The Letter. Elizabeth Blackwell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      “Who?”

      “Henry Armstrong.”

      Lydia knew who he was by then, but not much more. Henry. Slim, wiry, with lightly freckled cheeks and thick blond hair that stuck up in a cowlick on the back of his head. Henry, who sat in the back of the classroom and never spoke. A farmer’s son who disappeared for a week or two in April to help with the planting. Indistinguishable from all the rest of them—or so Lydia thought.

      “Henry? What makes you say that?” she asked Melanie.

      “The way I’ve seen him stare at you,” Melanie said. “He looks at you more than any other girl.”

      “Did he say something?”

      “No. But you know how boys are,” Melanie said with a wise nod. Lydia wondered about her friend’s qualifications as an expert in male behavior. As far as she could tell, Melanie’s interactions with boys consisted of fluttering her eyelashes, giggling and not much else. Still, this news about Henry was intriguing. Not that she cared about him, particularly; she hardly knew him. But the idea that anyone might be paying attention to her was encouraging.

      Despite Melanie’s promising news, the social itself went as badly as Lydia imagined it would. The boys lined up against one wall, the girls against another, and a good half hour passed before anyone dared cross to the middle of the room. Eventually, a few awkward pairings stomped across the floor, under the watchful eyes of parental chaperones. Melanie even danced with Lyle Shea, rolling her eyes behind his back for Lydia’s benefit. Lydia remained with her back pressed against the wall, despite Melanie’s whispered attempts to find her a partner when she thought Lydia wasn’t listening.

      Henry Armstrong wasn’t there.

      Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, Lydia finally strode outside, wincing at the sun hovering over the horizon. She saw Mrs. Glover, the woman who ran the general store and acted as local postmistress, sweeping up the store’s front porch before closing. Lydia dashed across the street.

      “Mrs. Glover,” she called out. “I don’t suppose you received a package for me, did you?”

      Mrs. Glover leaned against the broom with a weary expression that signaled her lack of enthusiasm at being the local representative of the U.S. Postal Service.

      “Well, now, I might have.”

      Even Mrs. Glover’s sourness couldn’t dispel Lydia’s excitement. “May I come in and get it, please?”

      The woman sighed heavily. “I was about to close up, but I suppose if you’re quick about it…”

      Lydia raced inside and ran behind the counter where Mrs. Glover piled oversize mail. The box was toward the bottom—how long had it been sitting there? Her name was clearly marked, along with her address. But the Knox Junction postal service did not include home delivery. It was up to each family to appear up at Mrs. Glover’s to claim their boxes and envelopes—when she felt like retrieving them.

      “Thank you!” Lydia called as she ran down the steps. She couldn’t wait until she got home to open it. Instead, she walked quickly to the porch swings at the Knox Junction Hotel, sat down and tore open the packaging. Nestled inside the box was the latest selection from the Book-of-the-Month Club. The subscription had been a gift from Father on her last birthday. Since Knox Junction had no public library, it was her one connection to the outside world. Each new delivery felt like Christmas.

      She was about to pull the book out of the box when she noticed a shadow hovering over her. She glanced up and locked eyes with Henry Armstrong.

      For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. His hair had been flattened with pomade, and he was wearing a stiffly pressed white shirt. His fingers twitched as they moved in and out of his pockets.

      “Uh, is the, uh, social over, then?”

      “I’m not sure,” Lydia said. “I left early.”

      Henry looked down at his shoes, while Lydia smoothed the paper wrapped around her book. Those two sentences were more words than they’d exchanged during the entire school year. And that could’ve been the end of it—Henry might have said thank you, and turned toward the school, and Lydia might have walked home and delved into her book and never given Henry another thought.

      But something about the package in Lydia’s lap caught Henry’s attention.

      “Book-of-the-Month Club?” he asked.

      “Yes,” said Lydia, surprised.

      “My mother used to get those.”

      “Oh?”

      “Well, she hasn’t for a while now. But she kept all her old ones. I read them when I get the chance.”

      Somehow, in that moment, with hardly anything being said, everything was said. Henry read books, and his mother used to read books, but something had happened and there was no money for indulgences such as Book-of-the-Month Club, so Henry had to work as hard as everyone else, but sometimes, at night when he wasn’t too exhausted, he would read and escape into other worlds. Just like Lydia.

      “What’s your favorite?” Lydia asked.

      Henry shrugged and shifted his weight from side to side. “I dunno,” he said. “There was one I read not too long ago—Lost Horizon. That was good.”

      Lydia smiled. “I read that one, too. Shangri-La. I love books that make you feel you’ve gone somewhere else.”

      “Away from Knox Junction?”

      “I don’t mean—It’s not that I don’t like it here…” She watched as Henry’s face was transformed by a smile, his clear blue eyes twinkling at her. He looked like a little boy, delighted by a new discovery. Lydia couldn’t help smiling back.

      “I don’t blame you,” he said. “Nothing interesting ever happens around here.”

      “Well, there’s the social.” Lydia glanced up at him. “I don’t want to keep you, if you were going over there.”

      Henry shook his head. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he said. “How ’bout you?”

      Lydia laughed. “I’m terrible.”

      And then Lydia was no longer conscious of talking to a boy—a boy who might actually have some kind of interest in her, no less. She just knew that she wanted the conversation to continue, because there was something about him that made her comfortable. When Lydia offered to show Henry her new book, she knew he’d sit down next to her.

      “You know, if you like to read, we’ve got heaps of books,” Lydia said as Henry settled on the swing. “I’d be happy to lend you some.”

      “Thank you.” His obvious delight at her offer was enough to start a warm rush in Lydia’s stomach. Years later, she realized it was the first hint of the feeling that would one day turn to love.

      

      The war affected Knox Junction only gradually at first. A few local boys joined up, including Henry’s older brother, Timothy. Lydia’s СКАЧАТЬ