The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,183

land and the changes at the mill. The cadences of my birthplace ran through his voice. He stretched out his legs beside me and lapsed into a respectful quiet as we pulled into the graveyard. He waved his assent as I motioned that I would be back in a moment.

At their graves, I steeled myself against the weight of sorrow and all I had not said to them. Thankful that they had both heard Adam’s voice, I hoped they forgave me my silence. “Listen now if you can to my voice and help me find the right words,” I whispered over their graves.

Then I turned my attention to Cole. A relaxed concern filled his face as I returned to the car.

“I have something I need to tell you.” My heart pounded as I began to speak. He patted my hand. I started at the beginning, with Aunt Eva’s death and my move to the farm.

When I spoke of his first visit and our inexperienced sex, he smiled shyly, as he had then. “I imagine we’ve both learned a bit since, over the decades.”

I understood again my original attraction to him. When I mentioned finding Addie, his face brightened with interest. He listened intently to my brief recitation of her transformation, his head tilted to one side, his gaze resting on the tombstones in front of us, an odd quizzical expression on his face. I wondered for a second if he had a hearing problem. Then he said, “Buried, covered in mud in that storm.” His tone was level, a simple summary of what I’d said.

I nodded, encouraged, then stumbled on, uncertain that I could explain the depths of her change. He said nothing, but sat very still, listening, and did not interrupt.

He gave me a wry, sideways smile when I mentioned his broken leg. He adjusted his feet under the dashboard. “I still regret that.”

What could he have to regret, I wondered.

“That horse in that storm. I still feel it every winter.” He rubbed his leg. “But that’s nothing compared to what poor Addie must have been through before you found her.”

I couldn’t read his head shake—indulgence or dismissal? The inside of the car seemed too dark, too close. I wished we were outside in the full light, where I could see his face better.

I took a deep breath and plunged on. “She’s the reason I couldn’t be with you. She and I were very close . . . we were . . .” I tripped before the word “lovers.”

“Well, that does explain things.” For the first time since I’d mentioned Addie, he looked directly at me. “I’m not that surprised. But that was a long time ago. You went on to have a good marriage and all those pretty girls. You did fine. Me, too.”

“Cole, Addie wasn’t like us. She had an unusual voice. That’s why she was so good with the horses.”

He pointed his finger in agreement. “You’re right about that, she did have an amazing way with them. And a good singing voice, too.”

“No. No, I’m not talking about her singing voice.” Despite my prayer, I had no words to explain. “She had another way of . . . At night, with me . . .” I felt my face redden. “When she—”

He reached out and took one of my hands, lowering it to the console between us. “This is getting interesting—very interesting. But, Evelyn, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

“Cole, I want you to know. You have to know. You have to understand.” I wiped my face, sat up straighter, and began again.

He leaned back in his seat and listened to me through my description of Roy Hope. He nodded when I told him about finding the note from Addie and waiting for her to reappear. “Some people just take off and don’t look back.” He shook his head.

“But she did come back. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

He was still smiling, as I began to explain Addie’s transformation into Adam. His face registered greater surprise. His smile vanished. A muscle flinched in his jaw. “Look, I know Adam did something crazy at Jennie’s funeral. God knows, people talked about that for years. But this is even crazier. You’re trying to tell me they were the same person?”

I floundered and my heart pounded. I realized I’d been unconsciously counting on that one time everyone had heard Adam. He had been exposed then; everyone who’d heard him would know in their bones how extraordinary he was,