The Girl in the Window Read Online Free PDF Page A

ask questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
    Panic fluttered lightly inside her.
    Josh saw the sudden uneasiness in her eyes as alarm made her tighten and he sensed it would be wise to make his exit now, quickly, gently and easily, or risk losing the ground he’d made.
    “I’ll just be going now,” he said, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
    Relieved and a little regretful because she’d enjoyed his company, Beth said, “Thank you for fixing the mower.”
    “No problem, I was glad to help. If you need anything else, just ask.”
    Beth watched him go out the door, caught it so that it wouldn’t bang – something her father had hated – and walk across the grass between the properties. She liked the way he moved, strong, confident.
    She tried not to think about how good he’d looked or how kind he’d been.
    A chill went over her. She wrapped her arms around herself, walked through the house and up the stairs.
    For a moment she looked at the door at the end of the hall.
    Her parent’s bedroom.
    That door, like the one at the end of the hall, and the one to the cellar, was closed.
    Some doors she just wasn’t ready to open.

Chapter Four
     
    The morning dawned still and quiet, but for the birds. The first burst of song to greet the day had passed and now they twittered to each other softly. It had rained steadily for the past two days, keeping them under cover and everyone inside. Now they were once again free.
    So was Beth.
    In the paddock the horse seemed to be waiting, his head up. His mane and tail flagged in the breeze as he looked toward her house, almost as if he expected her.
    Or had missed her.
    Beth stood in the window, uncertain whether he could truly see her or whether it was only her imagination.
    Still, something in him called to her.
    Horses were herd animals. So were people, although most wouldn’t admit it. They wouldn’t call the groups of their friends or associations herds, but that was what they were, she thought.
    She supposed she was now the horse’s herd. As he was hers. And Josh Randall’s. 
    With a sigh, she walked out of the room, snagging an apple from the fruit basket on the counter and tucking it into the pocket of her light sweater. The morning had dawned cool, but it would warm later as the sun burned off the last of the clouds and fog. That warm light pierced clouds and fog to bath the fields in shimmering gold.
    Even so, she went barefoot, walking through the cold, wet grass. Her feet ached but there was also something freeing, something refreshing, about going without. For once, her feet weren’t trapped within shoes.
    As always, she gathered grass as she went, and she walked slowly so she wouldn’t frighten or startle the horse more than she already did.
    The horse stood, his ears and muscles twitching, watching her as she approached.
    At the last moment his nerve broke and he charged away as she reached the fence.
    Now she flinched only a little at the rejection. She hadn’t given up on him. Not yet. Ruth hadn’t give up on her.
    Resolutely, she held out the sheaf of grass on her open palm.
    The horse spun, danced uncertainly this way and that, before pacing around the paddock, circling her.
    She loved watching him, loved watching the smooth, seemingly effortless way he moved, almost seeming to float above the ground so gracefully.
    Was it her imagination that this time he’d come closer than he had before?
    She didn’t move, held breathless.
    Imagination or real?
    Again, close, closer…or so she thought, before he wheeled about to pace the other way.
    She didn’t move, tried not to breathe. She understood his fear. Her own had melted away.
    As still as a statue and as patient, she waited.
    Inside, observing from the kitchen window, Josh held himself immobile, too, breathless as he watched.
    Slowly, carefully, he reached for his cell phone, glanced at it only long enough to find Russell’s number.
    Against his ear he could hear as Russ’s phone rang and