Kindred Read Free Page B

pull him into the hallway, out of Uncle Carl’s view.
    “I’ll probably stay here tonight,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
    Isaac presses his lips to my forehead.
    “I know,” he says. “You’ll need to hang out at home more often now that he’s back. And you should.”
    “Yeah, Aunt Bev will need my help, though I get the feeling she’ll deny it.”
    He nods slowly, agreeing with me. His hands cup my elbows and he pulls me closer, but this time I fight the urge to give in to the smallest show of affection with Uncle Carl being in the house again. Despite the wheelchair, I feel like he might come around the corner and catch us. A faint, knowing grin warms Isaac’s eyes and his hands fall away, the warmth of his fingertips lingering on my skin long after they had been there.
    “I’ll be on the porch with Nate,” he says as he slips quietly out the front door just feet from where I stand.
    I still can’t believe he’s mine. Every night that we’re not together, I lie in bed and stare across the room out the window and think of Isaac Mayfair. About the extraordinary events that unfolded seven months ago that still to this day, I usually have a hard time accepting. I think of my short life with him and can’t help but feel as though already it’s been a lifetime. Trauma and death has a way of speeding up how life’s natural balance usually works. It fills in the little gaps usually reserved for more trivial things, like break-ups and the trials of trying to fit in. It speeds things up like growth and experience and love.
    I think in the beginning, the loss of my sister was what forced me so easily into Isaac’s world and into his heart. Where she tore my heart to pieces, Isaac was there to put it back together again. But there’s one thing that constantly gnaws at the back of my mind about that. To love someone so deeply means also that it will hurt a thousand times more when he disappoints or leaves you.
    I try not to think about it, but it’s unavoidable.
    One day, Isaac Mayfair will hurt me whether with words or ways or that inevitable goodbye.
    Because nothing lasts forever.
    I look toward the tall, thin window beside the front door and watch Isaac’s figure move across it, obscured by the sheer, lacy white curtain. I can hear his voice faintly, going on with Nathan about how they’re going to start repairing the barn.
    Beverlee’s voice snaps me back into Uncle Carl’s homecoming.
    “Adria, can you get Carl a glass of tea?”
    I move back toward the den and let the light from the opened windows warm my face once more.
    “Sure, Aunt Bev.”
    “Beverlee,” Uncle Carl says, motioning one hand in protest, “I’m not thirsty—I’ve got coffee.” He turns to me then. “Really, don’t worry about it.”
    “Oh hush,” I say, beaming at him. “Don’t try that shamefully independent stuff on me. Until you can walk again—and you will; watch and see—I’m here to do your bidding. Besides, if I were the one in the wheelchair, I’d fully expect you to wait on me hand and foot.” I smirk playfully at him.
    Uncle Carl sighs, surrendering, but I can tell in the softness of his face that he’s appreciative.
    Beverlee winks at me and heads upstairs.
    Harry and Daisy are sitting at the bar when I make it into the kitchen, Daisy’s curly blond hair draped over Harry’s shoulder. She raises her head from his shoulder and eyes me as I cross over to open the refrigerator. Harry is still stuffing his face with chocolate chip cookies. The one thing he does better than skate is eat.
    “Have you talked with them about Portland?” Daisy says.
    I slide the tea pitcher off the top rack, set it on the counter and then pull a clean glass from the nearby dish drainer.
    “I don’t know if I should go,” I say. I press the glass under the ice dispenser in the refrigerator door and the ice clanks noisily into the bottom. “It’s a bad time to be going anywhere, really.”
    After filling the