In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [64]
It must have been around midnight when he found himself in the area known as the Battery, with spacious lawns fronting the sea, dotted with huge oaks and old monuments and ancient cannons. The wind was edged with ice and he shivered under the black oilskin. A memory of his siblings flashed across his mind, huddled around the woodstove, toasting their toes along with a few chestnuts, arguing and punching, rowdy as a pack of puppies confined in the tiny cabin with its newspaper-covered walls.
In that moment, Theo longed so badly for his home and his family that his knees went weak. He sank onto the frosty grass, head bowed, lost in grief and despair. He had nothing to live for.
Frozen, he finally stirred himself, drifting away from the water, seeking shelter from the wind. He wandered north of the Battery into an area of grand homes. The big houses were silent and dark, their lucky families asleep in warmth and comfort. Envy left a bitter taste in his mouth, though he would have traded any one of those grand homes just to put back the clock and have his own little cabin and his family alive, all together again, safe in the lee of the Great Smokies.
He paused outside a pink-washed Federal house, just visible through the leafless trees. No lights showed at the windows, but he noticed that a small side gate stood ajar. He saw it led into a courtyard and quickly stepped inside. The high walls cut off the wind and he stood for a minute, catching his breath, letting his eyes adjust. He was a country boy, he was used to walking hilly terrain at night and could navigate his way around in the dark easier than most folks did in daylight.
He walked cautiously past the frozen fountain, through a low wooden door set in the brick wall, and into a neglected garden. Even though it was winter, he could see that no human hand had touched the place in a decade. Vines choked the camellias, leafless rosebushes spread thorny branches across the path, and box hedges that once bordered flower beds had now taken them over completely. Ivy swarmed over the walls of the house and across the garden, half hiding the many statues of angels and nymphs. And, at the far end of the garden, he saw another building. Dirt was so ingrained on its exterior that it was impossible to know, until he went inside, that it was completely made of glass.
When his eyes got used to the even deeper level of darkness, he made out the shelves of long-dead plants: withered orange and lemon trees, dead fig, and espaliered peach. He knew it was some kind of hothouse he was in, except there was no heat. But there was a long table fashioned from wooden planks that he recognized as a place where seedlings were potted and brought on in the winter. His daddy’s precious tomato plants had flourished in a makeshift version of this potting shed.
And on the table were a few old flour sacks. He did not hesitate. He climbed onto the table, covered himself completely with the sacks so that not even his nose peeked out, and curled up into a fetal position for warmth. He had found a home for the night.
As the temperature fell and ice crusted the glass panes of his shelter, he had the feeling that it might be his second encounter with death. Winter would kill him, even if Mitch and Michael Hains had not. Death would be his companion that night and he welcomed it.
He did not wake until the faltering rays of a wintry sun thawed his numb legs. Still beneath the sacking covers, he stretched out his full length, arms above his head, surprised to be alive. His first thought was that he was hungry again.
“Hot damn, you’re a big fellow, whoever you are.” A female voice cut through the silence like a pistol shot.
Theo flung off the sacking and stared at the old woman sitting opposite him in a green canvas lawn chair. Faded eyes sunk