Read Online The Forever Stone by Gloria Repp - Free Book Online Page B

she moved, the dog sat to attention. She opened the bureau drawer, reached for her blue socks, and the paperweight rolled into her hand. The smooth cool surface warmed under her fingers.  
    Dad’s present for her birthday, a month before he died.
    She sat down with it and allowed herself to remember.
    “Mountain laurel,” he’d said of the star-shaped pink flowers. “The blooms look fragile. But the plants grow in rocky woods and swamps, and they’re tough.”
    He put a hand on her shoulder. “Like you, Mollie—lovely, but tough inside.”
    His smile had blessed her. “Always remember, God loves you with His forever-love. I’m praying that He will keep you strong.” 
    She quivered as if she’d been slapped, and grief whirled within her, dark and ravenous.
    She closed her eyes. I’m glad you can’t see me now, Dad . . .  Something’s crippling me.
    After a time, she became aware of warmth that pressed against her knee. The dog gazed at her with troubled brown eyes, and she realized that she had been rocking back and forth, holding the paperweight to her cheek.
    She stroked his soft muzzle and his tail thumped, and she stroked him some more. Finally she hauled herself to her feet. She slipped the paperweight inside a sock, rolled it up as if she were going to bury it, and put it back in the drawer.
    She turned away, scuffed her feet into slippers, walked out of the room. What time was it? Late. She’d check that the doors were locked and get ready for bed.
    The dog showed no inclination to leave. When she opened the bedroom window, he sniffed at the fresh-scented air and flopped back onto the rug as if he intended to stay.
     
    A cold nose was nudging her hand. Sunlight filtered into the room. Ten o’clock already!
    “Thanks a bunch, Hey-You,” she said. “You did a great job!”  
    The dog wagged his tail, accepting her praise, and she sent him outside to run around while she got dressed. Breakfast was scrambled eggs with toast for her and two more sandwiches for him. She ate quickly, thinking about the day ahead.
    Sunday morning. She’d already missed church, if there was one around, and anyway, she didn’t feel inclined to go. Mother wasn’t here to insist that it was the proper thing to do. Freedom!
    She wouldn’t unpack dusty bottles today. She’d take a walk with the dog, and sometime before Aunt Lin came back, she’d return him to Timothy.
    Hey-You bounded ahead of her on the sandy path, detouring to investigate a mouse or chipmunk or whatever scent he picked up. She allowed herself to relax into the stillness of pine trees and sand-laced clearings.
    There’d be wild blueberry bushes along here, from what Dad told her . . .
    No! Pay attention to where you’re going.
    The path slanted down into a congregation of cedar trees, and a minute later she stood in their dignified midst. A wide, slow-moving stream flowed at her feet, sliding past the mossy roots that clung to its banks. It was a dim, enclosed place with the faint tang of cedar, a place for hopeful dreams.
    The dog paused to lap at the water, crossed on a muddy plank, and disappeared into leather-leaved bushes on the other side.
    The first time the path forked, she turned to the left and so did Hey-You, but at the next fork he turned right. He ran a short distance ahead and sat down.
    His comical version of a come-hither look made her laugh. “Tyrant! I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    After that, she let him lead, and she took careful note of the turns. When the sun had passed its zenith, she thought they’d better go back, but the trees were thinning ahead, and the path ended at a paved road. Whitton?
    Sure enough, from here she could see the back of Timothy’s store. Hey-You galloped ahead toward Timothy, who was leaning over the rail of a wide balcony. “Come on up,” he called.
    Hey-You raced up a staircase that slanted across one side of the building, and Timothy opened a gate at the top. “Looks like you both