Revealing the Dead by Sheila Connolly

Author:Sheila Connolly [Connolly, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Mysteries & Thrillers
Goodreads: 40105264
Publisher: Beyond the Page
Published: 2018-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Monday

Despite a relatively late night, Abby woke up early and lay curled against Ned, with a quilt wrapping them both, and tried to decide what she thought about the planned meeting with a school administrator. Was she really just flailing around, out of boredom or frustration? Was this even a good idea? Her life had changed so much over the past year that she wasn’t sure she even knew herself now. Many of the changes had been for the good, but how many of them were permanent? Which organization was it that used the motto First do no harm? She didn’t want to start something and then walk away. If the whole psychic link thing didn’t work out with this or any other school, would she leave? After how long? And what would she do then?

She was startled when she felt Ned’s hand on her back. “Stop worrying,” he said softly.

“Why do you think I’m worrying?” she said defensively.

“Because you’re tense. Anyone could tell that—it doesn’t take a psychic link. Don’t be, Abby. If this first try doesn’t work out, there will be others. You’ll find your niche.”

Abby tried to relax her shoulders. “I hope so. What’s up for today?”

“Work for me, I’ll be going into the office.”

“You did promise to take some real time off,” Abby said, hating the whiny tone in her voice.

“I did, and I will, as soon as we figure out what we’re doing. If this new thing works out for you, maybe I can find some parallel research, so we’d be working together but not, if that makes any sense.”

“Well, we made a good start with those scary brain machines. But that’s definitely not something to use on children, or at least, not yet.”

“You’re right. But it gave us a clearer image of the physical layout of the brain, and where some things are happening. It’s a place to start, anyway.”

Downstairs over breakfast, Ned asked, “When do you expect to hear from the plumbers?”

“Today or tomorrow, I hope. I’d like to get started on that project before I get sucked into something more time-consuming. And I don’t think they’ll take very long. You want to go with Victorian-style tile in the back? Or something more neutral?”

“You’re asking me?” Ned’s eyebrows went up. “Okay, I’d say keep the colors light and make sure it’s easy to clean. I’ll trust you on the rest.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to get your hands dirty with the plumbing?”

“No, thanks, I’ll leave that to the experts. I know my limitations.” He stood up. “I’d better go. See you at dinner. Your turn to cook, right?”

“Uh, yes, I guess. Have a good day.”

When Ned had left, Abby spent an extra couple of minutes finishing her coffee and staring into space, watching random thoughts drift by. What should she wear to the interview that wasn’t really an interview? Nothing too upscale, because that wouldn’t look kid-friendly. Should she do some more online digging about autism? No, probably not. She didn’t want to sound like she was reciting a textbook.

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