Winds of Salem
“Norman said simply, turning to his wife. They were on the train headed back to North Hampton. “I’ll do what the Oracle said would get Freya back.”Startled, Joanna looked at her husband. She shook her head and frowned. “Absolutely not!” she said, letting her head fall on his shoulder. “There must be something else we can do.”“There isn’t,” Norman said softly as he held her close. But he let the subject drop for the moment.They had passed Patchogue, the midway point between New York City and Mont...auk, where Ingrid would pick them up. Norman’s car had broken down in the city. The trip had been more than the dinosaur Oldsmobile could handle.He gazed out at the hills covered in frost, the weathered barns. The view gave hints of seascape, his beloved ocean. He lowered his Ray-Ban Clubmasters from the crown of his head over his eyes. He felt the pull of the water, but it was weakening, fading like a slowing pulse. His wife was now fast asleep, her head on his chest, and he dared not move an inch, even as his muscles cramped.MoreLess
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