Read Online Shake Down the Stars by Renee Swindle - Free Book Online

when he reaches for my hand, I let him take it.
    â€œWhere to?”
    We’re back inside the car. I figure now that I’ve shown Selwyn LaDonna’s altar, there is one last place I’d like to visit. I know it’s odd at best to want to show a virtual stranger your daughter’s grave site, but it’s been an odd night to say the least, so I may as well go the distance.
    â€œDrive up MLK and make a right on Sixty-fourth.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    Minutes later, we pull up to a massive front gate with its two large pillars on either side. Selwyn brings the car to a halt. “What’s this?”
    I didn’t tell him where we were going, specifically because of the look he’s giving me right now. “I want to show you one last thing.” I start to get out of the car, but he doesn’t budge, keeping his gaze straight ahead as he stares at the gothic gates and black void just on the other side. His eyes widen, and his hands grip the steering wheel as if the car were careening down a hill. “That’s a cemetery.”
    â€œI know; I can explain.”
    â€œNo need to. I’m afraid this time you’re on your own, Kil.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He looks at me as if I were crazy. “It’s a cemetery, that’s why!”
    â€œSelwyn, come on. Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve practically been arrested and possibly shot at, and now you’re afraid?”
    â€œHell yeah, I’m afraid! You should be, too. My momma always taught me, never go into a cemetery after midnight.”
    â€œYour . . .
momma
?”
    â€œYeah, my
momma.
God rest her soul.”
    I think for a second. “Where are you from, anyway? Before Livermore, I mean.”
    â€œAlabama.”
    I roll my eyes in a manner that says,
That explains so much.
    â€œWhat?” he says. “You have something against Alabama?”
    I hear banjos playing and envision broken-down porches. “No, not in particular.”
    â€œAin’t nothin’ wrong with the South. Despite the way we met, I want you to know you’re looking at a real Southern gentleman right here.”
    â€œOkay. Fine. So tell me why you’re so afraid,
Rhett.
”
    â€œAll kinds of things come out in a cemetery at night. Ghosts, demons—”
    â€œGoblins? Fairies?”
    â€œWatch it,” he says, crossing his arms.
    â€œSelwyn.”
I let my tone do the work for me.
    â€œI’m not going. But if you want to, go right ahead. If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll dial 9-1-1. Go on. Nobody’s stopping you.” He waves a hand. “Bye.”
    I lean back in the seat. “If you believe in demons and ghosts, then you must believe in angels.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œWell, if you believe in angels, then you know that angels are protectors and will protect us from demons.”
    I’m in uncharted territory here. But I also know that talk of angels always makes people go soft. After Hailey died, everyone kept talking about angels and how Hailey was now an angel, as if that was supposed to make her death okay. When I returned to work after my leave of absence, Beatrice Krackau (Mrs. Butt Crack to the students), a teacher I rarely talked to, walked into my room during my prep period and proceeded to stand behind me with her hand on my shoulder as though we were asked to pose for a painting. “She was needed in heaven, that’s all. God needs his angels.”
    I glared up at her from my desk, but she only shrugged in a way that implied there was no fighting God’s need for more angels. “Are you serious?” I asked. “I’m sorry, but if he’s
God
, and assuming
—omnipotent
,
why the fuck does he need angels in the first place?”
    â€œShe’s helping our Lord.”
    â€œShe was four years old! What would God need with a four-year-old child? Get out of here with that shit! I mean