Firefly by Linda Hilton Read Free Book Online Page A

remembered collapsing in the girl's flowerbed and throwing up his liquid breakfast.  He had almost reached the memory of sewing the boy's forehead back together, an essential part of the nightmare, when his head cleared enough that he heard voices and could actually understand the words.
    "You mean he just died?"  A child's voice, it sounded like the boy's.
    "Apparently."  The reply came from Julie.  He had no trouble recognizing her voice.
    "Well, who found him?  I mean, how did they find out he was dead?  And where did he die?"
    "Mr. McCrory found him early this morning in the alley behind his store."
    "How'd you find out about him?"
    There was a clattering and the tapping of an eggshell on the edge of a skillet, followed by the unmistakable sizzle.
    "Mrs. McCrory came over earlier, before you were awake, and told me.  The funeral is to be this afternoon."
    "How come so soon?  When Mr. Callahan died they had that big wake for him, with all the--"
    "That was in Minnesota, Willy, and here they just can't wait that long.  Besides, Mr. Callahan was Irish, and it's a custom with the Irish to do that."
    Morgan struggled with his eyes, tried to open them and wondered if perhaps they were held shut with coins, maybe even silver dollars from Julie Hollstrom's apron pocket.  No, he seemed able to move his limbs, though with a great deal of stiffness and plenty of pain, too, so he didn't think he was the person scheduled for burial this afternoon.
    He rolled onto his back and discovered a small pillow.  He eased it under the back of his neck and then rubbed his eyes, feeling the rough granules that stuck his lashes together finally loosen.  After a few tentative flutters, he opened his eyes and struggled to focus them.
    Despite the pain it brought, the blinding morning sunlight was one of the most beautiful things Del Morgan had ever seen in all his thirty-four years.  His head pounded, his eyes felt as though they were being slowly burned from their sockets, his hip and shoulder joints practically squeaked with aching stiffness, his belly growled with hunger he knew he didn't dare satisfy right away or he'd lose whatever he ate, and his mouth tasted as if some old buzzard had dragged a piece of carrion in there and left it.  Yet he was so relieved just to be alive that he smiled and then stretched with a loud yawn.
    And he realized he hadn't felt this good about being alive for years, though he felt so lousy that he didn't care to wonder why he felt so good.
    He was now aware that he lay to one side of the Hollstroms' porch, and the pillow under his head was a well-worn cushion from an old wicker chair at the other side of the porch.  He was indulging in another yawn and stretch and wondering where the nearest privy was when the front door opened.
    If there hadn't been a railing to the porch, he would have tumbled into the petunias again, but he was not going to lie down while Julie Hollstrom came out with his breakfast.  He clutched the turned pillar with numb fingers and prayed that the world would stop spinning quite so recklessly, but at least he was on his feet before the door had closed behind her.
    "Look, Miss Hollstrom, I--"
    "I thought I heard you waking up out here," she rudely interrupted.  "Do you take anything in your coffee?"
    "No, but I--"
    "And would you prefer strawberry preserves or orange marmalade on your toast?"
    "Strawberry, but you don't--"
    "I hope you don't mind, but I only fixed you some toast and coffee; I didn't think you'd be up to much more after the way you felt yesterday."  She walked past him and set the tray on the railing, then pulled one of the wicker chairs closer to him.  "Why don't you sit down while you eat?"
    Well, did you really expect her to invite you into her kitchen for breakfast? he asked himself caustically.  It ought to be enough she's feeding you here on her front porch, instead of calling someone to drag you home and out of her sight .
    So he did as he was told and