Brush of Shade Read Online Free Page B

scratchy, like fine sandpaper
had rubbed across my skin. Probably from the dust I’d kicked up.
    I pushed the
door closed just enough for it to catch but not hard enough so it would stick.
The sound of rustling in the bushes didn’t bother me. Our property bordered a
small brook and open country. Nature meant wildlife. I’d seen it in books and
at the zoo. If it wanted to munch its dinner in the bushes, fine by me. The
squeaking of the steps silenced my visitor.
    “Sorry about
that,” I whispered.
    Nature answered
in what sounded like my name spoken in a raspy voice. My heart jumped to my
throat. I stepped closer to the clump of burning bushes, peering through the
branches. Stupid, this is what the character does in a movie right before
something leaps out to devour her.
    “Olivia,” Aunt
Claire called from patio.
    Nature resumed
its munching. I shook my head and realized that I was shaking. Obviously my
imagination was in overdrive. Nobody would be hiding in the bushes at the ends
of the earth. “Coming!” I shouted. Screw dignity. I
hobbled away as fast as I could.
     “Sorry,
were you looking for me?” I asked out of breath by the time I stepped onto the
brick patio. “I felt like a walk. It’s such a pretty fall evening.” I closed my
mouth before I started to babble.
    Aunt Claire
reached past me and closed the gate with a decided clank. “I’d prefer you
stayed out of the gazebo. It’s not been kept up. The wood is probably rotten,”
she explained as though I was five-years-old.
    “It seemed
sturdy to me. Remember our agreement, the one where you promised not to hover
so much.”
    “It’s been an
emotional day.” The wear was apparent in her voice. “Have you taken your
pills?” Her gaze dropped from my face to fall with concern onto my hand.
“What’s this? You’re bleeding.”
    “I got a
splinter on the wood. No big deal.”
    “But you’re
bleeding. Get inside,” she ordered. “Your bathroom has a first aid kit.”
    “It’s just a
cut, not major surgery.” I held the door open and waited for her to step
inside. To my surprise, she turned and scanned the backyard. I let the screen
shut and waited, watching through the mesh as she leaned heavily on the gate.
My sensible side argued that she was probably recalling a favorite moment from
her childhood. The side of me that had seen one too many scary movies wasn’t
exactly convinced. She tilted her head to the side like she was straining to
hear something. I held my breath and listened, too. Her body jerked ramrod
straight. I overheard anxious words spoken to an empty yard.
    “I don’t care if
the pact is binding. Not her. Do you hear me? Not her, not
yet.”
    I fled to the
safety of my room. I wanted to believe in the sensible explanation; only I
couldn’t rationalize away my aunt’s strange words. I locked my bathroom door
and collapsed on the edge of the bathtub. Had someone been out there, and had
he called my name? A chill came over me. Grief made people do and say strange
things. Coming home under these circumstances would upset any normal person;
for a sensitive, free spirit like my aunt it was bound to be harder. So what
did it say about me? I rocked back and forth, clutching my arms. Had the stress
of the move, the wake, and the idea of a new school triggered a relapse? But
things had been going so well. I’d achieved normal for most of the afternoon
and had actually felt stirrings of interest beyond the hole in my heart.
    The words I’d
all but convinced myself that I’d imagined during the accident returned to
haunt me. They were disturbingly similar to the ones I’d imagined my aunt
speaking. I found myself still turning them over in my head as I climbed into
bed several hours later. Honor what pact? I pulled the sheet under my chin and
clung to normal. Sleep folded over me, leaving the question for another day.

Chapter
2
     
    A legal-sized
manila envelope was propped against our front door when I got home from