Read Divine Solace: 8 for Free Online Page B

her combination kitchen and living room
had only a bookshelf and a French-door view of the comings and goings of the
neighborhood for visual entertainment. Seeing it through the eyes of a relative
stranger, a man, she worried he might be glad he’d only be here a weekend.
    But it was her place, her sanctuary, bought under good
financing terms with her own money. It wasn’t a rusted trailer with garbage in
the backyard and a scrawny mother cat having litter after litter of kittens
under the stoop until disease took her. The kittens always disappeared
eventually. As a child, she’d pretended they found good homes, rather than
getting sick, hit by cars or eaten up by the nearby marsh alligators.
    Her mother said getting the mama cat fixed was too much
money and animals were meant to fend for themselves anyway. She’d felt much the
same way about children. It gave Gen a quick flash of herself at seven,
standing on a stepstool to fix oatmeal for herself at the old stove, reading
the package to figure out how to do it.
    “What a great place,” Noah said. The sincerity caught her
off guard, pulled her out of such memories. He’d brought in a duffle and placed
it by the door so he could wander down the narrow hallway to look at the
collages she’d placed on the walls. They were enhanced by the eggshell-colored
paint, and she’d found good frames at yard sales. When she snapped on a light
for him, the small track lights she’d placed over each picture provided enough
illumination to navigate the hall, but turned the focus to the walls rather
than the beige carpet she hadn’t yet replaced with hardwood, as she intended to
do one of these days. The kitchen was her first order of business.
    “This is awesome,” he said. The collage he was studying was
a garden of flowers, created with different scraps of paper, some solid colors,
some patterns. Tiny knots of newsprint made up the background, as if the
flowers were peering up from the colorless dark earth. She wondered if the
earth ever resented being the womb, never the creation. Probably not. Even if
the earth nursed such a petty thought, a look at what it had created would
dispel it. At least that was the way it should be.
    “I made it after I bought the house.” Her own personal
celebration.
    “You made this? All of these?” At her nod, he gripped her
hand as if he’d made a delightful discovery. It made her blush. Fortunately, he
turned his attention back to the wall before she could embarrass herself
further. The next one showed the silhouette of a sitting cat, the body formed
by various images of a cat playing, sleeping. She’d interspersed those images
with simple colors, making her into a calico.
    “Do you have a cat?”
    “Not yet. One day.”
    He glanced at her. “A life still evolving. I like that.”
    “You’re a strange one,” she responded, but she smiled. He
made her smile. She liked that.
    He picked up his duffle bag. “Where am I at?”
    She pointed to the guest bedroom. “It’s a full-size.” She
hoped his feet wouldn’t hang off the end. “There’s a small TV in there. I have
basic cable.”
    He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Lyda doesn’t let me do TV.
It makes my head hurt. Do you want to get started on anything tonight on the
kitchen floor, or should I just fix you dinner?”
    She blinked at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to—”
    “I’m here for you, Gen,” he said seriously. “Let me make you
dinner.”
    While she was searching for something to say, he disappeared
into the guestroom, returning without the bag. “No matter what, we need dinner
first. Any particular requests?”
    “I have some leftover lasagna. There’s enough for two, and
some salad.” She hoped there was enough for two, but he was a man. They could
always order a pizza.
    “Sounds good. Why don’t you do whatever your evening routine
is, and I’ll get dinner ready? If you do collaging after dinner, I can hang out
with a book and watch, if you’re