The Weight of Rain Read Online Free Page A

out. The house is beautiful. I’m sure most architects and artists would consider it a masterpiece with a long wraparound porch, wide-paneled siding, and an intricately carved bargeboard along the roofline that looks like it was hand carved. There are matching gablet windows on the second story that make me yearn to curl up with a sketch pad and cup of hot chocolate in this cold drizzle. I can’t imagine why they painted the damn thing such an intrusive color; it nearly matches the lichen moss that blankets several of the large rocks in the front yard.
    “You look lost.” My head jerks from the rocks that rest against the sharp contrast of the garage doors, which are painted a crisp white, to where an older man is standing with a small smile that, even with his unfamiliarity, I can see reaches his eyes.
    I brush the small wisps of hair clinging to the sides of my forehead—likely curled and sticking out at dangerous angles, making me look both younger and homeless. I try to paint a smile on my face and nod. “Yeah, I keep getting turned around. I’m supposed to be on Cedar Drive. Do you happen to know where I can find it?”
    “Cedar Drive? You looking for the Knight residence?” He takes a few steps closer to me, letting the screen door fall shut behind him.
    Relief makes my smile grow. “Yes.”
    “You’re not too far. You’re just going to head up two blocks, take a left on Washington, and head that way three blocks. You’ll see Cedar on your right. It’s a narrow road, easy to miss.”
    “Left on Washington, right on Cedar?” I repeat in question, ensuring that’s all there is to remember.
    “That’s it. You’ll have a small trek to get to their house, but you’ll probably be there in about twenty minutes or so.”
    I don’t have twenty minutes to spare—I’m supposed to be there in four. “Thank you so much for your help. Have a great day.”
    “You should try smiling more.” I have to turn to look back at him because I’m already moving quickly in the direction he pointed. “Smiles like yours make this world a better place.”
    I intentionally don’t smile at his assessment. Instead, I redirect my focus and pick up my pace to cut my time, hoping his twenty-minute prognosis is an estimate of how long it would take him to reach the house.
    Each of my breaths stretches into white clouds of lace as I jog down the road, my ears and lungs burning from the cold though my muscles are too warm. The road is narrow, only wide enough for a single car to pass at a time, and both sides are covered with an encroaching green mass of trees and moss that has made the road both darker and slicker. I haven’t passed a single house since I turned onto Cedar, like I’ve entered another part of Oregon, something closer to Mount Hood, where it’s typical to find houses surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, heavy curtained fir trees, and single dirt roads that you can get lost down for days.
    A turn of the narrow road breaks the monotony of green, and a large cabin-styled house appears with a dark green roof and wide driveway. A loud sigh emits another large billow of white as I hurry toward it.
    Stopping at the front door, I feel the cold roughness of my jeans clinging to my calves from soaking up the water from the road. My heart races as my finger connects with the doorbell while my eyes slowly rove around the porch. It’s stained a dark brown to match the house. The front door matches the dark green roof and is detailed with carvings of small squares and thick lines, bordered by much finer lines that make the door look subtly expensive.
    The door opens as I’m studying the wooden blinds covering the windows facing the porch, all of which are drawn shut. My attention snaps to where a little girl with dark brown hair lying in waves down her petite frame, is staring at me. Her eyes are wide and a sea green that makes me think of an ocean painting I’m currently working on for a class—it would be the