Chapters (54)
- Cover
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Epilogue
- A Note from the Author
- Discussion Questions
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Acclaim for David Rawlings
- Also by David Rawlings
Peter held it up to his eye. “Great camera—I’ve had two Olympus myself.” He inspected the badge on the front. “The Infinity model. Can’t say I’ve heard of that one before, and I know everything about the Olympus range.” He read the inscription aloud. “‘The camera never lies’—well, that’s true.”
“I can’t wait to use it. I haven’t yet had a chance to even look at it.”
Peter flipped the camera around and checked the tiny window on the back. “Someone has. There aren’t any shots left on this film.”
Four
The scrape of forks on dinner plates echoed through a dining area that could fit ten but felt too small for the three of them. The grandfather clock counted out steady measures of silence, marking the groaning distance between each snatch of conversation.
Kelly chewed on a hunk of steak as she studied Milly, who parted the curtains of her hair with mouthfuls of food. Kelly hoped Gramps’s passing would bridge the gap between them for a moment, so they could go back to that time when Milly came running from anywhere in the house when she heard Daniel’s key in the front door. So would she.
“I thought today was a lovely farewell to Gramps.” Kelly laid the first plank in that bridge.
Milly gave the smallest nod and shared a sad smile from below her fringe. “He would have liked seeing people come to say good-bye.” She resumed pushing vegetables around her plate, and the room again filled with ticking.
Daniel brushed his mouth with a napkin. “How are you after saying good-bye to him today, Mill?”
“I said good-bye before he died.” She lowered sad eyes again.
Kelly’s heart burst with the sputtering connection, but at least it was better than no conversation at all. “Your poem was truly beautiful.” She left a gap in the conversation for Milly to fill.
Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
Instead, Daniel kept the conversational ball in the air with a goofy smile. The one she fell in love with. “I was so proud of you.”
Forks resumed their scraping. Kelly threw a glance at Daniel, who was now studying his daughter, eyes narrowed, brow knotted. Her husband’s professional hat was on.
“Perhaps we should remember happier times. Did you have fun at your birthday party, Mill?”
Milly’s fork halted, and the sad smile on her lips hardened.
Kelly frowned at Daniel. What are you talking about?
Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
Daniel shook his head at Milly’s silence and turned back to Kelly. “How was the appointment with the clinic?”
Kelly filled her glass. “Another day, another promise that Rubicon Pharma has the drugs to fix anything.”
Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
“So you’re losing faith in the healing powers of Mendacium?”