Read Online A Girl Between by Marjorie Weismantel - Free Book Online

for a teenager to purposely go around looking at old houses,
but I’ve almost become obsessed with this place.  It’s related to the feeling
that I've been here before.  Why does this town feel so familiar to me?  I wish
I knew.
    I donned my baseball cap and most comfortable T-shirt and
shorts and rode off.  On the way into town I got a close up look at some of the
old homes that grandma was talking about.  If you close one eye and block out some
of the stores on the east side of Main Street, you can almost imagine how this
town looked in those Puritan days with women wearing long dresses and people
walking or riding horses everywhere.
    Near the church, there’s an old dark red house that I had noticed
when we first came into town.  It's the one that I feel like I've been in
before.  It's a small square-ish house that, I think, is called a ‘saltbox’. 
The windows had these tiny window panes so I knew it was rather dark inside.  I
could imagine how the rooms were laid out.  I pictured a large fireplace with a
big black pot hanging in it.  There were only a couple of simple chairs in
there to sit on.
    As I was staring at the place and imagining what the inside
looked like, I suddenly noticed the movement of an old lady rocking in a chair outside
by a side door.  She was a tiny thing, wearing an apron over a long blue dress,
pushing the rocker with those old fashioned shoes that tie in the front with
chunky heels.  She had white hair pulled back, probably in an old lady bun, and
was looking directly at me.  She was probably wondering what I was doing,
staring at her house.  I finally decided to address her.  Maybe she knew
something about the background of this place.
    "Hi,” I shouted. “Hope you don’t mind me checking out
your house.  It’s looks really old.”  
    She continued to stare at me.  She finally replied in an
elderly quavering voice, "Hello Elsa".
    Before I answered, I smiled reassuringly at her, "My name
isn't Elsa.  You must have me mixed up with someone else."
    I hopped off my bike and strolled toward her.  As I got
closer, I got a better look at her face.  I had initially presumed her to be a
flakey old woman, especially after she called me Elsa.  I realized, however,
when I studied her eyes, that she had a look about her.  She wasn’t
foggy-brained at all.  Her eyes were as clear and sharp as a bright sunny day.  Her
aura started to emerge as a beautiful clear golden cloud.  I had never seen
anything like it.  I associated it with goodness and joy.  Then, some other
feeling drifted over me, a sense of peace and love, an out of this world,
heavenly sensation.  I wanted to soak it up, but it was fleeting.  Did I imagine
that?
    I took my hat off when I got to her and said, “My name is
Tess.”
    "Well, you were Elsa at that time.  Would you like to
see how the house has fared?" She asked me as she stood and picked up
whatever she was knitting.
    How the house has fared?  What was she talking about?  "Yes,
I’d love to see the inside your house.  And what is your name, ma’am?" I
inquired.
    “You don’t know my name, dear?  I’m Miss Huggins, Cassie
Huggins.  You can call me Miss Cassie,” she answered.  Then, she slowly turned
around and walked directly to a side door.  The doorway was certainly very
short.  If I was over 5'10" I would've had to duck.  Were people that
short in the old days? 
    While entering the doorway, I turned and I asked her, “How
long have you lived here, Miss Cassie?”
    "I have lived here a very long time; for my entire life
in fact.  I was even born in this house.  Would you like to come in and join me
for a cup of tea?"  She invited as she pulled off her straw hat.
    "Yes ma’am.  That would be nice." I responded as
my eyes took everything in.  The inside was quite dark and spare of furniture.  We
went into the back, where I knew the kitchen was located.  It was much like I
had anticipated except some of the interior had