Free Paradox - Progeny Of Innocence (bk2) (Paradox series) by Patti Roberts

confounded look on his face as she trudged up the beach toward the car park, Champsie almost skipping joyfully beside her. "Careful, Josh," she said. "I’ve heard that if the wind changes, your face will stay like that."
    One of Joshua’s friends called out, jolting him out of his statue-like stance. "Hurry up, Josh, it’s about to piss down."
     
    "Thanks Wade," Grace said sliding out of the front seat of Wade’s four-wheel drive. Wade nodded in response.
    She pulled her backpack over her shoulder and closed the door. "I’ll call you in about an hour, if that’s okay?"
    "Take as long as you like, Grace. I don’t have any other plans."
    Grace stepped slowly away from the car and watched Wade drive away. She turned and took the familiar path that she always took from the car park. Above, an alliance of dark clouds began to gather.
    An old groundskeeper with a stained canvas fishing cap on his head was raking leaves into a neat pile; he paused for a moment when he saw her. "Grace," he said, nodding as she passed him.
    She gave the old man a quick smile and a nod in return before lowering her head and continuing on her way. Seconds later, a chilly breeze picked up and swirled the leaves high in the air, twirling them all around her.
    She turned her head back to look at the old man regretfully. "Sorry," she murmured as the leaves began to drift gracefully toward the earth, settling all around her.
    The old man pulled the cap off his head and wiped it across his sweaty brow. "Not to worry, Grace, it’s only a few leaves, absolutely nothing to worry about, my girl." He looked up at the coagulating clouds as they drifted ghostlike across the warm glow of the sun, painting the sky an ominous grey color. "But if you wouldn’t mind holding off the rain for just a little longer, until I have time to get these leaves raked up again, that would be greatly appreciated," he said, smiling at her. He pulled his old cap back onto his slightly balding head. "You take care now, you hear." He began raking the leaves into another neat pile.
    Grace nodded and offered him a sad smile. The poor old thing, she thought. What on earth had given him the ridiculous notion that she was capable of holding off the rain? She had just felt sorry that he would have to rake up the scattered leaves again. Not apologetic for anything that she had done to cause it. For five years, she had watched this old man tend lovingly to the grounds. But not once could she remember ever having a conversation with him, or telling him her name. She let the thoughts go. She had far more important things on her mind today.
    Grace knew that it would take her less than two minutes to reach her destination. She could have been blindfolded on a moonless night, and still she would not have lost her way. She had walked this path so many times in the past few years alone, and at other times with her mother. The manicured lawn felt like a plush carpet beneath her feet as she walked. She breathed in and smelt the earthy smell of freshly cut lawn. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a lawnmower as it coughed, then spluttered into a gradual silence. The ear-piercing squawk of a bird overhead had her looking skyward. Although he was camouflaged in the rolling grey clouds, it still only took her a moment to spot him. She could feel his beady, black eyes boring into her in a strange, yet comforting, way. After five years, she had grown completely accustomed to his being there, drifting above her from his vantage point, and watching over her protectively.
    For a moment, she just stood there and stared at the white marble headstone. Then she dropped her shoulder a little to let her backpack fall to the ground by her feet. She sat down on the grass, picked up a bunch of roses and white lilies, and placed them in her lap. She leaned back and pressed her shoulder up against the icy stone surface. Her finger traced the grooves of the engraved letters.
     
    Brian Connors.
    Beloved