Pale Immortal Read Online Free
finger at Evan.
At that time his parents had been comfortable but not wealthy. His father was a cop, his mother a substitute teacher. That was when Evan's illness was diagnosed and before medical bills began draining them of their savings. They'd suggested a paternity test, but Lydia had refused.
Then one day Lydia and her mother were gone. Just packed up and left, which led many, Evan included, to speculate that the pregnancy had been a fabrication. Evan didn't give her much thought after that, because by that time his illness had taken hold. Their coming together, his loss of virginity to someone who'd meant nothing to him, had left him feeling sick and ashamed. He was just glad she was gone.
Now that he thought about it, Lydia marked the beginning of the end of Evan's childhood and life as he'd known it. Strangely, he'd forgotten her existence until now.
So she'd stuck to her story about Evan being the father. At least she'd recognized the need to come up with an explanation for the kid's sake. She couldn't very well tell him she'd slept with half the town and hadn't a clue who the father was.
A kid's life shouldn't be so messed up.
Evan had no idea how to approach the father issue. Graham had just tried to kill himself. Better not to say anything for now. He knew nothing about talking to kids anyway, especially suicidal ones.
Graham's spoon hit the floor with a clatter. It took a few seconds for Evan to realize he was asleep, chin on his chest.
"Come on." Evan grabbed the boy by the arm.
He led Graham through the living room, around a maze of books, down a hall to a small bedroom Evan used mostly for storage and overflow.
He'd grown up in this house. The bedroom had been his at one time. After Evan's mother died and his father retired early and moved to Florida, Evan bought the place. It needed a lot of work, and at one time he'd thought he would take on the restoration, but that idea had lost steam and pretty soon was forgotten like lots of other thoughts.
The twin bed in the corner was stacked with leather-bound antiquarian books and boxes of manuscripts, notes and research from past projects or future projects. The room smelled stuffy and dusty, like old leather and moldy, yellowing paper.
Imagining the room through Graham's eyes served to underscore for Evan the reclusiveness of his own existence. He wasn't yet thirty-five, but the room looked like it belonged to some old fart who spent his days shifting piles of history around while wondering where the time had gone.
Once Evan cleared the bed, Graham tumbled forward onto the mattress, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it to himself. A second later he was out. Evan dug a comforter from the closet, straightened Graham's legs, covered him, and left the room.
Back in the kitchen, Evan prepared a cup of tea and sat down at the table.
Was Lydia at it again? Was this another attempt to extort money? Had she read a recent article about him? Did she know he was fairly successful?
Evan picked up the phone and called the police to see if Graham had been reported missing. He could be a runaway, for all Evan really knew.
"We'll have to look into it," said the male officer on the other end of the line. That was followed by a click of computer keys. "Nothing jumping out at me No Amber Alert or national announcement. In the meantime, I'll connect you to Social Services At the very least, we have an unattended juvenile on our hands."
Evan was connected.
"All we can do is lock him up until we get this figured out," a woman told him.
"Jail? That seems unnecessary. Can't you find someone to take him in temporarily?"
"Nobody wants to take in a boy that age, Mr. Stroud. No telling where he's been or what he's done. Would you be able to put him up until we find his mother?"
"Out of the question."
"Then we'll dispatch an officer to take him off your hands."
"Now?"
"Someone should be there within the hour."
"He's asleep."
"Please make sure he's awake and ready."
"Can't
At that time his parents had been comfortable but not wealthy. His father was a cop, his mother a substitute teacher. That was when Evan's illness was diagnosed and before medical bills began draining them of their savings. They'd suggested a paternity test, but Lydia had refused.
Then one day Lydia and her mother were gone. Just packed up and left, which led many, Evan included, to speculate that the pregnancy had been a fabrication. Evan didn't give her much thought after that, because by that time his illness had taken hold. Their coming together, his loss of virginity to someone who'd meant nothing to him, had left him feeling sick and ashamed. He was just glad she was gone.
Now that he thought about it, Lydia marked the beginning of the end of Evan's childhood and life as he'd known it. Strangely, he'd forgotten her existence until now.
So she'd stuck to her story about Evan being the father. At least she'd recognized the need to come up with an explanation for the kid's sake. She couldn't very well tell him she'd slept with half the town and hadn't a clue who the father was.
A kid's life shouldn't be so messed up.
Evan had no idea how to approach the father issue. Graham had just tried to kill himself. Better not to say anything for now. He knew nothing about talking to kids anyway, especially suicidal ones.
Graham's spoon hit the floor with a clatter. It took a few seconds for Evan to realize he was asleep, chin on his chest.
"Come on." Evan grabbed the boy by the arm.
He led Graham through the living room, around a maze of books, down a hall to a small bedroom Evan used mostly for storage and overflow.
He'd grown up in this house. The bedroom had been his at one time. After Evan's mother died and his father retired early and moved to Florida, Evan bought the place. It needed a lot of work, and at one time he'd thought he would take on the restoration, but that idea had lost steam and pretty soon was forgotten like lots of other thoughts.
The twin bed in the corner was stacked with leather-bound antiquarian books and boxes of manuscripts, notes and research from past projects or future projects. The room smelled stuffy and dusty, like old leather and moldy, yellowing paper.
Imagining the room through Graham's eyes served to underscore for Evan the reclusiveness of his own existence. He wasn't yet thirty-five, but the room looked like it belonged to some old fart who spent his days shifting piles of history around while wondering where the time had gone.
Once Evan cleared the bed, Graham tumbled forward onto the mattress, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it to himself. A second later he was out. Evan dug a comforter from the closet, straightened Graham's legs, covered him, and left the room.
Back in the kitchen, Evan prepared a cup of tea and sat down at the table.
Was Lydia at it again? Was this another attempt to extort money? Had she read a recent article about him? Did she know he was fairly successful?
Evan picked up the phone and called the police to see if Graham had been reported missing. He could be a runaway, for all Evan really knew.
"We'll have to look into it," said the male officer on the other end of the line. That was followed by a click of computer keys. "Nothing jumping out at me No Amber Alert or national announcement. In the meantime, I'll connect you to Social Services At the very least, we have an unattended juvenile on our hands."
Evan was connected.
"All we can do is lock him up until we get this figured out," a woman told him.
"Jail? That seems unnecessary. Can't you find someone to take him in temporarily?"
"Nobody wants to take in a boy that age, Mr. Stroud. No telling where he's been or what he's done. Would you be able to put him up until we find his mother?"
"Out of the question."
"Then we'll dispatch an officer to take him off your hands."
"Now?"
"Someone should be there within the hour."
"He's asleep."
"Please make sure he's awake and ready."
"Can't
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