The Other Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

wind whispered past the windowpanes of the cupola.
    Hurry, Leslie . . . find me.
    It was just like the first day, when she had come up here alone. The wind had whispered then, too, and told her to come and live here. She’d been convinced that this house and no other house would do.
    Her feet moved closer to the window until her face was pressed against the pane. The shadow seemed to wave in a greeting and then vanished like a cloud of smoke, dissipating in the air.
    Leslie squinted, but she could see nothing now. The flash and the shadow were there no longer, but she stood watching until her eyes hurt from the bright sun. It was hushed and golden here and time seemed to stand still, waiting for something to happen.
    “Leslie? Leslie . . . where are you?”
    Their voices were faint, coming from downstairs. They were home! Mom and Mike were home and Leslie was suddenly eager to escape the small, windowed room. Something about the shadow had been vaguely unsettling and she shivered as she fled quickly down the steep steps. She wasn’t going to tell anyone about the shadow and the wind whispering to her. If she told, Mom would say she was being silly and Mike would laugh and explain it all somehow, but they wouldn’t really understand. No, she wouldn’t tell anyone that her imagination had run away with her again.

THREE
    “Mike, this is simply decadent!” Karen grinned as she rolled over and stretched, her long, graceful body hugging the sheets. “I feel like I’m playing hookey. You know we’ve got a million things to do today.”
    “This is more important.” Mike put on a serious face. “It’s an old family custom. When you get a new bed, you have to break it in right.”
    “This bed isn’t exactly new, but you do have a point.” Karen smiled, reaching out to cover his hand with her own. “Just look at this wonderful canopy. Do you realize what we’d have to pay for an antique like this? Rob told me it probably belonged to the Appletons, the family who built this place.”
    “Not now, Karen.” Mike put a finger to her lips. “Antiques are the last thing on my mind. Let’s forget all about the house for today. Is it a deal?”
    “But—” Karen felt a shiver that ran the length of her body as Mike’s lips touched hers. She supposed he was right. They both needed to forget about the house and the restoration for a while. They’d talked of nothing else since they moved in, three weeks ago.
    Mike’s fingers caressed her lightly and Karen sighed with pleasure. Lying in this beautiful bed in the middle of a warm summer afternoon was wonderful. Lugging it down from the third floor this morning had been worth all the effort. It made the whole room into something special, into something out of another time. The four cherubs on the carved mahogany newel posts were a work of art, and the original canopy overhead made it a truly authentic piece of period furniture.
    Mike’s fingertips were stroking now, smoothing her hair and then the satiny skin of her shoulders. She tried to concentrate on him and forget about all the work that needed to be done.
    “Honey?” Mike nibbled at her ear. His lips traced a path to her neck and desire filled her mind. Then her arms were reaching out for him eagerly and she was lost in the joy of pure sensation.
    “Mmmm . . . that’s better.” Mike smiled as he felt her response. At least her mind wasn’t on antiques now! It was almost like old times, when swift passion came upon them at delightfully unexpected moments. He remembered having her in his first darkroom at the studio, on the couch in the living room, and once in the kitchen when Leslie had been tucked into bed. Just as soon as the house was finished, it would be like that again. He’d have his darkroom right here and she’d be at home, precisely where he wanted her. Now that she didn’t have to work, he’d have a full-time wife and mother for his child. It would be a peaceful time for both of them; finally