Read Online Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel by Randall H Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Randall H Miller
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Benning than what happens here after you’ve left.”
“Yeah, I am worried. I’m worried about you—that I’m leaving you to live alone. And I wonder about Luci. I worry she’ll find someone better and forget about me and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m never really alone. But you’re right about that last part. You can’t control those things. You just have to do the right things and pray for the best.”
“But do you think I’ll ever find anyone as special as Luci?”
“You’re asking yourself the wrong question, Mark. That’s what you ask yourself when you’re shopping for a new car. True love doesn’t work that way. When you’re truly in love, you don’t sit around wondering if there’s a better deal out there somewhere. You can’t even consider being with anyone else. You’ll know when you’ve found the right person. Maybe it’s Luci, maybe not. Time will tell.”
“Have you ever been truly in love?”
Agnes stood up, tightened the robe around her waist, and stuffed her hands into its front pockets. She took a deep breath and smiled.
“Treat Luci right. Always be honest with her and respect her enough to give her the space to make her own decisions. Be patient. You’re young, Mark. If it is meant to be, things will work out. These things can take time.”
“Yeah, but how much time?”
She began slowly climbing the stairs and continued to speak over her shoulder.
“Who knows? Life always has more questions than answers, Mark. It could take twenty minutes. It might take twenty years.”
Twenty years. And here I am in the same exact spot.
Sixteen
As Mark slowly cracked the door to Agnes’s office, light from the kitchen splashed against the far wall and illuminated the one and only crucifix in the house.
“There’s no need to wear your faith on your sleeve, let alone every wall of the house,” Agnes once said to Mark on the way home from visiting a friend whose home looked like a shrine at the Vatican.
He felt for the switch against the inside wall and flipped the lights on. The room was bare and his footsteps made no sound as he drifted across the thin area rug that covered all but a few inches of the small room. He pulled the top drawer open with both hands and discovered a small wooden box that had seen better days. A thin rubber band held a small piece of light blue paper in place. Written on the paper in black ink was Mark’s name.
What’s this, Agnes? Is this a goodbye? A parting gift perhaps? The number for the plumber?
As he contemplated the contents of the box, soft knocking at the side door intruded on his thoughts. He closed the drawer, flipped off the office lights, peered around the corner in the direction of the noise, and paused. He had heard no car but could see that the sensor light had kicked on. The knocker had approached the house on foot and was not deterred by the light. Through the blinds, he could see the figure of a person. Mark took comfort as the meek knocking continued. Bad guys—at least the kind he was used to dealing with—didn’t tend to stand in the spotlight and announce their arrival.
“Who is it?”
A muffled voice answered, but he could not make out the words.
“Who?” he repeated.
“It’s Kenny.”
Kenny? Kenny who?
“From next door, Mark,” the voice continued, making Mark wonder if he had been thinking out loud.
Kenny Harrington. Does he still live next door?
He opened the door wide and smiled at the tiny figure in front of him.
“Hi, Kenny.”
Although they were the same age, Kenny’s stature and demeanor had always made him seem younger by comparison. Neither of those things had changed; he was still barely five feet tall, and his slumped shoulders and bowed head made him seem even shorter.
“Hi, Mark,” he whispered. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me, Kenny. Come on in. Want a beer?”
Kenny stood straighter and raised his head at the
“Yeah, I am worried. I’m worried about you—that I’m leaving you to live alone. And I wonder about Luci. I worry she’ll find someone better and forget about me and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m never really alone. But you’re right about that last part. You can’t control those things. You just have to do the right things and pray for the best.”
“But do you think I’ll ever find anyone as special as Luci?”
“You’re asking yourself the wrong question, Mark. That’s what you ask yourself when you’re shopping for a new car. True love doesn’t work that way. When you’re truly in love, you don’t sit around wondering if there’s a better deal out there somewhere. You can’t even consider being with anyone else. You’ll know when you’ve found the right person. Maybe it’s Luci, maybe not. Time will tell.”
“Have you ever been truly in love?”
Agnes stood up, tightened the robe around her waist, and stuffed her hands into its front pockets. She took a deep breath and smiled.
“Treat Luci right. Always be honest with her and respect her enough to give her the space to make her own decisions. Be patient. You’re young, Mark. If it is meant to be, things will work out. These things can take time.”
“Yeah, but how much time?”
She began slowly climbing the stairs and continued to speak over her shoulder.
“Who knows? Life always has more questions than answers, Mark. It could take twenty minutes. It might take twenty years.”
Twenty years. And here I am in the same exact spot.
Sixteen
As Mark slowly cracked the door to Agnes’s office, light from the kitchen splashed against the far wall and illuminated the one and only crucifix in the house.
“There’s no need to wear your faith on your sleeve, let alone every wall of the house,” Agnes once said to Mark on the way home from visiting a friend whose home looked like a shrine at the Vatican.
He felt for the switch against the inside wall and flipped the lights on. The room was bare and his footsteps made no sound as he drifted across the thin area rug that covered all but a few inches of the small room. He pulled the top drawer open with both hands and discovered a small wooden box that had seen better days. A thin rubber band held a small piece of light blue paper in place. Written on the paper in black ink was Mark’s name.
What’s this, Agnes? Is this a goodbye? A parting gift perhaps? The number for the plumber?
As he contemplated the contents of the box, soft knocking at the side door intruded on his thoughts. He closed the drawer, flipped off the office lights, peered around the corner in the direction of the noise, and paused. He had heard no car but could see that the sensor light had kicked on. The knocker had approached the house on foot and was not deterred by the light. Through the blinds, he could see the figure of a person. Mark took comfort as the meek knocking continued. Bad guys—at least the kind he was used to dealing with—didn’t tend to stand in the spotlight and announce their arrival.
“Who is it?”
A muffled voice answered, but he could not make out the words.
“Who?” he repeated.
“It’s Kenny.”
Kenny? Kenny who?
“From next door, Mark,” the voice continued, making Mark wonder if he had been thinking out loud.
Kenny Harrington. Does he still live next door?
He opened the door wide and smiled at the tiny figure in front of him.
“Hi, Kenny.”
Although they were the same age, Kenny’s stature and demeanor had always made him seem younger by comparison. Neither of those things had changed; he was still barely five feet tall, and his slumped shoulders and bowed head made him seem even shorter.
“Hi, Mark,” he whispered. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me, Kenny. Come on in. Want a beer?”
Kenny stood straighter and raised his head at the
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