Read Online A Song of Shadows by John Connolly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Connolly
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back up. Your daughter helped me. I’m sorry if I caused you any concern. You have a great daughter. Not every young woman would have stopped to help a man in trouble.’
Amanda glowed at being referred to as a ‘young woman,’ but she still feared her mother’s wrath. By walking and talking with Mr Parker, she’d done the wrong thing for the right reasons – or was it the right thing for the wrong reasons? No, it was definitely the first. She wanted to explain it to her mom, but this was between adults now.
Something softened in her mother – only a little, but it was there.
‘It’s just that – well, I’ve warned her about talking to, you know—’
‘Strange men,’ he finished for her, and she smiled slightly.
‘Yes, strange men.’
He reached out a hand to her.
‘My name is Charlie Parker. We’re neighbors.’
His hand hung in the air for a couple of seconds before she took it.
‘Ruth Winter,’ she said. ‘And I believe you’ve met my daughter.’
‘Yes. Like I said, a good kid.’
Amanda tried not to scowl now that she was back to being a kid again, but at least Mr Parker was doing his best to get her mother on their side.
‘Sometimes,’ said her mother. ‘Go on, Amanda Jane. Inside. I don’t want you catching a chill.’
Amanda did as she was told, but looked back over her shoulder and gave Mr Parker a smile. Amanda Jane . He’d been right, and he knew it. He couldn’t help smiling back. Her mother caught it, and turned to find out its cause, but by then Amanda was already running for the house.
‘Again,’ said Parker, ‘I’m sorry. I really did fall, and she really did help me. If she hadn’t, I might still be down there on the sand.’
‘You know how it is,’ said Ruth. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
‘I have a daughter of my own, younger than Amanda. I know.’
They stood awkwardly, facing each other, then Ruth Winter began to head back to her house.
‘Thanks for bringing her home,’ she said.
‘I think it was the other way around.’
‘Either way. Goodbye.’
He watched her head back into the house, and noticed in passing the little mezuzah on the right side of the door, sealed in a pewter case. So she was Jewish. He hadn’t asked her about Amanda’s illness, and it struck him that any such questions wouldn’t have been welcome. She didn’t appear to want anything to do with him, and she certainly didn’t give the impression that she wanted her daughter having anything to do with him either. That was fine. He wasn’t in a very sociable place, or he thought he wasn’t. He had enjoyed talking with Amanda, though. She reminded him of Sam, in some ways. He wondered again why she had asked him if Sam had blond hair. He was still mulling it over as he entered his house, and slipped off the laceless sneakers that he wore for walking. He sat down in an armchair facing the kitchen. It had a soft cushion, because his ass still hurt from some of the shotgun wounds.
On the table before him lay his pills, but he didn’t have the strength to get up again and take them. He was on what was known as the ‘analgesic ladder’ – Tylenol, tramadol, MS Contin, gabapentin – which, apart from constipating him like crazy, caused him to worry about becoming a prescription-drug addict. So he took the hardcore pills less often than he should have, and generally relied on the Tylenol.
Just before he fell asleep, he discerned a flash of movement in the shadows, and the blond hair of his dead daughter caught the fading afternoon light as she watched her father’s eyes close.
Amanda wasn’t sure what she was expecting from her mother, but it wasn’t to be wrapped in a huge hug, and kissed over and over again on the forehead and cheeks.
‘I’m okay, Mom,’ she said. ‘Honest. Mr Parker is nice.’
Her mother released her, and ruffled her hair. Behind her, the television was on low, and Amanda saw images of a burned house, and policemen, and a photograph of a
Amanda glowed at being referred to as a ‘young woman,’ but she still feared her mother’s wrath. By walking and talking with Mr Parker, she’d done the wrong thing for the right reasons – or was it the right thing for the wrong reasons? No, it was definitely the first. She wanted to explain it to her mom, but this was between adults now.
Something softened in her mother – only a little, but it was there.
‘It’s just that – well, I’ve warned her about talking to, you know—’
‘Strange men,’ he finished for her, and she smiled slightly.
‘Yes, strange men.’
He reached out a hand to her.
‘My name is Charlie Parker. We’re neighbors.’
His hand hung in the air for a couple of seconds before she took it.
‘Ruth Winter,’ she said. ‘And I believe you’ve met my daughter.’
‘Yes. Like I said, a good kid.’
Amanda tried not to scowl now that she was back to being a kid again, but at least Mr Parker was doing his best to get her mother on their side.
‘Sometimes,’ said her mother. ‘Go on, Amanda Jane. Inside. I don’t want you catching a chill.’
Amanda did as she was told, but looked back over her shoulder and gave Mr Parker a smile. Amanda Jane . He’d been right, and he knew it. He couldn’t help smiling back. Her mother caught it, and turned to find out its cause, but by then Amanda was already running for the house.
‘Again,’ said Parker, ‘I’m sorry. I really did fall, and she really did help me. If she hadn’t, I might still be down there on the sand.’
‘You know how it is,’ said Ruth. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
‘I have a daughter of my own, younger than Amanda. I know.’
They stood awkwardly, facing each other, then Ruth Winter began to head back to her house.
‘Thanks for bringing her home,’ she said.
‘I think it was the other way around.’
‘Either way. Goodbye.’
He watched her head back into the house, and noticed in passing the little mezuzah on the right side of the door, sealed in a pewter case. So she was Jewish. He hadn’t asked her about Amanda’s illness, and it struck him that any such questions wouldn’t have been welcome. She didn’t appear to want anything to do with him, and she certainly didn’t give the impression that she wanted her daughter having anything to do with him either. That was fine. He wasn’t in a very sociable place, or he thought he wasn’t. He had enjoyed talking with Amanda, though. She reminded him of Sam, in some ways. He wondered again why she had asked him if Sam had blond hair. He was still mulling it over as he entered his house, and slipped off the laceless sneakers that he wore for walking. He sat down in an armchair facing the kitchen. It had a soft cushion, because his ass still hurt from some of the shotgun wounds.
On the table before him lay his pills, but he didn’t have the strength to get up again and take them. He was on what was known as the ‘analgesic ladder’ – Tylenol, tramadol, MS Contin, gabapentin – which, apart from constipating him like crazy, caused him to worry about becoming a prescription-drug addict. So he took the hardcore pills less often than he should have, and generally relied on the Tylenol.
Just before he fell asleep, he discerned a flash of movement in the shadows, and the blond hair of his dead daughter caught the fading afternoon light as she watched her father’s eyes close.
Amanda wasn’t sure what she was expecting from her mother, but it wasn’t to be wrapped in a huge hug, and kissed over and over again on the forehead and cheeks.
‘I’m okay, Mom,’ she said. ‘Honest. Mr Parker is nice.’
Her mother released her, and ruffled her hair. Behind her, the television was on low, and Amanda saw images of a burned house, and policemen, and a photograph of a
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