Free Moonshadows by Mary Ann Artrip Page A

in the doorway.
    “Goodbye,” she called. “And remember that you promised to keep in touch.”
    She waved to the group then turned and followed Trent, who seemed to have a new spring in his step. They went down the steps and across the lawn that was even now becoming overgrown and neglected.

 
     
     
     
SIX
     
    A jagged curtain of water whooshed from beneath the wheels of a UPS truck and splattered a mess across Janet’s windshield when she merged with Middlebrook traffic. It was all so familiar, yet now it seemed disconnected to her life. After being away for a week, she ticked off in her mind the contents of her refrigerator: stale bread, outdated milk, withered fruit. Speeding up to get into the turn lane, she whipped into Kroger’s and found an empty spot near the door. Janet had never been one to shop by the squeeze, sniff, or thump method, so she was in and out in less than twenty minutes.
    The rain had not slackened when she pulled into her parking slot at Middlebrook Arms. She set the brake, looked through the fogged windshield, and thought how she hated to venture from the warm car into the icy downpour.
    Middlebrook Arms wasn’t the ritziest place to live but it was a better part of town, home to older and more established residences. But the years were telling and the condos were beginning to show signs of ageing. The units followed along the lines of a horseshoe: single-level buildings on either side were filled mostly with singles, like herself, or young couples with no children. The long multi-level building spanning the back catered to the retired and tenants with special needs. It had a handicap ramp leading up to the common front porch, and inside was an elevator to reach the second level. Janet once had a paraplegic friend who lived there, but the friend had died and she hadn’t been back inside the building since.
    A courtyard graced the center of the complex and was tended by meticulous landscaping. Wood-slatted benches and flower boxes circled a fountain that was presently covered with a canvas sheet, but would come alive with columns of water during the summer months. Clumps of white birch completed the arrangement. All the units were gray brick, with a slightly darker shade of wood trim. The doors and windows, overlaid with decorative black wrought-iron barriers, offered a measure of security without making the whole thing look like a fortress.
    The parking area was the opening of the horseshoe. Black filigreed streetlamps that followed the curve of the sidewalk were already glowing.
    After tugging on the hood of her jacket and tightening the cords, Janet looped the tote strap across her body. She gathered the sack of groceries, sandwiched the photo album against her chest, took a deep breath and stepped from the car into the violent weather. A slashing wind drove the rain into her eyes and she ducked her head to keep from being blinded. She barreled up the sidewalk with no thought of being careful.
    “Oomph.”
    The breath was nearly knocked out of her as she smacked into a solid wall of hurrying humanity. The grocery bag exploded from the compression of the two bodies and little Cheerios missiles shot in all directions. The bag hit the soggy ground and oranges bounced on the wet grass and rolled away. A geyser of milk erupted from the red carton and spewed white foam on her rain-soaked jeans.
    Janet almost laughed as she swiped water from her face and looked at the stranger in the raincoat. Without speaking, he knelt and began to retrieve the remnants of her purchase. A khaki rain hat, pulled low over his brow, hid his face. In silence, he handed up the oranges one at a time and Janet tucked them into the little vee-shaped shelf made by her body and the album.
    “I’m sorry.” He spoke without looking up. “It was all my fault. I guess I thought nobody else would be out in this miserable weather.”
    “Don’t apologize,” she said. “It was my fault too. I should’ve been more