Sweet Everlasting by Patricia Gaffney Read Free Book Online Page A

subtle and expressive. How old was she, sixteen? Seventeen? He assumed she was not well-educated; obviously she was poor. Still, with the exception of his mother, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman pour tea with a more unself-conscious grace.
    He sipped his tea, leaning back in his chair. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not to him. He broke it anyway, in case it was to her. “There’s a mule at the livery stable Hoyle Taber likes to rent out to me every chance he gets. Poison is his name. You’ve probably seen him around—he’s only got one ear, and something’s eaten about half his tail off.” Carrie smiled and shook her head. “I ask you, Miss Wiggins, how is a young doctor to maintain his dignity behind an animal like that?” That made her grin, showing even white teeth.
    “That mule of yours, now, I’ll bet he knows the way home by himself.” She nodded. “Well, certainly. Even the dumbest animal knows how to get home, especially the closer he gets to his dinner. Not Poison, though. The other night I fell asleep in the buggy, coming back from a call. I woke up just about frozen to death, standing still in the middle of Broad Street at two o’clock in the morning. That wooden-headed jackass was fast asleep with his lips on the ground. I swear I could hear him snoring.”
    Her silent laughter tickled him; he laughed with her. She’d gone so far as to unbutton her coat; she looked as relaxed as he’d yet seen her. Smoothly, gently, he asked, “How long have you been unable to speak?”
    The smile in her shadowy gray eyes evaporated. She made a vague, airy gesture with one hand and looked away.
    He waited, letting the stillness become awkward. When it was clear she wasn’t going to enlarge on that answer, he said, “How long?” again, quietly.
    This time she shrugged, and held both palms up in the air.
    “For as long as you can remember?”
    Another shrug.
    “How old are you?”
    She held up ten fingers, then eight.
    He masked his surprise; except for the adult wariness in her eyes, she looked younger. “Could you speak when you were a little girl? “She looked at him then, carefully, narrowly, as if gauging exactly how far she might be able to trust him.
    Not very far. She put her hand to her forehead and gave a futile little wave. I can’t remember.
    He didn’t believe her.
    She pushed her chair back and started to stand. To forestall her, he said, “I’d like to examine your throat sometime, Carrie.”
    The chair scraped the floor. She was on her feet, smiling tensely and shaking her head. Tyler stood, too, but made no move toward her. “No? All right, never mind, then.” She began to button her coat, never taking her eyes from him. “It wouldn’t hurt, though. All I’d do is look. Think about it. Maybe someday.” He stayed where he was and kept his voice light and casual, and after a moment some of the strain went out of her shoulders.
    She took something from her pocket and laid it on the table. He stared blankly down at a dollar bill. “What’s that for?” But then he guessed. “For Shadow? Thank you, I don’t want it.” Vigorous nods; she pushed the bill closer. “No, really, it’s not necessary.” She frowned. He took the bill and held it out to her. “Take it back, Carrie, I don’t want it. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for her.” She took the money reluctantly, eyes troubled, and put it back in her pocket.
    A second later her face cleared and she reached into another pocket, withdrawing a small, bumpy-looking parcel wrapped in brown paper.
    “What’s this?”
    With a tentative smile, she laid it on the table. Before he could touch it, she turned and hurried over to the door, pulling her ungainly hat on as she reached for the knob.
    “Wait—” But she was already outside, starting down the steps. “Good night!” he called in the doorway, watching her retreating back. She didn’t wave, and the cold black night enveloped her