Leaves Read Free

to die, that no medical or spiritual miracles were coming, he had tried to come to terms with it. He even tried to convince himself that her dying was a preferable alternative to her suffering, and while at least that much was true, he was still completely unprepared when the inevitable happened. Knowing she was gone left an un-fillable chasm. That in itself was maybe the biggest sucker punch of the entire experience.
    He’d started sparring with Corrina and her stepson Ryan during his mother’s final weeks, and neither relationship had improved since, something he still found baffling. Ryan was fixing for a fight the day the kid went postal on him; of that much Tyler was certain. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Of all people in the family, why him? And how was it possible that Corrina didn’t see it for what it was?
    It was not long after that when he realized he’d become an appendage in Patrice’s life. It was one of those four-in-the-morning things where several images tumbled into his head at the same time – the way she no longer looked up when he entered the room, the way her eyes crinkled when he came to her with his troubles, the way her heart seemed to sag when she came home at night. When he got up the nerve to discuss it with her a week or so later, hoping she would convince him that he was imagining things, she thanked him for having the courage to say what she had wanted to say for some time. He had no option but to move out before what remained of their romance turned poisonous.
    Yes, it had been a world-class awful year. However, fall had always been his favorite season. Maybe his fortunes would change color along with the leaves. Certainly if this latest set of photographs was any indication, things were about to improve. Though it was only nine thirty in the morning, Tyler had been at his computer for three hours already, waking up feeling much more motivated than he felt when he went to bed – even after that weird thing with the clock radio. Now, though, it was definitely time to get outside. He decided to take a walk to Henry’s, taking his three best shots along with him.
    Renting a place in town had some definite advantages. The cottage he’d shared with Patrice was beautiful, but it required jumping in a car to get anywhere, which meant sitting there freezing while the vehicle heated in the winter, and hassling with parking any other time of year. As a result, Tyler tended to go out less often than he liked, deciding it wasn’t worth the bother. Now that he was living close to he middle of town, though, he walked all the time. He passed the house that Uriah Hayden built in 1687 – a fact noted on one of the white plaques so many of the houses in town displayed – which was followed by the one that Ezekiel Hamilton built two years later. There were plaques noting other Haydens and Hamiltons, as well as Simpsons and Partridges and others all over the town of Oldham, their homes having been converted into restaurants and coffee shops and boutiques. Some were even still homes. His own house was built by Nathaniel Essex, the first mayor of Oldham, in 1682.
    Bob Ritchie was the owner of Henry’s (so named for Josiah Henry, who built the place in 1701), the local art gallery on the far end of town. Bob had been selling Tyler’s work since Tyler was twenty-one, claiming he was Tyler’s “first patron.” Certainly Henry’s was the source of Tyler’s biggest sales over the years and he always went there first when he had something exciting to show. There were already a handful of people browsing the shop at this time of morning, a sign that Bob’s business was in good shape.
    â€œHey, how’s it going?” Bob said, breaking away from a customer to pat Tyler on the shoulder. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be right with you. I just made coffee in the back if you want some.”
    â€œThanks.