Read Online Tainted by Brooke Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

you?” he asked just as they reached her car. “I’ve forgotten something. I’ll be right back.”
    Holly watched as he jogged back into the Lobster Pot, wondering what he could have forgotten, then turned her gaze to the sky. There were no stars visible, but she kept looking up anyway.
    Six months after her parents’ deaths, she’d seen an ad in the local paper for grief counseling. There was a weekly meeting of a group of bereaved people in a room in the Town Hall. “It might help” was the tag line on the announcement. The tentative “might” made Holly trust whoever had written it, so she showed up at six o’clock the next Wednesday.
    She couldn’t remember now most of what the twenty or so people had said. They were all distraught, though some were more accepting than others. Not one of them had lost two loved ones within days, and though Holly knew it wasn’t a competition, she felt set apart from the others. She listened without taking much in, never spoke herself and decided halfway through she wouldn’t return. Yet something one man said did make an impact. He was in his forties, she guessed, wearing a suit and tie, as if he’d come straight from work in a bank. His twin brother had died from a heroin overdose two years before.
    â€œI know this is going to sound really bizarre,” he’d stated. “But I have this theory. People we love who die can give us presents. What I mean is, they can make something good happen or not happen or send the right person into our lives at the right time or keep out the wrong ones. They’re allowed to give us three gifts from wherever it is they are.” He looked embarrassed then and squirmed in his chair. “It’s just my personal theory. Be aware of it—that’s all I have to say.”
    Where’d he come up with that? she’d wondered. And why three exactly? “Bizarre” was the right word.
    Or was it?
    Have you sent me Jack? Smart, funny, handsome, compassionate Jack? she asked the sky. Is he your present?
    Jack came out of the restaurant, holding something. When he was a few feet away he said, “Catch,” and tossed it to her. It was a Lobster Pot T-shirt and when she looked up to thank him, she saw he was wearing one over his shirt.
    â€œI almost bought us the pink ones with the garish lobster smoking a cigar plastered all over the front, but then I calmed down and decided the more restrained plain blue one with the discreet logo was better.”
    â€œThank you, and good choice. The cigar-smoking one is a little scary.”
    Opening the car door for her, he asked, “Where exactly are we going?”
    â€œTo Birch Point—it’s where I live. I have a flashlight in the glove compartment. When we get there, we can go down the path to the beach and walk there.”
    â€œSounds perfect.” He closed the door, went to the other side and got in.
    On the way, he asked her about Shoreham and she told him all she could think of, including the story of Nancy the palm reader and her alleged interest in folding bills. As they were crossing the railroad track, she said, “Lift up your feet, Jack.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œWe’re going over a railroad track. It’s bad luck if you don’t take your feet off the floor.”
    Dutifully, he lifted his feet as they crossed the track.
    â€œAnd you do this too? While you’re driving?”
    â€œYes, it’s a family tradition. I’ve done it forever.”
    Katy would always say, “Mommy, quick, pick up your feet,” with such urgency Holly sometimes laughed and sometimes frowned. She could tell Jack about Katy now. Or she could wait until they got to the beach.
    â€œIsn’t it dangerous? Driving with no feet?”
    â€œIt would be more dangerous if I didn’t. Bad luck.”
    â€œRight. Of course. I see. Bad luck. I’m not even going to ask what