Grains of Truth by Lydia Crichton Read Free Book Online

some kind of damn decisions about her future. And she would even possibly be making a small contribution to the prevention of more violence. 
    Julia grimly acknowledged she was slipping towards a decision in favor of the astonishing assignment. Her heart, she realized, had taken control and was urging her head ever closer to a decision she might come to regret. With a deep sigh, she turned back to the car, aware that hours of tortuous internal debate lay ahead. It was going to be a long day, and an even longer night. 
    ~
    As she swung along the sidewalk on Haight Street, Julia caught sight of the old woman who’d staked out her regular spot. Covered in layers of tattered clothes, she sat cross-legged on a worn blanket amidst piles of junk. The young dog stretched out beside her thumped its tail when Julia bent to pat his head. With her free hand, she reached in her suit pocket, took out a folded ten-dollar bill and held it out.
    She was rewarded with a snaggle-toothed grin. “Thanks, Julia.”
    Julia kept a firm grip on the bill as a gnarled hand tried to take it. “For food. Not Starbucks.”
    The old woman cackled as she palmed the bill; the dog licked Julia’s hand. Shaking her head, Julia moved past them to push open the door of a rundown store front. Above the handle, a bumper sticker proclaimed There is no way to peace. Peace is the way. Posters in every window called for peace in Iraq, Afghanistan. Inside, more posters covered the walls, and stacks of flyers overflowed tables around the perimeter of the room. The churning of a copy machine drew her to the rear, where the figure of a gray-haired woman, a long braid hanging down the center of her back, stooped over the machine. At sight of Julia, she switched it off.
    “Wow. Look at you. All dolled up. How’d it go at the lab?”
    Julia gave her a quick hug. “Good. My hemoglobin is normal.” She rubbed the band-aid on the inside of her wrist where the demonic needle had extracted her blood.
    “And has that jackass doctor ever admitted that you had parasites?”
    Julia shook her head. “Oh, no. If they can’t define it, it doesn’t exist.”
    “Jackass. I wish I’d known you then. I could’ve told you . . . ”
    “Never mind. At least I lived to tell the tale.” Julia nodded at the stack of freshly printed flyers. “I’m finished with my pile. Want me to take more?”
    Her friend Passion poked her shoulder with a stubby, be-ringed finger. “What I want is for you to take a break. You’ve done enough, more than enough.”
    “But we have to…”
    “Listen, you runnin’ yourself ragged won’t change the world, darlin’. What you need to do now is concentrate on gettin’ your own life back.”
    ~
    By the time Julia left “Peace Headquarters,” the morning clouds had all blown out to sea. She ambled back in the direction of her car, enjoying the warm fingers of sunlight dancing through the leafy trees to caress her face. Sweet birdsong filled the soft, cool air. She slowed as she passed beside a row of polished limousines parked at the curb in front of a small chapel tucked in between a row of brightly painted Victorian houses—the “painted ladies.”
    The church bells suddenly rang out, joyous and strong. Julia looked up at the vine-covered building as people began to spill from it doors. A bride and groom came bouncing down the steps. At the bottom, he caught her up in his arms and she welcomed his ardent kiss. The crowd cheered approval and pelted them with birdseed. Tears welled up in Julia’s eyes, even as she smiled.
    Back in her utilitarian studio apartment, Julia opened the refrigerator and stared vacantly at its contents. After assembling an odd assortment of leftovers on a plate, she sat down in the one comfortable chair with the plate on a tray in her lap and surveyed her surroundings with a judicious eye. The ceaseless white noise of traffic on the Bay Bridge hummed away in the background, with an occasional siren punctuating