Season of Secrets Read Online Free

couldn’t imagine.
    She reached for the knocker and then paused. In the old days, she’d run in and out of Annabel’s house as if it were her own. She shouldn’t change things now. She grasped the brass knob, turned it and let the door swing open.
    Please, help me do this. Slowly, she stepped inside.
    The spacious center hallway stood empty, the renters’ furniture gone with them. Weak winter sunshine through the stained-glass window on the landing cast oblongs of rose and green on the beige stair carpet. The graceful, winding staircase seemed to float upward.
    The space was different, but the same. Even without Annabel’s familiar furnishings, it echoed with her presence, as if at any moment she would sail through the double doors from the front parlor, silvery blond hair floating around her face, arms outstretched in welcome.
    A shudder went through Dinah, and she took an involuntary step back.
    â€œI know.”
    She turned. Marc stood in the doorway to the room that had once been his study. He’d exchanged the jacket and tie he’d worn the previous day for jeans and a casual ivory sweater. His eyes met hers gravely.
    â€œI know,” he said again. “I feel it, too. It’s as if she’s going to come through the door at any moment.”
    â€œYes.” She took a shaky breath, oddly reassured that his memories were doing the same thing to him. “I thought it would seem different to me, but it doesn’t.”
    He moved toward her. “I thought I’d already done all my grieving.” His voice roughened. “Then I found the grief was waiting here for me.”
    She nodded slowly. For the moment, the barriers between them didn’t exist. Her throat was tight, but she forced the words out.
    â€œI haven’t been in here in ten years. I couldn’t.” Her voice shook a little. “Or maybe I was just a coward.”
    Marc grasped her shoulder in a brief, comforting touch and then took his hand away quickly, as if she might object.
    â€œYou’re not a coward, Dinah. It’s a natural reaction.”
    Ironic, that she’d just done what she’d told Aunt Kate not to do. Still, the confession of her weakness seemed to have eased the tension between them.
    â€œWhat about Court? Is he having trouble with being here?”
    He shook his head. “He doesn’t seem affected at all. It’s unnerving, somehow.”
    It would be. She had a foolish urge to comfort Marc.“He was only three, after all. He slept through everything. He doesn’t have the memories we do.”
    â€œNo.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. “I’m grateful for that.”
    â€œMaybe that makes it right that you kept him away from us.” She couldn’t help the bitterness that traced the words.
    His jaw tightened. “I thought it was best for him.”
    â€œObviously.” Unexpected anger welled up in her. Both Marc and Aunt Kate had done what they thought was best, regardless of the consequences. “Are you sorry for the pain that caused us? Or do you just not care?”
    Marc looked as startled as if a piece of furniture had suddenly railed at him. His dark eyes narrowed, and she braced for an attack.
    Footsteps clattered down the stairs. They both jerked around toward the stairwell.
    â€œHey, Dad, can I go—”
    The boy stopped at the sight of her, assessing her with a frank, open gaze. She did the same. Tall for thirteen—he had his father’s height, but he hadn’t broadened into it yet. He had Marc’s dark eyes and hair, too, and for a moment she thought there was nothing of Annabel about him.
    Then he trotted down the rest of the steps and came toward her, holding out his hand. “I know who you are.” He smiled, and it was Annabel’s smile, reaching out to clutch her heart.
    â€œI know who you are, too.” Her voice had gotten husky, but she