Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

GRACE

The two-story brick house looked like something out of a movie. It was simple and charming, yet it may as well have been a castle in my eyes. Everything I'd ever wanted out of life stood right behind that front door. A loving family, a stable home, a life not plagued by death, angst, and fear; that's the kind of life Miles lived.

After entering through wide double doors, we kicked our shoes off in a well-used mud room and moved into the living room. My jaw dropped. My heart flipped.

Family photographs hung in thick, expensive frames along every wall. Family vacations, school portraits, baby pictures, milestones, birthdays... their entire lives were on display for all to see.

I walked past Miles and approached a bookshelf lined with more pictures. One in particular caught my eye and I picked it up, letting my fingers dance along the intricate frame as I inspected the familiar face.

"I, uh, I was a bit of an awkward child."

I gazed down at the picture of young Miles. Glasses, braces, and acne were three things I definitely hadn't associated with the guy.

"This one's my favorite," I said, playfully holding the frame to my chest.

"You're kidding me, right?" Miles took the picture from my hands and returned it to its rightful place. "Out of all the pictures in here, you pick the one where I look like Steve Urkel's albino cousin?"

I laughed as I spun around, trying to take it all in. After the pictures blurred, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what a childhood filled with love and security and a proud parent behind a lens capturing every second would feel like.

"It must have been amazing growing up in this house," I said once I stopped spinning.

"Want a tour?" Miles asked.

He extended his hand and my breath caught when I placed my palm flat against his and squeezed his fingers.

"Of course."

I didn't pay a lick of attention to anything Miles said as he led me through the house. I was too enamored by everything around me. Pictures, vases of fresh flowers, stacks of books that looked well read, and throw pillows on every piece of furniture. The place felt like more of a home than any house I'd ever lived in.

After we finished the tour, Miles led me back into what he'd called the den. Inside the dimly lit room sat a couch, two recliners, and a coffee table. A huge flat screen television was mounted to the wall between two huge bookshelves housing nothing but DVD cases.

"We've got some time to kill," he said as he picked up a remote. "What do you like to watch?"

I shook my head, a flicker of embarrassment coming to life in my gut.

"I don't really watch television."

He turned to face me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Martha usually watches soaps with the girls but I stay in my room most of the time."

Big sigh... Please don't think I'm a freak.

"I don't blame you," he said, shaking his head. No doubt he was remembering how unpleasant Martha was in the two minutes he'd been unlucky enough to be in her presence. "So, how do you fill your time?"

I lifted both shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

"I read, listen to music, and talk to dead people."