Read Gravelight for Free Online Page A

reactions was sudden and immediate, and Wycherly shuddered—at his father’s easy contempt and his mother’s crippling pity. No. If he did this thing, he would do it here, alone, telling no one. There would be no audience for his attempt—and failure.

    Here—or nowhere. This time—or never.
    It was odd the way the battle lines were suddenly so clear, as if this were actually something important that he and he alone could do. As if the condition of his liver actually mattered.
    Which it didn’t—not even to him.
    But he’d do this thing anyway.
    How? He turned his mind to practical matters, away from the disturbing world of ideals. Money was the first thing he’d need. Although Wycherly doubted either his AmEx or Visa would be of any use to him here, the thousand in cash he was carrying would probably go a long way toward buying him a place to hide.
    To hide . He’d named the truth to himself without realizing it. That was what he’d been looking for on the road; that was what he wanted here. A place to hide.
    Suddenly the sleepless hours he’d spent dragged at him, and the need for sleep pulled at his body with its promise of oblivion. The wet July heat was like a hand pushing him down, and he ached persistently in his legs, his neck, his back … . Wycherly got carefully to his feet. Feeling more than a little light-headed, he walked with extra care back into the general store.
    Luned Starking was back, leaning against the old-fashioned soda cooler with a Coke in one hand and a glossy magazine in the other. This time Wycherly got a better look at her. Evan’s sister was a washed-out blonde girl who looked ten and was probably fourteen and had the big-eyed elfin look of long privation. Her attention was riveted on the page, her lips moving slightly as she read.
    Evan glanced up, surprised, when Wycherly entered. “You ready for some more beer, mister?”
    â€œI need someplace to stay,” Wycherly said. “Is there someplace around here that I could rent—someplace quiet?” As if his screams wouldn’t be noise enough, once he started drying out. If he started drying out. The certainty of purpose he’d felt only moments before was fading.
    The request seemed to take both Evan and Luned by
surprise. They stared at Wycherly, mouths slightly open.
    â€œI—I’m sure old Bart’ll have your car running again just as soon as Caleb hauls it back here,” Evan said.
    Wycherly’s emotional radar, fine-tuned by years of Musgrave disasters, picked up the sense of worry, almost of desperation, in Evan’s voice. As if he were afraid of Wycherly? Why?
    â€œI don’t think anybody can get that car working again, and actually, I don’t care. I just need a place to stay. Surely somebody has a place here they can rent?” Wycherly said again.
    â€œYou want to stay here?” Evan ran his hand through his sandy, light brown hair, now looking baffled as much as wary. “Mister, nobody stays in Morton’s Fork if they’ve got any way of getting out, except—” He broke off suddenly. “Nobody.”
    At the moment Wycherly was too tired to pursue the other exception to the rule. “But there is someplace?” he demanded.
    â€œThere’s this old cabin up on the mountain. It doesn’t exactly belong to anybody … . There isn’t any electricity, and you’d have to pump all your own water. And could be some folks say there’s ha’ants around the place, on account of a woman died there … .”
    If Evan was trying to make the place sound unattractive, he wasn’t doing a very good job. Wycherly didn’t believe in ghosts, and that kind of isolation sounded as if it were made to order for what he had in mind.
    â€œI just want someplace with a roof and a bed and I’ll pay for it,” Wycherly snarled. “Which part of the preceding sentence don’t