Excerpt

• [6]
• [7]
• [8]

She
was a fine lady with sad soft eyes and fancy things. But she did
not so much as take off her shoes when she sat down on the edge of
the bed. I had the knife, but I did not know how I would ever use
it. The lady laid on her side, curled up her legs and put her hands
together under her head.

I found a picture on top of the dresser of the lady with her
husband and what looked to be their boy, happy as you please. The
boy grinned with sleepy eyes and heavy lashes. "Can you bring me
that picture?" the lady asked.

I went over and put the frame in her hands. For a second she closed
her eyes and then let out a sigh. "I'm not waking up," she said.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"I'm Jeanette," the lady told me "That's my husband Arthur, and
that's Lowell. He's your age. I thought I could never love a person
more than Arthur," the lady went on. "Then I had our son, and I
held him for the first time and I knew." Her voice was coming out
fast from nowhere, and her words fell over each other one on top of
the other, like she'd been thinking about saying this her whole
life long. "There isn't any love like that. No matter what he does,
or who he becomes, I will always love him." She took a breath and
put her face in her hands. "Save me," she said.

Outside a pine tree squeaked in the wind with a little old voice,
crying tears against the window.

Excerpted from OUTSIDE VALENTINE © Copyright 2004 by Liza
Ward. Reprinted with permission by Henry Holt and Company, an
imprint of PUB2. All rights reserved.

• [6]
• [7]
• [8]