More Than Words Can Say Read Online Free Page B
Author: Robert Barclay
always treasure it.”
“I know you will, honey,” Lucy answered. “I know.”
At last, Lucy seemed to buck up a little. “And now,” she said, “let’s go and rejoin your father. We both need his strength right now. And we’ll see if we can eat something. God knows there’s enough food!”
Glad to see that her mother had at least partly rejoined the land of the living, Chelsea smiled.
“Sure, Mom,” she said. “I’m glad that Dad’s here, too.”
Without further ado, the grieving mother and daughter went back into the house and slowly made their way across the spacious living room.
Chapter 3
L ater that night, Chelsea juggled her keys and a paper bag containing some leftovers for Dolly while simultaneously struggling to unlock her town house door. It wasn’t going well, and a thunderstorm was fast approaching. Just as the first drops fell, she at last made her way inside and switched on the lights.
Not surprisingly, Dolly sat waiting for her. Dolly was a gorgeous, light-colored golden retriever with big, brown eyes and a warm heart. On seeing Chelsea, she barked and happily jumped up, innocently adding to her mistress’s predicament.
“Yes, I know you’re hungry,” Chelsea said. “Don’t worry—I’ve got something special for you tonight.”
After finally placing her items atop the foyer table, Chelsea tousled Dolly’s ears. “Haff you been goot?” she asked. “Because eef you haven’t, vee haff vays awff makink you talk!”
“ Woof! ” was Dolly’s ubiquitous reply.
Chelsea released Dolly into the backyard, then she unwrapped the plate of meatloaf she had selected from the bounty at her mother’s house and she set it on the floor. When Dolly returned she immediately tore into the food, her tail wagging furiously as she nosed the plate hither and yon.
Hoping to assuage some of her tension and grief, Chelsea took a long, hot shower. She then donned a bathrobe, put her wet hair up in a towel turban, and poured a glass of Bordeaux. She carried her wine to the living room sofa, where she could watch the gathering storm through the windows. After lighting several candles, she dimmed the lights, reclined on the couch, and took a welcome sip of wine.
The rain was coming harder now, the heavy drops forming silvery rivulets on her windowpanes and curiously distorting everything that lay beyond them. Dolly soon appeared and jumped atop the couch. Just then, another lightning bolt flashed across the night sky, followed by a strong thunderclap. Unlike many dogs, Dolly was never frightened by storms.
Chelsea took another sip of wine and again looked out the window. Even as a child she had always loved rainstorms—the way they smelled and how they always made everything seem clean and new. Then her thoughts turned inward, and she closed her eyes for several moments. Her beloved grandmother was gone, and the mere thought of Brooke’s passing still stabbed unrelentingly at her wounded heart.
Almost immediately, she began to cry. Perhaps her tears came so suddenly because she was at last alone. Or maybe the death of her grandmother had finally settled into her soul. Whatever the reason, she let her tears flow freely this time, causing her emotional surrender to somehow feel both good and bad.
She had worshipped her grandmother, and valiantly attempting to withstand this huge loss was nearly more than she could bear. For the last two days, she had steadfastly tried to be the same capable woman that she had always been. But when darkness at last fell and she was alone, her disguise quickly crumbled, just as it had done tonight. Even when she tried to be tough, the unbearable sadness bled through her carefully crafted façade. It appeared in her face, in her mannerisms, and in her reticence to believe that her grandmother was really gone.
The funeral was tomorrow, and she hugely dreaded laying Gram to her final rest. Like most people, Chelsea believed in attaining closure. But this time her
“I know you will, honey,” Lucy answered. “I know.”
At last, Lucy seemed to buck up a little. “And now,” she said, “let’s go and rejoin your father. We both need his strength right now. And we’ll see if we can eat something. God knows there’s enough food!”
Glad to see that her mother had at least partly rejoined the land of the living, Chelsea smiled.
“Sure, Mom,” she said. “I’m glad that Dad’s here, too.”
Without further ado, the grieving mother and daughter went back into the house and slowly made their way across the spacious living room.
Chapter 3
L ater that night, Chelsea juggled her keys and a paper bag containing some leftovers for Dolly while simultaneously struggling to unlock her town house door. It wasn’t going well, and a thunderstorm was fast approaching. Just as the first drops fell, she at last made her way inside and switched on the lights.
Not surprisingly, Dolly sat waiting for her. Dolly was a gorgeous, light-colored golden retriever with big, brown eyes and a warm heart. On seeing Chelsea, she barked and happily jumped up, innocently adding to her mistress’s predicament.
“Yes, I know you’re hungry,” Chelsea said. “Don’t worry—I’ve got something special for you tonight.”
After finally placing her items atop the foyer table, Chelsea tousled Dolly’s ears. “Haff you been goot?” she asked. “Because eef you haven’t, vee haff vays awff makink you talk!”
“ Woof! ” was Dolly’s ubiquitous reply.
Chelsea released Dolly into the backyard, then she unwrapped the plate of meatloaf she had selected from the bounty at her mother’s house and she set it on the floor. When Dolly returned she immediately tore into the food, her tail wagging furiously as she nosed the plate hither and yon.
Hoping to assuage some of her tension and grief, Chelsea took a long, hot shower. She then donned a bathrobe, put her wet hair up in a towel turban, and poured a glass of Bordeaux. She carried her wine to the living room sofa, where she could watch the gathering storm through the windows. After lighting several candles, she dimmed the lights, reclined on the couch, and took a welcome sip of wine.
The rain was coming harder now, the heavy drops forming silvery rivulets on her windowpanes and curiously distorting everything that lay beyond them. Dolly soon appeared and jumped atop the couch. Just then, another lightning bolt flashed across the night sky, followed by a strong thunderclap. Unlike many dogs, Dolly was never frightened by storms.
Chelsea took another sip of wine and again looked out the window. Even as a child she had always loved rainstorms—the way they smelled and how they always made everything seem clean and new. Then her thoughts turned inward, and she closed her eyes for several moments. Her beloved grandmother was gone, and the mere thought of Brooke’s passing still stabbed unrelentingly at her wounded heart.
Almost immediately, she began to cry. Perhaps her tears came so suddenly because she was at last alone. Or maybe the death of her grandmother had finally settled into her soul. Whatever the reason, she let her tears flow freely this time, causing her emotional surrender to somehow feel both good and bad.
She had worshipped her grandmother, and valiantly attempting to withstand this huge loss was nearly more than she could bear. For the last two days, she had steadfastly tried to be the same capable woman that she had always been. But when darkness at last fell and she was alone, her disguise quickly crumbled, just as it had done tonight. Even when she tried to be tough, the unbearable sadness bled through her carefully crafted façade. It appeared in her face, in her mannerisms, and in her reticence to believe that her grandmother was really gone.
The funeral was tomorrow, and she hugely dreaded laying Gram to her final rest. Like most people, Chelsea believed in attaining closure. But this time her