Season of Passion by Danielle Steel Read Free Book Online Page B

reached the cottage, he wasn't there.
    Tom? There was no answer to her knock. Mr. Erhard? The attendant seemed to be gone too. Gingerly, she opened the door and looked around. The room was neatly kept and as bright and pretty as the rest of the facilities. It was why she had chosen Mead Home for Tom. She had been to see a number of places like it within driving distance of San Francisco, and all of them had looked bleak, full of despair. Mead had an aura of hope and sunshine about it. It was a place that time no longer touched, the way it no longer touched Tom. It was safe, tucked away. And it looked more like a school than a sanatorium; Kate always expected to hear children singing, or see them running off to play baseball.
    Tom? She wondered where he had gone, as she sank into a chair for a minute to catch her breath. She was breathless today, more than she had been. The baby was crowding her increasingly. And she had driven the three hours straight through without stopping, despite her doctor's orders. But stopping took too much time. She always figured she could get the kinks out when she got to Mead. She stretched her legs for a minute, enjoying the comfortable rocking chair. It was upholstered in a bright print with little red flowers, and the quilts on the two beds matched the chair. The curtains were airy white dotted Swiss, and there was a small jar crammed full of bright yellow flowers on the table near the window. She knew Tom had picked them. Some of his drawings were tacked to the walls, and his hand still had the maturity his head no longer had. There were delicate watercolors of flowers and birds. She had never known that he could draw until he had come to Mead. He had never done anything like it before. Only football. Now he didn't even remember he had played. It was as though he had had to go all the way back to childhood to get rid of it. But at last he had.
    Actually this was the perfect cottage for anyone, sick or well, adult or child, and Kate liked knowing he was happy there. And he could get around easily in his wheelchair. Outside there was a hammock Mr. Erhard helped him into when Tom was content just to lie and watch the birds. Sometimes he even let him lie there for a while at night, covered with blankets, looking up at the stars. Mr. Erhard was good to Tom. He had been one of his fans for years, and he was pleased with the special assignment when Tom arrived at Mead.
    There was a rustle outside as Kate pushed herself out of the chair, and then she heard Mr. Erhard's rich baritone, telling Tom a story. There was a pause for a moment, when he must have noticed the door to the cottage was slightly ajar. She heard his step on the narrow flagstone path, and in a moment the white mane of her husband's attendant was visible in the doorway.
    Yes? It was a stern sound, and he looked like a man who brooked neither nonsense nor intrusions. But his face softened instantly when he saw Kate. Well, hello there. How are you feeling?
    Fine. Fat They both laughed. How's our friend?
    Mr. Erhard nodded, with a satisfied look. Doing fine. He did a whole batch of new drawings yesterday, and we picked some flowers this morning. He'll tell you all about
    Hey Andy! It was Tom's voice from outside. The chair was stuck in the grass. Hey!
    Coming, son. Erhard was quick to leave the cottage and Kate was right behind him. It was crazy, that smile bursting into her eyes and onto her lips. Why did she still feel like this? As though he ware still the old Tom, as though ' she always felt the same thrill, the same excitement, the same pleasure in just looking at him, touching him, holding him, just knowing he was all right and still hers.
    Katie! It was a burst of delight as Tom saw her coming toward him. His eyes danced, and his smile went on forever as he reached out his arms.
    Hi, sweetheart How you be today?
    Terrific! Wait till you see what we found!
    Mr. Erhard's wise old eyes twinkled as he rolled Tom gently toward the