Fall from Grace by L. R. Wright Read Free Book Online

instance.”
    â€œYes I’m married,” said Annabelle primly, “and I have several children, too.”
    â€œSeveral?” said Bobby. “What’s that, ‘several’? Whaddya mean, ‘several’? How many’ve you got?”
    â€œThree.”
    â€œThree’s not ‘several,’ ” said Bobby, and he stretched out his arm and pressed his hand against the side of the house, leaning there. “Three’s three.”
    â€œAll right then, three,” said Annabelle. “Now I’m very busy, Bobby, and you have to leave right away.” He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and he was tanned very brown. She wondered where he’d been since he got out of jail. She thought he must have had an outdoor job of some kind, to have gotten so brown.
    Finally he shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and she watched him amble across the yard toward the road, where a small blue car was parked. She was still watching when he reached it, and somehow he knew this because just before he got there, while still sauntering away from her, he lifted his arm and gave a wave; and then quickly turned to look at her over his shoulder. He shook his head, laughing, to see Annabelle still standing there.
    She was flustered by her encounter with Bobby Ransome, and went into her garden to calm herself.
    It was a very private place, virtually surrounded by trees and brush, about thirty feet behind the house. It was small, about twenty feet long by fifteen feet wide, including the small lawn she had built there, with strips of grass purchased from the garden shop. At the east side of the garden, where it shouldered into the hillside, was a stand of alder trees. On the other three sides there was brush, which Annabelle kept cut back, and down, so that it gave privacy to her garden without keeping out the sunlight.
    She looped the handle of her pail over her left hand, took a pair of pruning shears in her right, and began a slow inspection. Carefully she removed several dead blooms from one of her rosebushes, cutting them off at the first five-leaflet leaf that faced away from the center of the plant. The flowers were oyster-colored. They fascinated Annabelle, who had never seen roses that color before. She also had a bright yellow rose, a dark red one, two pink ones, and one that was the color of an apricot.
    She was wearing a blue-and-white-striped sundress, and her feet were bare. Her back was sweating, and under her arms. Annabelle lifted her face and closed her eyes and stood quietly, feeling the heat of the sun, listening to the bees nosing at her flower beds and the birds murmuring in the alder trees. Her feet seemed to be gripping the earth like roots. She let her body sway slightly; the smell of roses and crisp dry grass was thick and sweet. She heard leaves rustle and opened her eyes, slowly, and with a sleepy smile turned to greet her child, whichever one it might be who was coming through the brush.
    But it wasn’t a child.
    The smile stayed on her face, forgotten, as she looked at him. He was holding branches apart with both hands. He stepped toward her and let go of them and they sprang together again, closing the gap. Now they were together, she and Bobby, in her garden.
    Annabelle didn’t think to say anything to him. He was looking at her intently, and he seemed much nearer to her than he actually was. She wondered why they weren’t speaking, either of them. She wondered what he’d heard about her, since he got back. She felt the smile tremble on her face and thought it was going to disappear, but instead it changed.
    Oh, well, thought Annabelle, only vaguely aware of having made a decision.
    She looked up into his green eyes, and there grew inside her joy and mischief and exhilaration. She allowed her smile to bloom. She saw that Bobby was holding his breath, but Annabelle breathed deep and slow, giving him her blazing smile.
    â€œI didn’t say goodbye,”