Read Online Adam's Peak by Heather Burt - Free Book Online Page A

Fraser as a mother.
    He pulls his right hand from his pocket and waves. “Hi, Mrs. Fraser. It’s been a few years at least.”The
Mrs. Fraser
sounds ridiculous; she can’t be more than forty-five. But she doesn’t correct him.
    At the edge of the road he stops, while she, on her side, does the same. A sensible position, Rudy thinks. With Morgan Hill Road between them, it’s easier to avoid the urn, not to mention the fact thatin almost twenty years of living across the street from each other, he and his neighbour have almost never spoken.
    â€œIs your family together for Christmas?” she says.
    He’s forgotten about Christmas. “Oh. Yeah. My sister and her family are here, and my aunt’s out for her visit.”
    He wonders if she has any idea where his aunt is visiting
from
—if she even knows where the place is. Renée didn’t, though she tried to hide it. But Mrs. Fraser, he sees, is smiling and nodding in a way that seems entirely genuine.
    â€œOh, that’s lovely. I must say, I always envied your aunt every time she went back home. I’ve dreamed of going to that part of the world ever since I was a girl.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œOh, aye. I think it would be marvellous. The lovely beaches, the temples ...”
    Touristy stuff, he thinks, but still. It seems to him suddenly preposterous that Mrs. Fraser has never been inside his house, never had a cup of tea with his aunt. He takes a small step forward.
    â€œYou should go sometime.”
    â€œI should, shouldn’t I. Well, maybe when things here are a bit more settled.” She shifts the urn in her arms.
    Grateful for the opening, Rudy clears his throat. “I was really sorry to hear about your husband. Is everything all ... I mean, is there anything ...”
    She shakes her head. “Thank you, pet. It was a terrible shock, but we’re managing quite well. It just takes time, doesn’t it.”
    Pet
, he repeats to himself, nodding. She’s speaking to him as if for all these years the Vantwests and the Frasers have been regular neigh-bours. He glances back at his own house. Through the living room window he can make out his brother, tossing Zoë up in the air. Adam’s build is slender, but he’s a swimmer, lean and strong.
    â€œI shouldn’t keep you,” Mrs. Fraser says. “I heard Mary calling you in.”
    â€œYeah. I should probably go.”
    â€œWell, it was lovely chatting with you, Rudy.”
    â€œYou too.”

    â€œYou’re still living in Toronto?”
    â€œFor a while anyway. I’ve got a teaching job in North York.”
    â€œOh, that’s wonderful! Well, best of luck with it.”
    â€œThanks.”
    He wonders if he should wish her a Merry Christmas, but a final glance at the urn dismisses the idea. He waves again then turns and retraces his steps through the snow and up the concrete stairs to the front door. With his hand on the latch he looks back to see Mrs. Fraser disappear behind her own door. His eyes travel to the upstairs windows of the Fraser house, and there, in the middle window, he catches Clare Fraser’s pale, pretty face, turning away from him then vanishing altogether.
Odd duck
, he thinks. And yet he watches a few seconds longer to see if she’ll return. He wants her to—wants her to come back and just be there. But she doesn’t. One last time he meets the vacant stare of the house across the street, then he goes inside.
    Christmas lunch is almost ready. The counter is crowded with Aunty’s special dishes, and the air is heavy with the competing smells of curry spices and turkey. While Aunty and Susie fuss over last-minute details, Dad and Mark drink arrack and talk hockey. Down on the floor, Zoë struggles with the lid of an empty Tupperware container. Adam is rummaging through a drawer; Jim Reeves is still singing. Rudy hovers in the archway between the kitchen and the living