The Christmas Violin Read Online Free Page A

another sip of tea. Dan had thanked her for giving him something he’d lost; Willow wished she had thanked him for giving her something she never had.
    The Old Woman
    The old woman jabbed her fork into her scrambled eggs, which she had smothered in thick ketchup. She followed the forkful of eggs with a bite of buttered toast and a mouthful of fried potatoes with onions. She liked when the ladies from the Catholic church down the street helped at the soup kitchen. They were good cooks, and they never ran out of bacon. She got the two slices she had hoped for.
    She wrapped one slice of bacon in a white napkin and stuffed it in her coat pocket. She’d have that later. Maybe for lunch, along with the roll she had saved from the night before. She took tiny bites of the remaining piece of bacon.
    “Never seen no one eats bacon like that,” the guy with big feet said.
    He had annoyingly sat down near the old woman, something no one else dared to do. They all had learned to stay a good six feet away. It was no secret the woman was a little mean. She liked her space, and if you didn’t give her enough of it, she’d snap like a dog that had been cornered. And you didn’t want her to snap. Snapping led to biting and a bunch of other things. It could turn ugly fast and nobody wanted ugly. So they stayed away. Except Big Feet, who didn’t know any better.
    The old woman peeled back her chapped lips and snarled.
    “All right. All right,” said Big Feet, holding up his big, calloused hand. “But this is how you eats bacon.”
    And he stuffed the entire strip in his mouth, smiling as he chewed and wiping the saliva that slipped down his chin on his shirt sleeve. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. That’s how you eats bacon.”
    The old woman had about six inches left before she would be off the bench, and she inched over to the very end, getting as far away from Big Feet as she could.
    She was in the middle of a sip of coffee when a belch from Big Feet startled her. She jerked. The man was like a shin splint that came out of nowhere and interrupted her routine.
    “That’s mighty fine eatin’,” he bellowed, licking his big lips with a tongue that looked like a giant rubber spatula.
    The old woman wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but she didn’t want it to be her so she paid him no attention. She had other things on her mind. Like how tired she felt all the time. And out of breath. She hated the doctors, though, and hadn’t been to one in years. And she had no plans to go to one now.
    She heard Big Feet say goodbye but she just stared out the window, trying to decide if she had enough energy to walk to the park and watch the pigeons. She decided to go to the library instead and find a warm corner to rest. If she was lucky, no one would bother her there.
    Charlie Shue saw that the old woman was preparing to leave. He walked over to take her tray so she wouldn’t have to struggle returning it. He nodded and smiled. “Have a great day.”
    The old woman half nodded and pushed her metal cart past him toward the exit. With a pace that would pain most people to watch, she lumbered down the busy street.
    She tried to ignore all the eyes that locked on her like missiles on a target. Every half block, she’d stop to rest, sucking in deep breaths. When she got to the crosswalk, she waited for the walking light. She was never fast enough to make it across the street before the white light turned red. Today was no exception.
    A young man in a blue Mustang leaned on his horn. It didn’t make her go any faster. She couldn’t. But he didn’t seem to understand that, or care. Everyone was in a hurry to go somewhere, the old lady thought. Except her.
    Peter
    Peter had dozed during the flight.
    The woman beside him lightly tapped his arm. “We’re landing.”
    Peter jerked awake, surprised that he had fallen into such a cavernous sleep.
    “On behalf of the flight crew, thank you for flying with us and have a great day in