Fear to Tread by Lucy Blue Read Free Book Online

plates. “Let’s eat in the living room. There’s a CD I want you to hear.” She led her to a pair of rustic-looking rockers set in the deep bay window, surrounded by lush, trailing vines. “Nate and some of his friends have a jazz band—the Wizards of Rhythm.” She laughed. “Bless them, but they stink.”
    The shadows in the room had grown long when Sylvia said Nate would be home soon. Laura looked at the clock. It was after four. The day seemed to have evaporated. “The three of us should go to dinner,” Sylvia said. “Have you tried the new Thai place on the corner?”
    “No, I haven’t.” She and Jake had bickered playfully about trying it when the sign had first gone up. She loved Thai food; he hated—had hated it. “I should go.” She suddenly realized she was wearing the same plaid flannel pajama pants and sweatshirt she had thrown on when she first woke up that morning. She hadn’t even brushed her hair or her teeth all day. “I’ve imposed on you enough.”
    “Not at all.” Sylvia smiled, and again Laura felt her warmth, the simple goodness coming off of her in waves. Her eyes in the failing light were an almost glowing green, the color of summer leaves in sunlight. “Come back whenever you want, sweet girl. We’ve been worried sick about you.”
    “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but she thought the day with Sylvia had helped. And the night with Jake’s ghost.
    “You’re not. Of course you’re not.” Sylvia hugged her gently, delicate arms enfolding her with the lightest squeeze. She closed her eyes, stiffening, absorbing and resisting the strange woman’s warmth at the same time. “But you will be.”
     
     
    The daylight was fading fast as Caleb emerged again on the street. He kept looking into the faces of humans as he passed them, making eye contact. They all looked so anxious, so fearful, so full of fragile life. What had Laura thought when she woke up this morning? What was she doing now? With a glance at the setting sun, he walked faster, headed for the cemetery.

Chapter Seven—In the Garden of the Dead
     
    By the time Laura left the apartment, the sun had set into a cold, purple twilight. The snow on the sidewalk had been packed into a pebbled, grungy sheet of ice. But inside the cemetery, it was drifted white and virtually untouched. She sank in almost to the tops of her boots even on the path, and the moonlight glowed like silver all around her, even under the trees. Jake’s small marker was almost completely covered. She got soaking wet digging it out with her hands, but she didn’t mind. She felt sad but serene, at peace in the beautiful night.
    She took a postcard out of her pocket. The picture on it was one of Jake’s paintings from before he got sick, a dove with wings outspread with an arrow piercing its breast. She took off her glove and took out a ballpoint pen. “Dearest Jake,” she wrote. “The weather is beautiful. Wish you were here. With all my love forever, Laura.”
    She hadn’t brought whiskey or the icon candle, but she had Jake’s lighter in her pocket, a heavy silver one that had belonged to his grandfather. She ran a fingertip over the wings etched into the silver before she lit it up.
    In the flare of the tiny flame, she saw a man standing in the shadows of a willow tree, watching her. “Hi,” she said, raising the light.
    He looked as surprised to be seen as she was to see him. “Hi,” he said back, stepping out of the shadows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
    “It’s okay.” He should have been freezing, the way he was dressed—slacks and a sweater with an open overcoat. But he seemed perfectly comfortable, perfectly at ease. “You aren’t—you didn’t disturb me.” She let the lighter go out and slipped it into her pocket before offering her hand. “I’m Laura.”
    “Hi Laura.” He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hand was pleasantly warm. “I’m Caleb.” His accent was strange, nothing foreign she could