DEATH BY HONEYMOON by Jaden Skye Read Free Book Online Page A

clear your mind and bring you back to reality.”
    Cindy felt little drops of perspiration forming over her forehead and chin. He was suggesting she go to therapy because she thought Clint’s death might not have been an accident? . Didn’t she have a right to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a way that made sense to her? Did that mean she was crazy?
    She wondered what Mallord thought. He had a wonderful reputation, lived simply with his wife in a small house the parish provided, and spent long hours with his congregation.
    “Do you agree with him?” Cindy asked Mallord pointedly.
    He didn’t answer off the cuff, but paused, and finally said, “Therapy can be good when needed. So can prayer and contemplation. And time always has a way of showing us what has truly gone on.”
    Cindy now saw why Clint had liked Tom so much.
    “Just the way the ocean brings everything up to shore,” he continued, “the truth cannot help but be brought to light.”
    Greerson had enough. He got up and brushed off his suit.
    “Well, thanks for the sermon,” he said laughingly, “but I have a long trip back to the city tonight. There’s a lot of unfinished business to take care of. We have plenty to do to deal with Clint’s loss.”
    Cindy felt oppressed by his presence in the room and was tremendously relieved that he was leaving . “Thank you for coming,” she said politely.
    “It’s my pleasure,” he answered, looking directly at her. “And, as I said, don’t let stray thoughts drive you crazy. You are not alone with this. I’ll certainly be around.”
    When he left it felt as if a dark cloud had lifted and the evening light could shine in.
    *
    Later that night, in bed, her head swimming, Cindy noticed the little package Tom Mallord gave her, sitting on the end table. It was beautifully wrapped, in gold paper. She reached over and opened it slowly.
    Inside was a small Bible. Touched to the core, Cindy cradled it in her hands, remembering the wonderful funeral service Tom Mallord had conducted for Clint. The pews at the funeral service were filled to the brim, and a haunted silence filled the place. Tom Mallord spoke simply, saying no one could fathom the ultimate will of God, or really understand how something like this could happen. But we all could reach out to one another and offer kindness and solace. That much was in our grasp. Cindy’d felt comforted by his honesty.
    Some of Clint’s friends got up and spoke about what a wonderful person he’d been and how they couldn’t imagine life without him. Cindy shivered the entire time and could not say a word. Neither could Clint’s mother, who sat in the front in a black, silk suit, staring ahead, in subdued rage.
    Clint’s sister Marge, dressed in dark blue silk, pearl earrings and a pearl necklace, spoke in measured tones. Cindy didn’t believe a word she said and the sound of her voice grated at her. Clint’s father sat doubled over for most of the service. When he got up at the end of the ceremony to shake hands, he couldn’t seem to remember anyone’s name.
    Cindy looked down at the Bible, opened it up and ruffled through the pages. Could it possibly hold some answers for her? Could anything really give her solace in a time like this?
    She opened the book randomly, and it opened on Psalm 84. She read it slowly. Those who pass through the Valley of Thorns, they transform it into a wellspring. With blessings the rain will cloak it. They advance from strength to strength .
    The Valley of Thorns , she thought. Yes, that was what this was. But she didn’t see how she would ever get out of it.
    *
    Greerson was standing there in a gray raincoat, carrying a black umbrella, laughing uncontrollably. She ran up to him to tell him to open the umbrella, that it was going to start pouring. He just kept laughing and paid no attention. She grabbed the umbrella from him, yanked her hardest to get it open. He pulled it back, enraged. Before long the two of them were in a