Loving Linsey Read Online Free

someone’s life. Contribute something lasting to the community . . .
    Finished, Addie carefully refolded the paper. “This is quite a list.”
    â€œI know.” Linsey couldn’t remember everything she’d written, but by the time she’d been through, she’d filled all of one page and half of another. “Will you help me?”
    Addie jerked to her feet and strode to the window. For a long time she said nothing. She simply stood there with her arms around her middle, looking vulnerable and lost, so much like the little girl who had come to live at Briar House so many years ago.
    Oh, Lordy, she’d known Addie would take the news hard. She’d always been the moresensitive of the two, which, Linsey supposed, accounted for why she herself sought so desperately to remain calm, composed, and collected now. To be strong for Addie. The two of them had been like bread and butter since they were five years old, when Linsey’s father and Addie’s mother sent Addie here to live. She’d been such a shy and withdrawn little creature then, with hair like sunshine and somber olive-brown eyes too big for her face—so opposite from Linsey, who had inherited her father’s vibrant coloring and zest for adventure.
    Where had all the time gone?
    It seemed like just yesterday that she and Addie had gotten caught stealing a rabbit from the local butcher so it wouldn’t end up in the stewpot. Then there had been the summer they decided to “cure” Addie of her fear of heights by jumping off the rocks at Turtle Point—it had taken Addie’s broken leg six weeks to mend.
    Images continued to roll through Linsey in a bittersweet wave. Tea parties at two in the morning. Skinny dipping in the minister’s pond. Linsey’s first kiss from that awful Harvey boy. They’d practically scrubbed her lips off her face, trying to get rid of the taste. And the day Addie got her teaching certificate—how they’d celebrated by eating so much ice cream that they’d emptied their stomachs on Daisy and Maisy Bender’s front porch.
    When Addie’s sorrow-filled gaze lifted to hers, Linsey knew she’d been remembering, too.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do when you’re gone?” she whispered. “Who will I turn to at the end of a trying day? Who will help me plan my schedules, sit with me in church, and spin dreams under the clouds?”
    Unshed tears scalded the back of Linsey’s eyes. “Oh, Addie . . .”
    She pushed herself off the coverlet and met her sister at the window. Together they stared out over the yard, where a line of shedding cedars marked the back property line, and the broadleaf sweet gums displayed a riot of burnt orange and gold. Vibrantly feathered blue jays and cardinals dived from the branches, then soared up again in a spectacular aerial performance. In spite of the burst of color outside the window, the waning afternoon remained as drab and dreary as gray wool, matching their mood.
    â€œI never thought anything could ever come between us,” Addie said.
    Linsey swallowed. A lump the size of Texas slid down her throat. “Me either.” Forcing a bright note to her voice, she chimed, “Look at it this way; I’m not dead yet. I have until the year is out—that gives us three good months together.”
    â€œAt best.”
    The softly spoken words made Linsey’s heart constrict. “Yes. At best.”
    Silently their heads tilted into each other. Temple pressed against temple. Hands clasped in a plea for strength and courage.
    Linsey wished she could find words of wisdom.Of comfort. But there was nothing left to say.
    â€œI love you, Linsey-woolsey.”
    The childhood nickname nearly shattered her flagging composure. “I love you, too, Addie.”
    A chilly draft roused Linsey from sleep the next morning. Keeping her eyes closed, she lay still, relishing the breath of