Read The Marriage Pact (Hqn) for Free Online

sigh, the rain beating down hard on the roof over her head, maybe “another time” has finally come. However much she sympathized with Earl, and that was a great deal, since she’d grown up knowing him and Eula, somebody had to step up and do something about the situation. Muggles couldn’t speak for herself, after all. So Hadleigh was stuck.
    Decision made, Hadleigh took her hooded jacket from the row of pegs on the back porch—she had to rummage for it, since Gram’s coats were still hanging there, along with a tattered denim jacket that had belonged to her dad and then to Will.
    Her throat thickened, and she touched one of the sleeves, worn soft at the elbows and frayed at the cuffs. For a moment, she allowed herself to remember both men, and then, because she had a clearer picture of Will, she recalled the sound of his laugh, the way he always slammed the screen door coming in or going out, accompanied by Gram’s good-natured fussing.
    Like many kid sisters, Hadleigh had idolized her big brother. She’d accepted his loss, she supposed, but she still wasn’t reconciled to the unfairness of it. He’d been so young when he was killed, full of promise and energy and idealism, and he’d never gotten the chance to chase his own dreams.
    For several years, the scent of Will’s aftershave had clung to the fabric of that jacket, along with a tinge of woodsmoke, but now the garment had a dank, rainy-day smell, faintly musty, like an old sleeping bag somebody had rolled up, put away in an attic or a basement and forgotten.
    Get a grip, Hadleigh told herself when sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Think about right now, because that’s what matters.
    Resolutely, she raised the hood of her jacket, tugged the drawstrings tight around her face and marched out into the rain.
    Hands jammed into her pockets, head lowered slightly against the continuing downpour, Hadleigh followed the concrete walkway that ran alongside the house, past the flower beds and the familiar windows, silently going over the things she might say to Earl when he opened his door—and discarding each one in turn.
    Everything sounded so...patronizing. How could she tell this good man that he was too old and too sick to take proper care of his own dog? Earl Rollins had worked hard all his life, been active in his church and in the rest of the community, and he’d already lost not only his professional identity and the ordinary freedoms younger people took for granted, such as a driver’s license. He’d lost Eula, his soul mate, too.
    Still, there was Muggles, a living, breathing creature who needed food, shelter and love.
    Torn between responsibility and sentiment, Hadleigh forged on, reached her front yard and came to a sudden, startled stop in the soggy grass.
    An ambulance was just pulling into the Rollinses’ driveway, lights flashing.
    Hadleigh peered both ways and then splashed across the street, her heart wedging itself in her throat.
    Another neighbor, Mrs. Culpepper, stood in Earl’s doorway, gesturing anxiously for the paramedics to hurry.
    They parked the ambulance, circled to the back of the vehicle and opened the doors to pull out a collapsible gurney.
    “Quickly,” Mrs. Culpepper pleaded.
    Hadleigh must have read the woman’s lips, because the pounding rain, crackling like fire on roofs and sidewalks and asphalt, made it impossible to hear.
    The EMTs moved past Mrs. Culpepper swiftly, disappearing inside the house.
    Hadleigh hurried over to the porch. She didn’t want to get in the way, but she needed to know what was happening.
    Mrs. Culpepper, after directing the paramedics to the kitchen in a shrill and tremulous voice, turned to meet Hadleigh’s gaze.
    “This is terrible,” the older woman moaned.
    Hadleigh felt an unbecoming—her grandmother’s word, unbecoming —rush of impatience, which she stifled quickly. Mrs. Culpepper, though long retired, had been her first-grade teacher and, like Earl and Eula, she was as much a