Whispers of the Heart Read Online Free PDF

for their time.”
    â€œLet’s worry about that later, shall we? Sam and Josh are good buddies.”
    â€œDaddy, can I get a drink of water?”
    Brent and Autumn glanced at the child at the same time. His mouth smeared with chocolate, he looked like a clown.
    â€œWhoa, there, Timmy pal,” Brent said, laughing. “You need a wash along with that drink.”
    Autumn felt her own mouth tug into a smile. “Now you need the tissues,” she said, offering one from her pocket. “I’ll bet your mom would scold us both.”
    â€œMy mom can’t scold me. She’s in heaven,” Timmy said very casually as he accepted the tissue, swiping at his mouth and upper lip. Smears of chocolate remained on his cheek, on his chin, on his fingers.
    Autumn examined the little boy’s face, then Brent’s. The child couldn’t have known his mother very well. His eyes carried no sorrow, only knowledge of a fact. But Brent’s swift gaze told her he still felt a stab of grief.
    â€œI didn’t know that,” she offered slowly. “I’m sorry.”
    Brent nodded his acknowledgment of her murmur, then changed the subject.
    â€œThat tissue is never going be enough for the job,” he said with a chuckle. He bent to sweep the boy up to sit on his shoulders, the action making Timmy squeal with delight. “He needs a real wash. But thanks for the try. Guess I’d better take this littleguy in and clean him up. I’ll call you when I find out what Sam and Josh’s schedule will be.”
    â€œFine. Bye, Timmy. Nice to meet you.”
    â€œUh-huh. See you around, Miss Barbour.”
    â€œYou can call me Autumn.” She smiled at the boy.
    â€œOkay. See you around.”
    Thirty minutes later, Autumn put her favorite music CD on, and a new sheet of paper on her work board and began a sketch. Under her quick hand, a small child evolved, a donut in his hand. Large eyes took the shape of the father’s, and an impish tilt to his mouth indicated he was about to break out into laughter.
    Autumn had painted children only a few times, but she felt pleased at how this one came to life under her hand. The childish glee it brought to mind made her want to laugh along with him.
    After a long while, she stretched and put aside her materials. From the apartment below, she heard a muffled door slam. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon.
    Spring hadn’t called yet this morning, and Autumn’s loneliness crept up unexpectedly, powerful and yearning. She punched in Spring’s temporary number, eager to hear her sister’s voice, but she heard only an answering machine. She left a brief message.
    From her south window, slightly opened to catch the air, strains of country music drifted up from the market square. She didn’t need to see any of it to imagine the crush.
    Even the imagining caused her a queasy stomach.
    Quickly, she banished the thought from her mind. She put an exercise disk into her player, and followed the instructions with vigor.
    Later, she showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, wondering what her sister might be doing on this long Saturday afternoon. Or Kim Smithers, a friend from school that she and Spring had occasion to see. But Kim was married; she and Daniel were never home on Saturdays.
    What were Brent Hyatt and young Timothy doing this afternoon?
    This would never do, she told herself. She had things of her own to take care of. Like call Curtis Jennings, down at the gallery. Her first art teacher, Curtis frequently framed some of her work, and he had two of her paintings on display now. Perhaps he was ready for another one or two.
    She punched his number and he answered on the third ring. “Mirror Image.”
    â€œHi, Curtis, it’s Autumn. Are you swamped with customer overflow from the festival?”
    â€œWell, Autumn, how ya doin’? Wondered when you’d get around to calling after your move. Yeah, the