Everything but the marriage by Dallas Schulze Read Free Book Online

remember it. A few hours one way or another wouldn't make any difference.
    Devlin kept an eye on her from his perch on the ladder. Certainly no host could complain about her being an overly demanding guest, he thought with a half smile. She'd put on the clothes he gave her and settled herself on the half-finished front porch. She'd been there for two hours now, and as near as he could tell, she hadn't moved in all that time.
    She hadn't questioned his allowing her to stay. There wasn't any arrogance about her acceptance of his hospitality. If he'd told her to leave, he was sure she'd have accepted that with the same indifference. She just didn't care where she was.
    She sat in the lawn chair that constituted his full supply of outdoor furniture, her hands in her lap, her feet neatly together, and stared at nothing in particular. For a while, it had been interesting to try to guess how long it would be before she moved. But for the past hour, he'd found himself watching to see if she was still breathing.
    Depression, Ben had suggested. Comatose seemed like a better description. Devlin set a shingle in place and steadied a nail for the hammer blow. Out of the comer of his eye, he could see Annalise, still as a statue. Was it possible for someone to sit down and simply go into a coma?
    Distracted by the thought, he brought the hammer down, missing the nail by an inch and his thumb by a

    much less comfortable margin. Startled, he released the nail, and both it and the shingle dropped past the ladder to join the debris on the ground.
    The curse he muttered was succinct and obscene. He glared at Annalise. She couldn't just sit there. That was all there was to it.
    She didn't stir as he climbed down the ladder. It wasn't until he stopped on the porch directly in front of her that she seemed to become aware of his presence. She blinked slowly and tilted her head to look up at him.
    "Can you do me a favor?"
    The question seemed to confuse her. He didn't know if it was because she didn't understand him or because she couldn't imagine what favor she could do him.
    "A favor." It was more a flat repetition than an agreement, but Devlin took it as such. Maybe if she had a reason to do something, she'd come out of that damned shell a little.
    "I'm expecting something in the mail," he lied without hesitation. "Could you walk down to the end of the road and see if it's here yet?"
    She blinked at him again, her eyes going from his face to the smooth dirt road that stretched out behind him.
    "I'd appreciate it," he said, in case she was thinking of refusing. In truth, he doubted she was thinking anything at all.
    After a moment, she nodded. It took a moment more for her to stand up and move uncertainly off the

    porch. She seemed slightly confused to find herself doing something more than staring into space.
    Devlin frowned, wondering if he should have left her alone. He probably should have called Ben first thing this morning. It was obvious she had real problems. Maybe a hospital would be the best place for h^, someplace where people understood what she was thinking, what she was feeling. But he couldn't quite separate hospital and prison in his mind. And the last thing he wanted was to be a part of anyone bdng committed—mstitutionalized.
    It wasn't as if he'd sent her on a walk across the continent, he roninded himself. From the ladder, he could see the half mile to the end of the road, so he could ke^ an eye on her. And since he didn't know of any dangerous animals lurking in the fields of Indiana, the worst that was likely to happ«i to her was that she'd have a walk on a beautiful spring day.
    Part of Annalise was aware of the beauty around her. Sunshine poured down on the empty fields, a warm golden shower that bathed everything m sight. She could feel the same sunshine on her shoulders, warming her face. But the warmth couldn't penetrate to the chill she carried deep inside.
    When she'd locked away the part of her that felt pain, she