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Back A Flicker of Light Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Katie Powner
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

Mitch didn’t want to upset her. Maybe he could ask Ken to let them all sleep on it for a couple days before doing anything. What harm could a few more days do after so many years?

He stared at his one bare foot and thought about how quickly his mother’s mental faculties could change. How quickly she could deteriorate. If he wanted the truth, maybe a couple of days did matter.

“We’ll head over soon, then.”

His father grunted. “Well, all right. See you in a few.”

“Sure. See you.”

He hung up and stared at his phone. He’d never missed Caroline more.

FORTY-THREE

ch-fig

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. Goose bumps prickle on my arms, but the thought of going inside to find a coat is overwhelming. I just want to sit here watching the clouds cast moving shadows on the mountain.

“You’re cold.”

Rand’s voice startles me. I forgot he was here.

I turn my head slowly to look at him in the rocking chair next to mine. “I’m okay.”

He pushes out of the chair with a groan and takes a shuffling step toward the house.

“No, don’t.” My hand feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds as I raise it in protest. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll just grab a blanket.”

I do not answer. A lump forms in my throat. I don’t deserve that man. I never did.

I turn my face back to the mountain and blink, clearing my vision. Won’t the light be appearing soon? I’ve lost all sense of time. I sit up a little straighter, suddenly feeling it’s very important that I see the light.

Rand returns and tucks a blanket over my lap. It feels nice.

He peers into my face. “What’s wrong?”

“The light.” I shift to look past him, around him. “I can’t see it.”

He tugs his rocking chair a little closer and sinks into it. “It’s early yet.”

“But I can’t see it anymore, Rand.” I shove my hand in my pocket and grab the penny tightly in my palm. “I need to see it.”

“You just gotta wait is all.” He rubs my knee. “Just a little longer.”

Okay. Wait. My grip on the penny loosens, and I examine his hand. It’s so wrinkled and worn. So familiar and comforting. Of all the memories I stand to lose, the feel of his hand will be one of the most precious.

Gravel crunches and I stiffen. “Someone’s here.”

“I told you Mitch was coming out, remember?” Rand stands again. “With the kids?”

Oh. Right. His truck appears over the little hill along the drive. “And they’re bringing someone?”