The Boy on the Porch by Dee Holmes

Author:Dee Holmes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

A few minutes later, they’d crossed the street, stepping onto a badly cracked sidewalk and walking toward a craggy-faced apartment house with grafitti splatters on the worn shingles and a first-floor broken window. When Linc turned to climb the steps, Annie balked.

“What are we doing here?”

“Sorry, forgot to mention it in all the my-past-life and fantasy and cycle talk. Remember I told you about kids that leave Noah House and how they have to be able to make it on their own? One of the kids, Tim Jofer, lives here with his girlfriend. I want to check on him, see how he’s doing.”

But instead of a nod and a smile, she backed away. “I don’t think I should go with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know them, and well, I’d feel funny.”

“I’d feel funny leaving you out here.”

She tried to back even farther away, and he stopped her. “Whoa. This isn’t a choice. Annie?” And he saw a real terror in her eyes.

“I can’t, Linc. I can’t.”

She’d begun to shake, and because he didn’t know what else to do, he gathered her into his arms. She shuddered against him like a frightened animal. He didn’t ask questions, nor did he release her. She burrowed in as though he were a bulwark and she had no intention of letting it go. So there they stood with a few neighbors gawking and a couple of kids stopping, dripping from the hydrant, giggling and then running off to get wet again. Still Linc held her, waiting for her shivers to stop.

Finally, she eased her way back. “You must think I’m some nutcase.”

“The range and span of change in the past hour does make me a tad curious. Come on,” he said taking her hand and moving away from the building.

“You changed your mind?”

Ignoring her question, he said, “Let’s get a frozen lemonade.”

They walked to a small area three doors down where a vendor’s lemonade stand tried desperately to stay cool in the shade of an old oak tree. Linc bought two paper cones, grabbed some napkins, and led her to the other side of the tree. A bench would have been nice, but this was Godfrey Street, where if it wasn’t chained to a pole, it disappeared faster than a druggie’s last high.

They both ate the frozen ice, and then Linc said, “Okay, why the panic?” It wasn’t a question as much as an observation.

“I don’t like old apartment buildings.”

“That’s not the reason.”

She glanced around as if hoping a new rationalization might fly by and she could grab onto it. “And how do you know?”

“Because no one gets the panic in their eyes that I just saw in yours over walking into a building. What’s the connection? You know someone who lives here?”

“Here?” She looked appalled. “I’ve never even been on Godfrey Street.”

“Now that I believe,” he muttered.

“I’m supposed to apologize because I don’t hang out in crummy neighborhoods?”

“Did I say that?”

“You implied it.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did. Guess I’m a bit sensitive about streets that used to be families and good neighbors who looked out for one another.

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