Into the Darkness Read Online Free Page A

season?”
    “Right,” Dad said, raising his glass. “Anyway, to the new neighbors, whoever they are, as long as they don’t have an annoying barking dog or something.”
    Mom lifted her wineglass. I lifted mine, too.
    “Their last name is Matthews,” I said after we all had taken a sip.
    “Oh?” Dad began his salad. “This is a good dressing.”
    “I didn’t meet the husband and wife, just their son.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Brayden.”
    “Brayden. That’s an unusual name,” Dad said. “Interesting.”
    “Which fits him,” I said.
    “Why?”
    “He seems unusual.”
    “In a good or bad way?” Dad quickly followed up.
    I thought a moment and shrugged. “Good.”
    “How old is he?” Mom asked, suddenly looking suspicious at the way I had responded to my father’s question.
    “About my age, maybe a little older,” I said.
    “Sooooo,” she said, raising her eyebrows and looking at Dad, who broadened his smile. “Good-looking? On a scale of one to ten,” she added, fixing her gaze on Dad. “If men can do it, rate women all the time the way some people rate diamonds . . .”
    Dad put up his hands. “Who has time to rate women?”
    “Yes, like it takes time,” Mom said. She turned to me. “Well?”
    I shrugged. “Eleven, I guess,” I said, and they both went into stop action. That made me laugh. “We just spoke for a few minutes. Apparently, they travel a great deal. His father is some kind of genius who works in something called a brain trust.”
    “Is that so? What do they study?” Dad asked.
    “Economics . . . world economics, top-secret stuff, he said.”
    “Good. Maybe he’ll help me find a way to lower my insurance costs.”
    “I got the feeling he works mainly in theories and not . . .”
    “Mundane, everyday stuff like me,” Dad said.
    “What do you mean, you? I think that description fits my job description more than yours,” Mom said.
    Dad raised his hands again. “Well rebuked. I admit it. I had trouble with simple multiplication and division. Your mother is an absolute whiz with numbers. If it weren’t for her, we’d be bankrupt.”
    “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mom said.
    “I’m not looking to go anywhere else,” Dad said. Mom laughed and then began to serve our main dish.
    I suppose I should say I was blessed having parents like mine. For one thing, they seemed continually in love. I knew everyone’s mother and father were supposed to be in love, but when I met any of them or spent time with any of them, I had the feeling that, yes, maybe they had fallen in love once, but somehow life had put a sort of crust around their feelings. I think they had gotten too used to each other and took everything for granted, even smiles and laughter. For my parents, almost everythingone of them said still seemed surprising to the other. I could see the delight on their faces.
    Maybe it was corny, but to me, they seemed never to grow tired of looking at each other with what I had come to understand was pure desire. They wanted to be together, to go out together, and to go on trips together. It seemed so important that any discovery either one made be immediately shared, and anything they could discover together was always extra special.
    If any of her female friends asked her why it was so important they always do so much together, Mom loved to quote Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s line, “Beauty without the beloved is like a sword through the heart.”
    Some of her friends nodded and smiled; some looked completely puzzled but were obviously afraid to ask for a further explanation.
    “Tell us more about him,” Mom said. “This eleven, Brayden Matthews.”
    “I don’t know all that much yet. In fact,” I said, “I don’t know anything except that he likes reading Thoreau.”
    “Thoreau?” Dad shook his head. “‘Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.’”
    “Why, Gregory Taylor, the only things I ever hear you quote these days are prices on rings and