The Half That You See by Rebecca Rowland (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

there ain’t nothing like a plate of cookies and a warm drink to set you right.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, I’ve been here too many years to count. So long I can’t remember! I mostly keep to myself. I like the quiet.”

Jeff nodded. “I understand. Most days I want to just…disappear, you know? Just be away from other people for a while. To think. To sort stuff out.”

“Do you want to stay the night? You don’t want to head back down the mountain in the storm. I’ve got a guest room, all done up.”

Jeff yawned. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to impose.”

She smiled and cleared away his mug and plate. “I’m sure.”

Jeff leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Though he tried to relax, he couldn’t stop the flood of images that washed over him. A blood-covered Zack in the passenger’s seat. Zack being loaded into the ambulance. The bloodstains that never washed out of his car. A constant reminder. A stain on his consciousness.

The yellow warbler chirped ten o’clock.

Local Boy Killed in Car Accident

By: Chronicle Staff

Hillside resident Zachary Grant was killed Thursday evening in what officers are calling a tragic accident. Grant was on his way home with his father, Jeffrey, who allegedly failed to observe a stop sign, causing another vehicle to strike the passenger side of the car. Grant was pronounced dead on the scene. The family will hold a memorial at Richard’s Funeral Home, followed by a private graveside service.

He wasn’t sure if it had been weeks or months, but eventually, Jeff made his way back to the little cabin. He let himself in again.

“Hello? Are you home?”

He heard the familiar clatter of the kitchen and ducked inside.

She flashed her gleaming smile at him. “Oh, you’re just in time! I made stollen and chamomile tea.”

He walked into the den and stopped in front of the bird clock. It was almost eastern bluebird o’clock. Large oak bookshelves extended ceiling to floor. He hadn’t noticed them last time, but he'd been exhausted. On the shelves were books that he’d loved as a boy: Frankenstein, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Dracula. He took Alice off the shelf and opened it, delighted to find John Tenniel’s original illustrations inside. He settled into the chair by the fire.

The woman came out of the kitchen in a sequined red dress, with a small dusting of flour on her patent leather shoes. She placed a cup and saucer on the table, then poured him some tea from the pot. The stollen, still warm from the oven, steamed on the plate.

He inhaled, savoring the spiced fragrance of the bread. “You look lovely. Do you have plans this evening?”

She offered a sly smile. “I suspected I’d see you again. You got a taste for my cooking. Just like your momma did.”

He tried to focus on her face again, but it blurred at the edges, like static on a television screen. “You’re going to spoil me.”

She glanced at the open book on his lap. “Find something you like?”

He nodded and held up the book. “I had this one when I was a kid. It wasn’t half as nice, though. Have you seen the illustrations? Zack would’ve loved it. He liked books, you know.”

She sat on the couch beside his chair. She nodded and sipped her tea. “Did you come back to talk about Zack?”

Jeff shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Zack. In this place, he shouldn't have to. “No. Well, yes. I…” he sighed. “Susan left me.”

“You poor child. Do you want to talk about it?”

He took a bite from his stollen and stared at the fire. The cake was spiced and lightly sweet. Perfect, really. He couldn’t look in her direction; if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the tears that threatened. “I couldn’t…after Zack, I mean…I wasn’t me. I’m still not me. She needed to move on. To clean out his room, to donate his things to charity. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go. It felt like…a betrayal. Like I was trying to forget him.” There were other reasons too, but he didn’t want to think about them. Not here.

She leaned closer. Her perfume smelled like vanilla and stargazer lilies. She placed a heavy hand on top of his. Her touch sent goosebumps up his arm; her hand was freezing. “People grieve in all kinds of ways. No two people are the same.”

“I just needed a break. To get away. Losing Zack was hard enough. But now, with Susan gone too, I don’t know what to do with myself.” The truth was, the images of Zack were no longer mere flashes. They haunted him constantly, always lingering in the back of his mind. He felt Zack's presence in every room, watching and judging.  He could feel the subterranean unease deep within his belly creep up the back of his throat. He swallowed it down with another sip of tea.

Only here was he safe. Only here his demons couldn't find him.

“You should stay here. You can read whatever you like. I’ve got some snowshoes and a sled. And puzzles! Do you still like puzzles? You can go ice fishing out on the lake tomorrow if you want.”

Jeff took a sip from his cup, but pulled it away quickly when he felt a sting. He touched his lip, pulling his fingers away to find blood. Looking down, he noticed a tiny chip on the rim of the cup, and a crimson smudge. He sat the mug back down and checked the time.

Ten after eastern bluebird, but the clock had not chirped.

Dear Jeffrey,

I imagine that you’re not surprised to find I’ve left. I’m sorry. I feel the constant weight of Zack’s absence, and while I try not to blame you, I sometimes wonder if things might have been different if I’d been the one to drive him home that night. Were