The Memory House. Linda Goodnight
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newness out of sync with the rest of the man, obliterated the hairy creature.
Julia gave an embarrassed laugh. “I hate spiders. A neighbor boy used to torment me with them.” She didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to add that last bit.
“Probably plenty of them in here.”
“A joyous thought,” she said wryly. “And another reason I have avoided the carriage house.”
The corners of his mouth quivered like the stirring of a single leaf by a breath of air. His eyes lit and, every bit as quickly, dimmed.
Had he smiled once today? Did he ever? What weight could a man possibly carry that he rarely smiled? Even she had found her smile again.
“Mind if I look around?”
“Go ahead. That’s why we came, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay right here.”
“Spiderwebs everywhere.” As if to prove the point, he waved his hand into a thick web strung between a stack of boxes and the wall and wiped the cottony mess down the sides of his jeans.
“Exactly.” She remained beside a stack of boxes piled on top of a bureau in need of repair. The bulky piece of mahogany had been here when she’d first arrived and, like so many other things, had simply been too much to deal with at the time.
The wooden floor creaked beneath Eli’s weight as he approached the windows. Thick, dusty cobwebs crisscrossed panes so dirty the sun barely penetrated the glass with a hazy, translucent light.
“Can they be saved?” she asked.
“The spiderwebs? Or the windows?”
A joke. The man had made a joke. Julia smiled. “Saving the planet does not include spiders.”
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