Beyond the Grave by Mara Purnhagen Read Free Book Online Page A

could change. I really did want to have lunch with her. Noah was at school every day until three-thirty and Dad was usually with Mom. It would be good not to have to eat alone every single day.
    Class ended and I shut my notebook. My momentary good mood had faded with the thought of Dad sitting by Mom’s bedside. He was still asking me when I was going to visit. It would need to be soon—I was running out of valid excuses.
    I was typing a quick text to Avery— survived first class, will check on Dante later —when I became aware that someone else was still in the classroom. I glanced to my left, where a tall, lanky guy was gathering up his books. He appeared to be about twenty and was dressed in khaki pants and a white T-shirt. He looked up, and our eyes met.
    â€œHey.” His voice was deep but friendly. I nodded, put my phone away and checked my schedule.
    â€œNeed help?” the guy asked. “Finding your next class, I mean.”
    â€œNo, thanks.” I held up my schedule. “There’s a very informative map on the back of this thing.”
    â€œYeah, well, if you need anything…” His voice trailed off. Was this guy hitting on me? Avery had told me all about the perils a freshman coed faced. She said the upper classmen referred to them as “fresh meat.” Luckily, she had Jared by herside at every party, so she didn’t have to worry too much about being a target for drunk and disorderly frat boys.
    â€œI’m good,” I assured the guy. “Thanks anyways.”
    He nodded and walked out of the room. I waited a moment before following. As I approached the door, something on the floor caught my eye. It was a business card. A very familiar one. I knelt down and picked it up. Potion was typed across the cream-colored front in swirly purple letters.
    â€œWeird.” Potion was a store I knew well, but it was located about an hour away. It seemed strange that Beth’s business card had found its way here, to my classroom.
    I flipped the card over, hoping to find a message, but it was blank. Had the too-helpful guy dropped it? Or did it belong to someone else? It was an odd coincidence.
    When I returned home after my day of classes, I found Trisha sitting at the kitchen counter with over a dozen plates arranged in front of her. On each plate sat a single piece of cake.
    â€œI was planning on having an apple,” I said, pulling up a stool. “But this looks good, too.”
    Trisha gave me a weary smile. “I’m trying to decide on the wedding cake.” She glanced toward the living room and raised her voice. “But someone is refusing to help me even though it’s his wedding, too!”
    I heard a chair push back. Shane appeared in the doorway a moment later. “I told you, I’m not a cake person. Whatever you decide will be fine with me.”
    â€œWe’re supposed to be doing this together!” Trisha seemed genuinely upset. “We need to make a decision.”
    I hated to see Trisha stressed, and not just because she was Noah’s mother and Shane’s fiancée. She had been a comforting presence in my life after the attack, handling everything we were too numb to remember. She had answered ourphone—which never seemed to stop ringing—responded to an avalanche of email messages, and still found time to make dinner for everyone. She had stepped in long after the initial wave of concerned friends and neighbors had returned to their lives, leaving behind half-eaten casseroles and promises to check in on us.
    When Shane had announced that he had proposed and Trisha held out her hand to reveal a single sparkly diamond, it was the first time in months that everyone in my family felt a real moment of happiness. Annalise and I hugged her, Dad shook Shane’s hand, and we all sipped champagne from coffee mugs because we didn’t have wineglasses. The wedding preparations had begun the very next day,