The Shadow Girl Read Online Free PDF

Because of her arthritis, Mom hasn’t painted or sketched in more than a year. It’s a weird day for her to decide she should start again. “Can we talk?” I ask.
    “Not now, Lily.”
    Confused, I walk to the side of the shop. The building only has a couple of small windows up high on each side. Several cinder blocks are stacked against the outside wall. I lift one from the top of the pile and set it on the ground beneath a window, then step onto it and look inside the shop.
    Mom’s sitting on the floor with her back to me. A long, wide box is open in front of her. The big metal chest Dad used to store his tools. He kept it locked up in the shop’s storage closet because he was afraid that someone might break in and steal his tools. I can’t imagine why Mom would want to go through it, especially today.
    Several items lie scattered on the floor around her. I can’t make out what they are, but they don’t look like tools. Wondering why she lied to me, I tap on the window, causing Mom to startle and glance over her shoulder. She turns back around and scrambles to gather up the items and return them to the chest.
    “Mom!” I call out, my patience dwindling. “Can I just come in for a second? I need to talk to you about something.”
    “Okay.” Pushing to her feet, she closes the lid on the chest, then crosses to the door.
    I jump down from the cinder blocks and I’m rounding the corner as Mom comes outside. A breeze blows her silver curls into her face, but she doesn’t bother to push them back. “Is something wrong?” she asks, turning to pull the garage door down.
    “Yes, something’s wrong, Mom. Dad died yesterday. Did you forget?”
    Mom flinches. She stares at the door for a moment, still as a statue, and when she finally turns to me, her expression is fixed and unreadable.
    “I’m sorry I said that, Mom,” I say, my face burning.
    She takes my hand and pulls me to her, wrapping her arms around me. “Oh, Lily,” she breathes.
    Sobs shake my body. “What are we going to do without him?”
    “I don’t know, darling.” She rubs her palms up and down my back. “We’re going to miss him, but we’ll be okay.”
    I have a feeling that she’s trying to convince herself more than me. “It hurts so much,” I whisper.
    “I know.”
    “And Cookie . . . the vet said he can’t come home yet. Maybe we can visit him after we go to the funeral home to make arrangements for Dad’s—” I can’t even say the word. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. We need to plan his service. And write his obituary.”
    Mom goes rigid and pulls away from me. “Your father wanted to be cremated.”
    Wary of the sudden change in her, I say, “Okay. But the service—”
    “There won’t be a service. Or an obituary, for that matter.” Her voice is flat. “Your father and I have always been private people. He wouldn’t want any of that, and neither do I.”
    “We should do something ,”I say, bewildered by her attitude. “Maybe an informal gathering with his friends, at least. They’ll want to say good-bye.”
    “I mean it, Lily. No ceremony.”
    “But why?”
    “I told you.” She rubs her hands up and down her thin arms. “I’m going for a walk, okay?” Turning, she starts off toward the road.
    Confusion and anger slam into me so hard I have to pause to catch my breath before yelling, “We can’t just do nothing and forget about him! Don’t you even want to say good-bye to Dad?”
    “I already have,” she answers without looking back at me, her voice firm and final. But I hear her sobbing.
    I turn and start running, my boots pounding the ground as I pass Dad’s shop. Stumbling down the hill on the opposite side, I run until my lungs ache and my cheeks sting from the cool air. Until the cabin and Dad’s shop disappear behind me. Until I’m surrounded by trees so tall that they block out the white spring sun. When I finally stop, I’m panting. I bend forward at the waist, my hands