Graves' Retreat by Ed Gorman Read Free Book Online Page B

other.”
        “I know.”
        “And I know I love you and I know you love me, but I think it’s-”
        And then she stopped.
        And he almost seized her to shake her so she’d find her thought.
        "It’s what?” he said finally.
        “I think it’s just loneliness.”
        “And not real love.”
        “Oh, no, real love. But a friendship kind of love, Les.”
        “Then you love-Byron-still?”
        She took his hands and brought them together as if in prayer and then touched them to her cheek. “Yes, I do, Les.” Then she frowned. “Or I would if he’d ever stand up to Daddy.”
        But he could hardly hear her.
        His ears filled with the finality of her words.
        He walked away from her, over to where the river rushed and shone silver. He stared at the water and thought how fine a dream it had been-his dream of somehow marrying Susan-but how he’d never been able to convince himself that it would ever actually happen.
        He wanted to blame her but he couldn’t. When he thought about it, all she’d ever talked about was her father and Byron, and how she wanted Byron to take his stand against his powerful would-be father-in-law. Only once had Les ever kissed her and that had been fleeting. She had needed someone to listen, a friend, and while that did not flatter his image of himself, he had to admit she had not led him on.
        She came up and touched his shoulder. In the moonlight her small features and raven hair were lovely. “Have you seen May lately?”
        He turned back to her. “No.”
        “You’ve been my friend, Les. Now let me be yours.”
        “It’s all right, Susan,” he sighed. “Why don’t we just go back.”
        “No, please, Les. Let me say something.”
        “All right.”
        “I don’t think you gave her a decent chance. She’s a very nice girl.”
        “I know she’s a nice girl.”
        “And I think- Well, I think pride kept you from loving her.”
        “Pride?” For the first time he allowed a note of anger in his voice. "What's pride got to do with it?”
        “Men can be that way, Les. I know. Daddy’s like that. If he thinks something’s not good enough for him-well, it blinds him sometimes.”
        “I never said she’s not good enough for me.”
        “No, you didn’t say it. But I sensed it.”
        “She works in a hat shop and that’s perfectly all right,” Les said. “It is perfectly all right. If only you’d believe that.”
        “Let’s go.”
        “Les, I want us to part as friends.”
        “We’re friends, Susan. Don’t worry about that.”
        She stopped him and leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I really care about you, Les. I want you to know that.”
        “Yes,” he said, but it was a dull voice and seemed to belong to somebody else. “Yes, I know that.”
        Then they got in the carriage and went back.
        
***
        
        On the porch, one of the roomers was saying to Mr. Waterhouse, “Tell us about that buried body again.”
        “Well,” Mr. Waterhouse said, “it’s getting kind of late.”
        “Please,” said another boarder, “just that one and then we can all go to bed.”
        Les heard all this as he approached the porch and despite his mood -despite the fact that it was clear now he would never have Susan- he had to smile to himself. The boarders were like children whenever Mr. Waterhouse started telling Cedar Rapids stories. Please, just one more before bedtime, please.
        “Well,” said Mr. Waterhouse, “you know where the old distillery was. Well, on that site right there there’s said to be a body buried- some say it was the result of two men fighting a duel over a woman, and others say it was over money and that the killer buried the body there and then bought the property next