Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

sheet of ice he was treading, but he pushed on carefully. “She knows me. We used to be friends. I think it would be good for her to see a familiar face.”
     
    It was a leap, a stretch. Amalie hadn’t looked the least bit happy to see him, but that was nothing to do with her and everything to do with him.
     
    Garrison hesitated, then said, “You can’t be friends again, Isaiah. I’ve already told you that before. She can’t have friends. She’s not ready.”
     
    “I don’t mean to be her friend.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just think if she associated with someone she felt comfortable with she might relax and take better to her treatments.”
     
    Skin puckered between Garrison’s eyebrows. His lips pursed in deliberation and Isaiah felt a stab of premature triumph.
     
    “That’s an interesting theory,” he mused, long fingers reaching up to tap lightly on his chin. “I’ll give it some consideration.” His smile returned. He smacked Isaiah in the shoulder. “Maybe you’d do better in the medical profession.”
     
    Isaiah said nothing, but offered a small smile.
     
    ***
    What on God’s green earth possessed him to make such an offer? On what rational plain did his decision solve anything? He swore to himself he would keep away from her. He swore he would never do this to her again. What was he thinking?
     
    He won’t go through with it . Garrison was nothing if not a logical, rational man. He would see how wrong this theory was and refuse it.
     
    “Ugh!” With a frustrated snarl, he thrust his hand through his hair. He slammed his free hand into the corridor wall and slumped in with it until his brow rested against the fist. His eyes closed.
     
    Stupid! He was so stupid!
     
     

Chapter 4
    Garrison

     
    Garrison studied the serene face of his wife, traced the elegant curves of her sharp cheekbones, pointy chin and the way her lips resembled a small heart, even when she smiled. In the picture, her dark hair was swept back in a shiny, coiffed knot at the top of her head. A large lily clipped the left side, just over her ear. Abigail had always loved lilies. Before Amalie was born, she would spend hours in the gardens, elbow deep in dirt, smelling of overturned soil, sunshine, sweat and grass. She always had dirt under her nails, twigs in her hair and mud smearing her clothes, but she would be smiling as if every moment was a sip of sunlight and she couldn’t get enough. After her death, Garrison had the gardens torn out, replaced by slabs of winding concrete, marble fountains and ivory statues. Nothing of Abigail’s gardens remained. He had made sure of that. The only reminder of her now was the daughter she’d left behind and the picture.
     
    He considered removing the picture from his desk. It was the only existing image of his wife. He’d made certain of that and so many times he started to toss it away, but she was a reminder now, a reminder that he couldn’t afford to be weak, that he couldn’t allow himself be blindsided again. If she had come to him sooner with her sickness, had given herself to his capable hands, had let him cure her…well, there was, no use rehashing unnecessary memories now. She was dead and he was not and he was wiser.
     
    “You did this,” he told the glossy frame. “You left me no choice.”
     
    Abigail just smiled from behind her glass prison, frozen forever as the woman he had fallen in love with, married and had a daughter with. Frozen in the lie.
     
    Selfish. That’s what she was. How could she expect him to ever forgive her for the betrayal, for the unjustifiable audacity? He had given her everything, a beautiful home with no expense spared, love, attention, a daughter he hadn’t wanted. But she had asked and he, ever the obliging husband, had indulged her. Then she went and left him with a defective child.
     
    He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
     
    He loved Amalie. Lord knew he did, but she made it nearly impossible to do so.