Winter Passing by Cindy Martinusen Coloma Read Free Book Online Page A

edging. Grandma Celia’s ring tumbled forward, suspended in the air by the gold chain around her neck. As Darby held the ring, tracing the circle of warm metal with one finger, a few oak leaves drifted down.
    Is my life drifting apart and away like those leaves? she wondered. She’d built a wall that was nicely kept around her life. Now that wall was crumbling. What had Grandma said the last night they talked? Something about this last story becoming part of her future too—about Darby needing to make certain decisions—hopefully the right ones? It shook her to the core, touching inward places she’d never dared to think about because if she did, she didn’t know what she’d find. Maybe she didn’t want to move into this place of mystery and the unknown. Darby had always planned her own course, and as a result, things worked out perfectly. At least that’s what she continued to tell herself whenever the doubts arose. And now this. Tatianna. Secrets. Shadows. Perhaps the truth would destroy everything she knew, everything she was. But there was no turning back. The first step would be the safe. From there, she didn’t know.
    Darby placed the single flower on the new sod.
    “I came to say good-bye. Yet even now, I can’t stand the thought that you are gone from me. But I know and vow, whatever you want of me, Grandma, I’ll do my best. I promise you that.”
    She stood and began to walk away. With one last backward look, Darby thought how pleased Grandma would be with the flower on her grave. Her favorite, a pale yellow rose, shone in the late-morning light.

Chapter Five
    Brant stared at the black-and-white photograph. In the many years he’d known Gunther, his mentor had never shared this picture with him.
    He settled back in the leather wingback. Gunther’s chair. Just sitting here made Brant feel closer to him. The light scent of apple pipe smoke lingered in the soft leather and further reminded Brant how much he missed spending time with the old man. He knew this would be one of the last times he would sit in Gunther’s study. After today, the room would never be the same without his dear friend’s presence. And once it changed, Brant would not often travel from Salzburg to his old summer home next door to Gunther’s. With Gunther gone from this place, there was nothing but memories to bring him back to Gosau. How he hated changes—especially ones this severe and permanent.
    Brant’s gaze returned to the aged photo. “So this is your long-lost love,” he muttered, looking at the two faces. “Yes, and his only love too.”
    Startled, Brant turned to see Ingrid, Gunther’s wife, in the doorway. He started to speak to somehow take away his words. He wouldn’t have spoken had he known she watched him.
    “Don’t look so surprised.” Ingrid moved into the room. She walked up beside Brant and gazed at the beaming smiles worn by the young man and woman in the picture. “Gunther only married me because I needed his help. Postwar Europe wasn’t exactly a safe place for an unwed mother of two. Gunther took pity on me, which was enough at the time.”
    “I’m sure he grew to love you,” Brant said quickly. When he slid the photo back into the manila envelope, he felt something at the bottom. But with the ever-watchful and acidic Ingrid in the room, he ignored it.
    She laughed. “You never were a good liar, Brant. Even as a little boy, I could always tell. You look away and start doing something when you lie.”
    Brant gazed at the sharp contours on her wrinkled face as she propped a hip against the chair across from him. Was that pain in her smile?
    “Gunther didn’t love me like a wife. For a long time I thought it was because of my past. It’s hard to respect an ex-breeding cow for Nazi officers.”
    Brant clenched his jaw. These were things he had no desire to hear. He sought words but was left empty.
    “I should have known the reason. It was her.” Ingrid pointed at the envelope beside