The Christmas Violin by Buffy Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

she stood. She swiped her slimy teeth with her tired tongue and winced. Normally, she’d brush her teeth in a public restroom where she’d also fill the sink with water and, using paper towels and soap from the wall dispenser, clean herself as best she could. But her toothbrush was in her cart. She’d have to find a new one.
    She made a mental note to check the trash on nearby Maple Street. Tomorrow was trash pickup and everyone put their trash bags out the night before. The old woman learned over the years on what streets she was most likely to find what she was looking for. She learned, for instance, that people who lived in big, fancy houses threw out a lot of good food. She found the best leftovers in their trash. They also tended to be the people who seemed to discard items that still had a lot of life left in them – like toothbrushes. Once, she even found a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened. She didn’t understand how they could throw something away when it could have been given to someone who really needed it. Like her.
    Of all the treasures she’s found in others’ trash, her greatest find she kept in a shoebox in the back corner of the shed. She smiled just thinking about it. She pictured the small Christmas tree on the boy’s grave. She wanted to do something special for the boy’s mother, and the black night she found the trash bag full of treasures she knew just what she’d do. She had waited all year to be able to give the boy’s mother her gifts, and she figured that she’d see the tree sometime around Thanksgiving. She had a few more weeks to wait and she felt as anxious as a child waiting for Santa.
    She never cared for anyone the way she cared about the young woman with the violin – and the dead boy. Why, she didn’t know. But there was something about the music, something about the woman and the boy that made her heart dance.
    The old woman wobbled to the shed door and opened it. The sun was bright and she squinted, unsure if she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. Sitting outside the door was a new metal cart and inside of it was a new fuzzy brown blanket.
    Peter
    Peter checked out of the hotel and headed to the Tampa airport. He had expected to stay another day, but there was no need to now. Luckily, he was able to reschedule his flight.
    He felt badly about the interview, about wasting Ron’s time. Peter had left on good terms, though. Ron made it clear that if Peter changed his mind, they could talk some more. But Peter knew that he wasn’t going to change his mind. He had been searching for answers and the answers were there all along. He just hadn’t opened his eyes.
    It probably wasn’t the best time to venture out on his own, but thinking about it made him happy. And he figured that had to count for something.
    He grabbed a black coffee after getting through airport security and headed to the gate. He turned on his iPad, figuring he had about an hour.
    He pulled up the e-edition of his hometown newspaper. Ever since Camilla’s death, he checked the obituaries every day. It had become habit. Once, he saw an obituary for an older couple. The husband and wife had died of natural deaths hours apart. Their daughter found them sitting in their living room. One was in the chair; the other on the sofa. And the TV was on. It was so unusual that the paper even did a little write-up about it. The news story was along the lines of them always being together, even in death.
    Peter always took notice of the people’s ages. If they had died young, like sixteen or seventeen, and there was no indication of the cause, he wondered if they had committed suicide. And if they did, why? He couldn’t understand why some people wanted to die while others who had died, like Camilla, would have given anything to live.
    Peter finished his coffee and walked over to throw his cup in the trash. The passengers from the incoming flight were walking up the ramp. When Peter turned to go back to his