Read Online The Seary Line by Nicole Lundrigan - Free Book Online

space. An abundance of miniature outfits,nearly too small for the boy now. As though someone, an experienced seamstress, had created with feverish intensity, and then suddenly stopped. Those tiny overalls, pants, sweaters would hardly be worn by the intended owner. And at the time, she recalled, that saddened her more than anything else. That this small boy, so lost in the world, would barely get a chance to feel the affection in the stitches, the touch that still lingered in the fabric.
    Delia stepped away from the window, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and sat down in the rocker. She wanted so badly to watch her family, watch her husband bend and lift in the cool October air, the children, cheeks flushed, pretend to labour diligently while they covertly played. She still hadn’t gotten used to how enormous Percy became when the children arrived. His hands were dinner plates when he patted Amos’s back, his thighs, like overnight logs, when he sat beside Stella on a bench.
    She longed to compare them just now, but she could see nothing. Absolutely nothing, only a handful of old man’s beard clinging to the trunks of those cursed trees. Next fine day, she would tear away as much of it as she could reach, burn every shred.
    â€œYou are a ridiculous woman,” she said aloud as she pictured herself with both feet planted firmly against a trunk, two fists gripping the stringy moss, tree howling. “And now look. You’re talking to yourself.”
    In the past five years her life had changed more than she ever would have imagined. The carefree existence between Percy and herself had vanished: the teasing, their special unspoken banter, the quiet dinners beside the stove when their toes would touch underneath the small table. With the arrival of Stella, and compounded by Amos, Percy had become deathly serious. He rarely smiled, and within sixmonths of parenthood, his hair had morphed from the shiny black she adored to the peppered fur of a winter hare. Taking care of one had been pleasant, but three became overwhelming, and sucked the marrow from his bones.
    Delia wandered around every inch of the kitchen, tapping her shoe in each corner, running her hand along every smooth surface. Caged inside her own home, and she was convinced this confinement contributed to her exhaustion. She sat upon the daybed again, breathing laboured due to her walking, and she listened intently. Gusts pushed at her home, twigs tickled the windows. Inside was glaringly still. She hated being alone.
    â€œHow long you going to be gone, Percy?” Delia had asked as they hauled on dusty boots, hats, sweaters.
    â€œNot long,” he’d replied. “We got work to do. Just because it’s fall, don’t mean things let up.”
    â€œI knows.”
    Delia was on the daybed, and as Percy unfurled a blanket, he nudged her backwards with his elbow. Unintentional, perhaps, but the gentle propelling riled her. Then he snapped the blanket in the air, tucked it around her, securely, intestine around the skinny sausage.
    â€œGod, Percy, I got to breathe.”
    â€œI would hope so.”
    â€œAre you going to be long?” Her voice echoed inside her head, the annoying repetition. A syrupy neediness that sickened her.
    â€œYou needn’t worry yourself about that, maid.”
    â€œI idn’t worried, just you knows I don’t like to be by myself is all.”
    â€œWell, you’re not alone. Why, there’s . . . You got. . .” He looked around the room. “Stella can stay with you. Right, miss?”
    â€œNoooo,” Stella whined. The child’s undersized sweater was tucked into oversized pants, and when she gripped Percy’s forearm, dangled there, her silky belly was exposed, pants threatening to tumble. “I wants to work.”
    â€œAnd you needn’t think I’s staying in,” Amos announced. Delia turned, stung. Over the years, Percy had become the pleasure,