The Awakening Read Online Free PDF Page A

the songwriting that was her true love and passion in life—as far as her career went. Living with her parents wasn’t difficult, their home in Maine was huge, and she had an entire wing of the place to herself—a carriage house that had been beautifully remodeled into an apartment.
    She had been away for six months, wondering whether or not to sign the divorce papers, when he had shown up. And when they had come together then, he had been passionate, and honest, forgetting pride completely. There had never been anything between him and the flutist, any other musician, or any other woman, period. He couldn’t live without her, and he wanted her back.
    She could have melted on the spot, and in her way, she did, throwing herself into his arms, practically sobbing, ready to strip him then and there. And since then, they had talked, about everything, and she felt both secure and cherished. They’d gone back to New Orleans, and she had never been more certain about a decision in her life. She loved Finn; she would forever.
    Still, she wished she hadn’t screamed here, in Salem. Despite their deep commitment, the bread episode was still there, back burner. Forgiven by both of them, and yet, a memory that was not comfortable.
    It was amazing that a rumor had come so far, all the way to Massachusetts. Here, where she was known, as well as her family.
    She hadn’t actually grown up in Salem, but in close-by Marblehead. And though she was able to see many members of her extended family, they hadn’t come for that reason. Finn had come home one day to tell her he’d received a really top quality financial offer to entertain at a hotel in Salem for the entire week before Halloween. A man named Sam Tartan, head of entertainment and community relations for the new hotel, had read an article about them, and had thought they’d be perfect. Finn had been a little skeptical at first, wanting to make sure they hadn’t received the offer because Megan’s family had pulled strings.
    They hadn’t. Neither of her parents had ever heard of Sam Tartan. When she’d made an anonymous phone call, she’d learned that the hotel entertainment exec hailed from somewhere in the Midwest.
    The money was truly impressive; the prestige of being offered such a solo gig was equally persuasive. With a fair amount of excitement, they had accepted the offer.
    First, they were going on a vacation, taking the honeymoon they’d never had before, and spending time in Florida. Sunny Florida, and then spooky old Salem. While they were gone, the workmen could do some of the necessary repairs on their home in the French Quarter, and it would all be perfect. Perhaps Finn hadn’t realized just how far rumors had gone, and that her family members would all stare at him, wondering if he was a wife beater, if Megan shouldn’t have stayed as far away from him as she could.
    She turned, wanting then to make amends, wishing she’d never touched that loaf of bread.
    To her surprise, he was no longer lying awake. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and he was breathing deeply and evenly.
    â€œFinn?”
    He didn’t answer.
    Megan slipped out of bed, frowning, but he still didn’t awaken. She walked over to the big, overstuffed antique chair by the fireplace and found her terry robe, wrapping it tightly around her. She pulled back the draperies to the balcony door, hesitated, then slipped out.
    October in Massachusetts. A cool breeze was softly moving, but it wasn’t uncomfortably cold outside. The sky was beautiful and strange, a deep blue, almost black in places, and light, almost ethereal in others. As she looked down at the street below, she saw a whirl of fog, and she found herself remembering the words of the crusty old storyteller who had been at the fireside tale-telling earlier in town.
    Ah, but though those caught, hanged, and pressed to death, as old Giles Corey, were most