Watching Amanda Read Online Free PDF

outside.
    â€œGoing somewhere?” Nick asked, gesturing at Ethan’s suitcase by the door.
    â€œNew York City,” Ethan said.
    â€œWow! Really? That’s so cool! I’m dying to go to New York. You know people there?”
    â€œI used to,” Ethan said. “Now, just some business.”
    â€œI didn’t think you had any business,” Nick said, pulling off his hood and gloves. “My dad and I figured you were either a reclusive millionaire who didn’t have to work or a bounty hunter maybe, or even an escaped convict.”
    Ethan laughed. “None of the above. I’m just a regular guy who likes living a simple life, that’s all. Your toaster’s all fixed. Works like new.”
    Usually a whirlwind of motion, Nick froze. His gaze shot to the toaster on the kitchen table and at the plate of two chocolate-frosted Pop Tarts next to it, and he burst into tears.
    Usually when the boy was on the verge of tears, which was often, he blinked back the tears hard. A thirteen-year-old boy didn’t want to be caught crying. But this time, the tears fell down his cheeks, and he didn’t try to stop them.
    â€œNick? What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The toaster works great. The Pop Tarts are proof.”
    Nick sniffled. “I don’t know. I thought maybe ... I don’t know,” he said, covering his face with his hands.
    â€œYou thought maybe what?” Ethan asked.
    â€œI thought if the toaster didn’t work, then maybe that would almost be a good thing.” His face crumpled and he slid down to the floor on his butt, the tears streaming down his face. Sobs wracked his thin body.
    Ethan grabbed a box of tissues from the counter, then slid down next to Nick. “It would be a good thing because you could maybe start to forget a little? Not forget your mom, I mean, but forget that she’s gone?”
    Nick turned to Ethan in surprise. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.” Fresh tears welled up in his hazel eyes. “How’d you know?”
    Ethan leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “I lost someone close to me once. I know.”
    â€œYour mom?” Nick asked.
    â€œMy wife,” Ethan told him.
    And our unborn child.
    â€œWhen was that?” Nick asked.
    â€œThree years ago.”
    The boy thought for a moment. “Hey, that’s when you moved here. Three years ago.”
    Ethan nodded. “That’s right. Something about all this land, all this green—well, when it’s not covered in snow—all these trees and lakes and trails, is good for getting over hard stuff.”
    Nick chewed on his lower lip. “Are you over losing your wife?”
    Ethan thought of the wallet-sized photograph he kept of Katherine, three months pregnant and not yet showing, except for the tell-tale glow on her face, the joy in her smile.
    â€œNo, Nick. I’m not over it. But there are ways to help a person find peace with a terrible loss.”
    â€œWhat ways?” the teenager asked.
    â€œLike hiking. Like jogging. Like taking things apart and putting them back together. Like talking to those close to you.”
    Not that Ethan talked to anyone.
    Nick let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t talk to my dad. Every time I bring up Mom, he looks like he’s going to cry.”
    â€œYou know what, Nick? I think if you bring that toaster home to your dad, and whip up some of his favorite frozen waffles, he might take it as a sign.”
    â€œA sign of what?” Nick asked.
    â€œThat some things can be fixed.”
    The boy brightened. “You think so?”
    â€œYeah, I think so,” Ethan said. “You and your dad are both still here. And though you’ll always miss your mom, you can always find ways to honor her memory. Using that toaster that she loved is a fine way.”
    Or planting a tree in the