The Pearls of the Stone Man by Edward Mooney Jr

Author:Edward Mooney, Jr.
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2014-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

“It’s late, Joey. Let’s get to bed,” Anne whispered to her husband, lying on the opposite side of the bed. It was cool that evening. The window was open a bit, allowing for the cool breeze to refresh. Joseph’s light was the last one on.

“I’m having a tough time settling down.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Paul. It hurts, Anne. It really hurts.”

Anne stroked her husband’s back gently. “You did so well this time, sweetheart. You really reached out to him.”

“All the wasted years, Annie. He’s my hope, my life. And I wasted so many years fighting with him because I’m a stubborn, selfish man. I was always too busy or too bothered by some ridiculous thing he did.”

“Shhh…just be grateful that you will waste no more years.”

“Remember those parents in the store, with the teenagers?”

“Shhh…yes, I remember…”

“It hurts that they’re doing the same thing…it repeats, generation after generation.” Joseph turned to look at Anne. She was still wearing the pearls in bed. “Maybe I’m just like them.”

“Maybe we all are in some way or another,” Anne said simply.

“The pearls Anne, you forgot to take them off.”

“I don’t want to take them off anymore.”

“They look good on you.” Joseph kissed her on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, Annie.” He paused before he turned out the light. Something about the cross on the wall caught his eye. It was the wind, gently moving it.

God…watch over my family… Joseph prayed.

He turned out the light but lay in the dark watching the curtain sway with the breeze. The minutes turned into long hours as he lay there listening to the clock, watching the light and the breeze play on the cross on the wall. Listening to Anne’s breathing. Despite a few minutes where he had drifted into sleep, he had lain awake caught in a whirlwind of emotions and memories.

Joseph slid out from under the sheets and quietly tiptoed toward the bathroom. When he finished he retraced his steps and slid under the covers, being careful not to wake Anne up. He noticed the sheet had been pulled toward his side. Probably did it when he left, he thought. Joseph slowly reached across and pulled the sheet up to Anne’s shoulder. The pearls shone in the dark. She looked so beautiful wearing them. He brushed against her cheek. She was cold. Maybe, he thought, he should shut the window for her.

He had just closed the window when it hit him. She was cold. Joseph spun around, clicking the switch of the antique lamp. “Annie?” he said loudly enough for her to hear—but quietly enough so that he would not startle her.

She did not startle.

This time he shouted. “Annie! Annie!”

He ran to her side of the bed and reached a frail hand toward her neck.

“Annie?” It was half statement, half question. An eerie silence filled the room.

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