The Telling by Eden Winters Read Free Book Online

he needed to come home and take care of his
    aging, graying mother. Leaving to find his own place in the world might prove more difficult than expected.
    A woman with a heart of pure gold, that was his mother, and all the qualities he liked about himself came from her. Honesty, open-mindedness,
    dependability, compassion, but she’d always sold herself short. He wished that she’d shaken off the loser who’d gotten her
    pregnant at sixteen and gone on to college like Angie. Why did such an intelligent woman let barely-literate guys convince her that she was stupid and
    worthless?
    And why did his free-spirited mother keep returning to Cookesville? Larger towns they’d lived in had accepted her eclectic tastes, many praising
    her as a modern, free-thinking woman. Here, she was just the kook who ran the bookstore. Even then she had to censor what she normally would have stocked
    on her shelves. The good people of the town would run her out on a rail if they saw some of her personal collection of books, with topics ranging from
    comparative religion to alternative romance. Several alternative romance selections had answered quite a few questions for Michael during his formative
    years, while raising even more.
    All she wanted was for someone to love and appreciate her, though she never quite succeeded in finding that in her love life. In a way she didn’t
    belong in Cookesville, but at least here she had Grandma, Grandpa, and Angie—and now Michael.
    Smiling as she looked up and found him watching, she straightened, closing the refrigerator and handing him a beer. “Let’s go sit on
    the couch a while,” she said. “You look so tired.”
    Mumbling his thanks, he sprawled on the plaid couch that had once occupied his grandparents’ living room. Though he tried hard to appear
    attentive, his yawning soon became uncontrollable.
    “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk tomorrow morning. I’ll bring breakfast,” his mother said.
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    She rose and kissed him on the forehead, something she could never do had he been standing. “Love you, sweetheart,” she murmured.
    “You too, Ma.”
    After she let herself out Michael studied his surroundings. His apartment had just been empty space when his mother bought the store and sent him pictures.
    Now he was once more reminded of how much she missed and wanted him there. All his things had been carefully placed where they used to be in his old
    bedroom. His high school era posters graced the walls of his living area and the guitar he’d never quite learned to play sat upright in an old
    beanbag, like an honored guest instead of a musical instrument. Even his neon beer sign occupied its rightful place above the head of his bed where it had
    always been.
    In a restless haze he dimmed the lights and attempted to relax, first on the couch, then on his bed, but the fatigue, the excitement of being home, and his
    whirling thoughts just wouldn’t let him sleep. Finally, he turned the lights back on and familiarized himself with his new apartment.
    He made his way over to his old stereo. All CDs, and even his old albums were present and accounted for. An ancient TV and a cheap DVD player sat in a
    corner with his favorite movies stacked beneath. A cursory inspection of the cabinets and refrigerator showed the results of a major shopping spree,
    stocked with all his favorites. Even his well-used Steelers coffee mug was there. After helping himself to another beer, he sat on the couch, surfing
    through channels on the TV. All right! Mom hooked up cable.
    Once relaxed to the point that he might actually get some sleep, he tucked himself into bed, wrapping the blue, patchwork, Grandma-made quilt over himself,
    and closed his eyes, hoping against hope to sleep through the night and not wake up screaming.

    ***

    The next few days were a blur of activity as Michael settled into his new home and routine, working in the book store, visiting with and being fussed