Its slender twisted turrets, long, fluttering flags, and curved stone walls hovered in
     the distant golden mist of setting sun. What an imagination she had. If Jude had dreams like this, he’d never have painter’s
     block again. Then she smiled to herself. Jude could dream this and still he would paint monochrome abstracts.
    She picked her way over the slope toward the path. It was difficult; she was still wearing the black dress she had worn to
     work that day,