Read Online Here With Me by Beverly Long - Free Book Online Page A

and
Bernard, who was shaking his head in disgust. “I’d be happy to
help.”
    “I knew I could count on you,” Bernard said.
He pointed across the table. “Pass me that chicken, George.”
    He dutifully picked up the plate and passed
it. Melody couldn’t help but notice the nice shape of his hands,
his broad fingers with nails trimmed short. When he’d shaken her
hand the night before at the beach, she’d felt the rough texture of
calluses on his palm.
    This morning, she’d woken up with the feel of
his hand against her cheek. Her bed had been empty but it was as if
his warmth, his gentle strength, had lingered about her. That’s
what had driven her to almost jump out of bed, rush through her
shower, and literally throw her things in the trunk of her car. The
only thing she’d been really careful with had been the photograph,
the one that had hung in the office that she and Sarah had shared.
It had been found in the trunk of Sarah’s car when the vehicle had
been discovered parked at the beach more than a year ago.
    It was a simple-enough scene. A cowboy in a
long leather coat, his foot perched on a stump stood watching a
woman who warmed herself in front of an open fire. The woman’s back
was to the camera but the cool evening sun, half-set behind the
mountains, had offered the photographer just enough light to
capture the man’s profile.
    The picture had a haunting sense of longing
about it. Sarah had loved it, though, and Melody had not wanted to
leave it behind in her empty apartment.
    “If there’s work for me to do,” George said
unexpectedly, “I’d be glad to help, too.”
    Melody started to assure him that it wasn’t
necessary but stopped herself. The man would be bored silly sitting
in the house with Grandmother and Aunt Genevieve. She watched as
Grandmother looked to Bernard for instruction.
    The older man, the man who’d been as kind to
her as any father or grandfather could have been, cupped his
weathered chin with the palm of his hand and considered George.
“I’ll speak to Gino,” he said after a minute.
    Louis took a sip of water. “Maybe he could
help you, Bernard. You’re always complaining that you’ve got enough
work for two people.”
    Bernard didn’t even answer and an
uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Out of the corner of her
eye, Melody looked at George. No doubt he was regretting his offer
to play husband. She had tried to warn him.
    Grandmother smiled at George. “It’s kind of
you to offer, George. I’m sure we’ve plenty to keep you busy. I
know I could use some help with one of my chores. You don’t happen
to have any experience with animals?”
    George nodded. “Some.”
    “I’ve always kept a few riding horses but. .
.well, lately it’s been a struggle to give them the kind of
attention that they’re used to. Do you ride?”
    George sat up straighter in his chair. “I
have,” he said.
    Tilly, who’d been wiping her plate clean with
a piece of bread, paused. “I thought horses were finicky. That it
takes them a long time to warm up to anybody new. Exactly how long
are the two of you planning on staying?”
    With a loud scrape, Aunt Genevieve scooted
her chair back from the table. She stood up and whistled, and the
cat, which must have been under the table, jumped from the floor to
the woman’s skinny shoulder.
    “It doesn’t matter how long, Tilly,” Aunt
Genevieve said, her voice hard. “What matters is that they’re
here.” She looked at her sister and Melody caught the gleam of
tears in her great-aunt’s watery blue eyes.
    For the first time, Melody thought about how
difficult it must be for Genevieve to watch her sister have to give
up the things she loved, to have to slow down. It had to be a
startling realization that they were both of an age where frailty
and ultimately, death, beckoned.
    When Tilly and Louis turned to stare at Aunt
Genevieve, Melody pushed her chair back suddenly, unwilling to let
them examine the woman too