The Christmas List by Richard Paul Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

trick, Lincoln, is to not let what other people think bother you.”
    â€œReally, I wish I could do that. Beer helps.”
    â€œIt’s easier when you consider that three percent of the population are certifiably insane. And the rest of them are idiots. Why would you care what idiots think?”
    â€œThat’s the spirit, old boy,” Lincoln said, raising his drink. “To the idiot masses.”
    Kier looked at Lincoln, his hand wavering with the upheld glass. He raised his own, “To the idiot masses.” Both men took a long drink.

CHAPTER
Thirteen

That night Kier had a dream. He was in a spacious hallway with dark-varnished floors and lined with tall, arched windows covered in silk drapes tied back with elegant golden ropes. There were potted orchids and African violets by each window. The ceilings were high, hung with brass and crystal chandeliers, and the walls were covered with an ivory silk. Soft harp music filled the room but he could not see where it was coming from.
    The hall was vacant. As he looked around he saw that at the far end of the room was an ornate closed casket made from burled walnut and fastened with copper corner pieces and handles.
    He wondered who was inside. He crossed the room but when he reached the casket he was suddenly afraid to look. He lifted the heavy lid. Inside was a woman he knew that he had seen before but didn’t recognize until she opened her eyes.
    â€œMy son,” she said.
    â€œMom?” She smiled lovingly and a calm feeling came over him.
    â€œMy dear, sweet boy. I miss you. We all miss you.”
    Kier didn’t understand. “All?”
    â€œLook and see.”
    He turned from her to look around the hall, but there was still no one there. He turned back. “I don’t . . .” His mother was gone and inside the velvet-lined casket lay Sara. Her skin was a waxlike pallor yet she was still beautiful. Almost involuntarily he spoke her name, “Sara.”
    At the sound of his voice her eyes opened, looking through him. She spoke and her voice had a sweet, faraway resonance. “Jim, why did you leave me when I needed you the most?”
    â€œI, I . . .” He had no answer. “I’m sorry.” His eyes filled with tears. “I really am sorry.”
    â€œMe too,” she said softly. She looked at him without anger or malice, just sadness.
    â€œWhere is everyone?” Kier asked.
    She didn’t answer but closed her eyes again.
    â€œSara, come back.” He crouched next to the casket. “Sara, where is everyone? Where is Jimmy?” He looked around the room, hoping to see him.
    Suddenly an old man entered the parlor. The man stopped near the room’s entrance to write in the guestbook. Then, leaning on his walker, he hobbled across the room. As he neared, Kier thought he recognized the man but couldn’t remember from where. It took the man several minutes to reach the casket. Without acknowledging Kier, he stood by his side, staring intently at the corpse.
    â€œThank you for coming,” Kier said.
    The man turned to look at him. To Kier’s surprise therewas a gleeful smile on his face. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Then, turning back to the corpse, his smile changed to a scowl and he spit into the casket. “Rot in hell,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
    Kier turned red with anger and raised his fist. “How dare you. She was a good woman.”
    â€œWoman?” the man said.
    Kier looked back. His own body was now lying inside the coffin.
    â€œSecond best day of my life,” the old man mumbled as he hobbled off. “Second best day of my life.”

CHAPTER
Fourteen

Kier woke with his heart pounding. He was soaked in sweat and his face was wet with tears. As consciousness flooded back, his chest grew heavy with sorrow. He had lied. He had lied to Lincoln. He had lied to himself. The newspaper article, the