House of Darkness House of Light by Andrea Perron Read Free Book Online

house-inspecting, he’d continually reminded himself to remain on alert. A checklist: the heating system, plumbing then wiring; make mental notes; questions to ask. It was his job to determine its adequacy; what the house might lack, what it may need in terms of future improvements and of course, what the fixes would cost. Utilizing all the self-discipline he could muster, denying himself the luxury of wallowing in the sheer spectacle of the house, he forced himself to overcome the temptation to simply admire it, to walk it as one would a museum, merely to celebrate its existence. This home offered an abundance of space in which to raise a big family. There would be time to enjoy it later. In the interim, it was Roger’s responsibility to inspect it as thoroughly and objectively as possible; to look at it with different eyes: to observe it with indifference …as a pragmatic, devil may care advocate.
    Carolyn gathered her children on the front lawn. Exhausted, they collapsed into a pile to rest. She settled in beside them, taking in the aromas, beckoning the supple blades of grass to stroke her slender fingers. Mr. Kenyon emerged from the house holding a tray with a large pitcher of water and four matching glasses, all he had on hand. The temperature was climbing; humidity equally oppressive: Ah, it was summertime in Rhode Island. With the excitement and adventure, everyone was drenched with perspiration, sporting flushed, ruddy cheeks as proof. The young ladies shared, passing glasses, drinking heartily. Carolyn waited for them to replenish their fluids before helping herself. She was startled by the cold pitcher; almost painful to the touch. Filling a glass to the rim, she placed it up against her lips. Shocked, as if jolted by an electrical charge, eyes widened and brightened in equal measure with the first swallow. Never before in her life had she tasted water so frigid or pure, like something straight from the heart of a glacier: Refreshment!
    “Mommy! It hurts my teeth!” April, only five years old, was not normally shy about expressing herself. Garbled words were barely intelligible as she’d stuffed a few warm fingers into her mouth, to ease the pain of the oncoming brain freeze. Wrinkling up her face in a disapproving grimace, she obviously took exception to laughter erupting at what she perceived to be her expense.
    Mr. Kenyon smiled at the baby of the family, long blond hair plastered to the sides of sweaty cheeks; sea blue eyes peeking out and up at her mother. The cherub stole his heart. In fact, the family’s presence brought a sudden ray of light into the life of a lonely old man who feared the darkness of night. He made himself clear in a moment: they were always welcome at his home. Carolyn believed she’d rediscovered a long lost friend. His kindness was so endearing, sincerity so compelling, the instant connection she’d felt with Mr. Kenyon when they first met was coming to fruition; a blossom as fragrant as mountain laurel…as delicate as lady slippers. She recalls it as an inexplicable familiarity, as if it were a well-established friendship with a man who was, in reality, a virtual stranger when they were introduced. Neither seemed to feel the initial reticence associated with such an awkward circumstance. Instead, they’d tacitly accepted the feeling with a knowing silence. The sensation they shared did not require any further acknowledgement.
    As she sat there observing a man reveling in laughter, an insidious sadness crept into Carolyn. Diverting her eyes so to avoid anyone’s perception of the suddenly languid mood, the woman looked down, studying a glass cradled in her hands. Beads of water resembling tears trickled down the face of the vessel, leaving streaks to mark a journey. Chasing the frost from its surface, droplets paced a solitary dirge, tracing icy paths. The vivid, haunting imagery instantly evoked a memory; a somber reflection, one entirely contrary to her formerly uplifted