April Shadows (Shadows 1)

age, his face was smooth, his eyes bright and friendly,

like the eyes of someone much younger and more

innocent trapped in an older body.

"What's the trouble?" he asked. He wore only a

flannel shirt open at the collar. The sleeves were

frayed. His jeans were mud-stained and worn through

at the knees. He wore no watch, just a silver chain

with what looked like a silver heart.

"It's my uncle. Something terrible has happened

to him," I said.

He looked up at the motor home. "Like what?" "I don't know," I said, now unable to hold back

my tears.

He looked at the motor home again as if it were

somehow forbidden territory. Then he dropped the

tools, scratched the top of his head, and slowly approached the motor home door. Just as he did, the front door of the house opened, and an elderly lady in a faded blue housecoat stepped out. Her gray hair was whiter than his but brushed and combed neatly into a bun. She had a dark brown walking stick with a pearl handle. Her thick-lensed glasses slipped down over

the bridge of her nose as she peered out at me. "What's gain' on. Trevor?" she called, and took

a few more steps forward. She was wearing what

looked like a pair of fluffy white slippers.

"This girl says she's in trouble. Mrs.

Westington."

"What sort of trouble?"

"She says her uncle is in a bad way inside here.

I was just going to look."

"Well, we don't need no more trouble here." she

muttered loudly enough for me to hear.

"Yes, ma'am. I know that." Trevor said, glanced

at me. And then entered the motor home.

I stood outside. The elderly lady remained firrn,

frozen, leaning on her cane and staring hard at me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm lost."

"Yeah." she said, nodding. "No one comes up