Angel Falls Read Online Free Page A

planned.
    Liam glanced down at his son. He had a sudden flash of memory—Mike staying up late at night to finish the chaps that went with the costume. “You want to drive over to Angel Glen and go trick-or-treating?”
    Bret’s cheeks bunched up as he sucked his thumb, then slowly he shook his head.
    Liam understood. It was Mommy who always organized Halloween. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go.”
    Together they walked outside, into the cold, crisp October night. The air smelled of dying leaves and rich, black earth.
    They climbed into the car and drove home. The garage door, when it opened, cut a whining, scraping hole in their silent cocoon.
    Liam took his son’s hand and led him into the house. They talked in fits and starts—about what, Liam couldn’t have said. He turned on the interior lights, all of them, until the house was awash in false brightness.
    If only it weren’t so damned quiet.
    Make Bret dinner
.
    There, focus on that.
    The phone rang. Mumbling something to Bret, Liam stumbled into the kitchen and answered it.
    “Hi, Liam. It’s Carol. I just heard … really sorry …”
    And so it began.
    Liam sagged against the log wall, hearing but not listening. He watched as Bret went into the living room and lay on the sofa. There was the
hm-click
of the television as it came on.
The Rugrats
. Screamingly loud. Bret stared dry-eyed at his least favorite cartoon, one that only last week he’d said was “for babies.” He curled into a ball and sucked his thumb.
    Liam hung up. He realized a second too late that Carol had still been talking, and he made a mental note to apologize.
    Then he stood in the empty kitchen, wondering what in the hell to fix Bret for dinner. He opened the refrigerator and stared at a confusing jumble of jars and cartons. He found a plastic container of leftover spaghetti sauce but had no idea how old it was. In the freezer, he found dozens of similar containers, each marked with a date and contents, but no instructions for cooking.
    The phone rang again. This time it was Marion from the local 4-H chapter. He tossed out a jumbled explanation, thanked her for her prayers, and hung up.
    He didn’t make it five feet before the phone rang again. This time he ignored it and went into the livingroom, where he knelt beside his son. “What do you say we order pizza?”
    Bret popped the thumb out of his mouth. “Jerry doesn’t deliver on Halloween. Not after the Monroes tee-peed his truck last year.”
    “Oh.”
    “It’s stir-fry night, anyway. Mommy and me put the chicken in its sauce last night. It’s marinatin’.”
    “Stir-fry.” Chicken and veggies. How hard could it be? “You want to help me cook it?”
    “You don’t know how.”
    “I can slice open a man’s abdomen, remove his appendix, and sew him back up. I’m sure I can cook one little boy’s dinner.”
    Bret frowned. “I don’t think you need to know all that for stir-fry.”
    “Why don’t you climb up onto one of the kitchen stools? We’ll do it together.”
    “But
I
don’t know how, either.”
    “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be fun. Come on.” He helped Bret off the sofa and followed him into the kitchen. When Bret was settled on the stool, Liam went to the fridge and got out the plastic bags full of veggies and the marinated chicken. After some searching, he found the cutting board and a big knife.
    He started with the mushrooms.
    “Mommy doesn’t put ’shrooms in it. I don’t like ’em.”
    “Oh.” Liam put the mushrooms back in the bag and reached for the cauliflower.
    “Nope.” Bret was starting to look scared. “I tole you you don’t know how to do it …”
    Liam grabbed the broccoli. “This okay?”
    “Uh-huh.
Lots
of trees.”
    He started to chop it up.
    “Littler!” Bret shouted.
    Liam didn’t look up. He sliced the broccoli in small pieces, but the contours made it difficult.
    “You gotta put oil in the wok.”
    The phone rang. Liam reluctantly picked it up. It was Mike’s friend