Read Online Stranger in the House by Patricia MacDonald - Free Book Online Page A

seat. “Tom, do you hear?” Thomas placed his glass deliberately on the coaster and stood up. “It sounds like a car in the driveway.” His voice was steady.
    “Tracy,” Anna cried out.
    A crash from the direction of the kitchen was her answer. Anna ran through the dining room and threw open the kitchen door. “What happened?” she demanded.
    Tracy faced her defiantly. Anna looked from her daughter’s face to the ragged hunk of chocolate cake, upended and stuck to the linoleum by its icing. Jagged pieces of the cake plate were scattered about the floor. Another huge piece of cake tilted precariously on the edge of the sink. Icing was smeared on the countertop.
    “I was moving the plate, and it fell when you screamed.”
    Anna clenched her fists. “You know you weren’t supposed to touch that. I made that especially for Paul’s homecoming.”
    “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Tracy said sullenly.
    “Clean it up,” Anna said. “This minute.”
    Thomas appeared in the doorway. “The police car is in the driveway. Hurry up.”
    “She has to clean this mess up,” Anna insisted, backing out the kitchen door.
    “Later,” said Thomas. “Get in here. Both of you.”
    Tracy passed by Thomas, wearing the suggestion of a smirk. Anna gazed, as if mesmerized, at the lump of chocolate on the floor. Then she got down on her knees and began mechanically to scoop up the cake with her hands.
    “Anna.” Thomas bent over and lifted her up gently by the elbow. “Leave it.”
    Slowly Anna rose to her feet and wiped her hands on the towel that he handed to her. She looked helplessly at her husband.
    “We’ll close the kitchen door,” he told her. “It will be all right.”
    The doorbell rang through the house from the direction of the foyer. Thomas and Anna’s eyes met in a surge of apprehension.
    “This is it, darling,” he said softly. “Let’s go.”
    Anna took his hand, and he led her out to the living room, where Tracy was sprawled on the sofa. Thomas reached for Tracy’s hand, but she shook him off and jerked herself to her feet.
    The doorbell rang again. Anna approached the front door and then stood still, as if paralyzed.
    Passing by her, Thomas strode to the front door and opened it. Holding her trembling hands clutched together, Anna walked up behind her husband’s back and looked out.
    The night was dark, but the coach lamp beside the door threw its light over the front steps and the figure standing there. Drawn by the brightness of the light, a battery of dun-colored moths swarmed to the screen door and flattened themselves against it, beating their dusty wings in agitation against the grid. Through the whirring, jumpy mosaic formed by the congestion of wings, Anna saw the pale, narrow face of a teenaged boy. His brown hair was long and ragged, falling across his forehead like a dark scar. He wore faded jeans, black high-top sneakers, a T-shirt, and a faded camouflage vest with ragged armholes. His deep-set amber eyes, ringed by grayish circles, looked warily from the couple in the doorway to the squadron of nocturnal insects besieging the screen.
    Thomas pushed the screen door out and motioned for the boy to hurry in. “Come in,” he said.
    Paul struggled through the narrow opening and stepped into the foyer. On one shoulder he supported an old duffel bag. In his other hand he held a cardboard carrying case. For a moment they all stared at one another.
    Then Anna took a step toward him and reached out her arms.
    The boy lifted the cardboard traveling box and held it between them. A cat’s meow emanated from inside the box. “I forgot to ask you on the phone,” the boy said, “about my cat.”
    Tears filled Anna’s eyes, blurring his face out of focus. She nodded, unable to speak.
    “Welcome, Paul,” said Thomas, stepping back to let the boy pass by him.
    “It’s Billy,” said the boy. For a minute Thomas stared at him.
    The boy pointed to the name embroidered on the pocket flap of his