Charlaine Harris - [Aurora Teagarden 07] by Last Scene Alive (V1.0)

Author:Last Scene Alive (V1.0)
Language: eng
Format: epub

Next morning was a good Sunday for church. I attend on most Sundays, but sometimes I’m more enthusiastic than others. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, what process had been set in motion this past week, but I was relieved to feel better. I didn’t realize how long a dark cloud had hung around me until it began to lift. I slicked my hair back and put it up as smoothly as I manage, and I wore a fall suit of a russet color. I put on my gold-rimmed glasses, and I had suede pumps and a purse to match.

Amber earrings, I decided, and a dab of perfume.

“You look good,” I told my mirror earnestly. “Pretty darn good.”

I got to St. Stephen’s about nine-fifteen. We had an early service, since Aubrey also preached at another church about thirty miles away at eleven o’clock. I slipped into the pew I usually used, noticed my mother and John hadn’t gotten there yet, and slid to my knees to pray. Our church is small and beautiful, and just breathing the air of it makes me feel better. The organist began her playing before I’d finished, and I eased back into the pew and listened with my eyes closed. I don’t have much of an ear for music, but I thought I was listening to Handel. The pew creaked as someone sat by me, and I opened my eyes after listening a little longer. Robin was on his knees next to me, wearing a perfectly proper suit and tie. He sat back by me, and began the business of book-marking his hymnal and turning to the proper place in the Book of Common Prayer. When he was arranged to his satisfaction, one of his long, slender hands reached over and patted mine. I turned my hand palm up so he could clasp it, and he gave my fingers a squeeze. His untidy hair was freshly washed and floating around his head in a coppery nimbus, and I averted my face so he couldn’t see me smile.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Robin released my hand with another pat, and the processional began. We stood to observe it, and bowed at the passage of the cross. I was reminded all over again of how much taller he was than I. As Aubrey, the lector, and the two acolytes disposed themselves at the front of the church, I saw Will Weir, the cameraman, scuttle into the back pew on the other side. He was wearing a sports jacket, a white shirt, and jeans; not standard churchgoing garb in Lawrenceton, but he was a visitor, after all. My mother and her husband had slipped in late, as well.

The sun poured in the windows of the church and I watched dust motes dance in the beams. The ritual unfolded exactly as it ought, and as the congregation knelt and stood in unison, I felt a deep calm wash over me.

Will scuttled out of the church as fast as he’d scuttled in, so he apparently didn’t want to meet and greet.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.