Spelldown by Karon Luddy Read Free Book Online

hardship for your family. I’ll look into it, but I can’t promise you anything.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Harrison, and please, please don’t mention this to my mother. She would be mortified.”
    He reaches for my hands and holds them in his own. His palms feel nice and smooth. “Not a word, I promise.”
    Mrs. Harrison waltzes back into the room. “We need to get going, Jelly Bean. Mrs. Cora’s having a fit with the kids.”
    Mr. Harrison gives her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be home by seven.”
    As we leave, Miss Sweden tells us to have a good weekend. She seems nice and efficient, but I sure wouldn’t want my husband to be around that much temptation every day.

6 vul·ner·ary
    1: of use in the healing of wounds
    2: a medicine of this kind
    The Harrisons and I are seated around the oval mahogany dining room table finishing up our meal of baked cod, green beans almondine, tossed salad, and homemade yeast rolls that Mrs. Cora prepared before she left. The sound track for
The Sound of Music
flows through the intercom speakers. It takes me back to the beginning of the movie when that wild Maria soars up the mountain, spins round and round, and belts out in her astonishing voice about the hills being
alive
.
    When the album gets to the part where Rolfe sings to Liesl in the gazebo, Mr. Harrison stands up, looks lovingly across the table at Mrs. Harrison, and starts singing about how her life is an empty page that men will want to write all over. And then Mrs. Harrison rises, acting like a young Liesl in love. She smiles sweetly and sings that she is sixteen going on seventeen, innocent as a rose. They swirl toward each other, dancing and blushing and sighing like teenagers. Mr. Harrison takes her into his arms and gives her a slow, gentle kiss. The kids, Celia and James, pay them no attention, but I’m tingling like a xylophone that’s been struck a thousandtimes. Except on TV and at the movies, I’ve never seen humans kiss close up like that.
    “Jiminy Cricket, it’s seven thirty!” Mrs. Harrison says. “My bathtub is calling me.”
    “I’ll clear the table.” Mr. Harrison stacks our plates and takes them to the dishwasher.
    “The food was delicious,” I say. “Mrs. Cora sure knows how to cook.”
    “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Mrs. Harrison says.
    “What’s for dessert?” Celia says.
    “The ambrosia’s in the fridge, and you two need to help clean up.”
    “How can I help?” I ask.
    “I forbid you to help,” Mrs. Harrison says. “You need to bask in your victory. Go into the den, put on another record, and relax.” She gives me a little hug. “You got that, Ace?”
    When Mrs. Harrison tiptoes back into the den in silk pajamas, the dishwasher is running, ambrosia is in our tummies, and all four of us are playing Chinese checkers. “Okay, you two, it’s time for bed.” She stands beside us with her arms crossed. “Right, honey?” she says to Mr. Harrison.
    “Yes, it is.” He stands up and stretches. “Besides, Karlene is way ahead of the rest of us.”
    “No, no, no!” The children grab him around the legs and try to pull him to the floor, but he roars and swings his head from side to side until Celia and James squeal and turn him loose.
    “All aboard the King of Narnia,” Mr. Harrison says in a deep, gravelly voice. Then he drops to the floor and gets on all fours. Giggling, Celia hikes up her leg and tries to get on her daddy’s back. James helps by pushing on her fanny, then he gets on and sits behind her.
    “Good night, Lucy.” Mrs. Harrison kisses Celia on the lips. “And you, too, Peter.” She kisses James on the forehead.
    Mr. Harrison roars, as if to say, “What about me?”
    “My dear King Aslan, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for taking these knuckleheads to Narnia all by yourself,” she says, caressing his face.
    He roars again and carries the children away.
    By eleven o’clock, I’m stretched out on a fluffy bed in the Harrisons’ guest room. I