Read Online Abbeville by Jack Fuller - Free Book Online Page B

turned.
    â€œWait,” he said. “What did I do?”
    â€œOne day and the money already has you,” she said.
    â€œIt isn’t like that,” he said. “Here, take it. I don’t care about the money.”
    He lifted her hand and turned it palm up so he could empty his pocket into it. There was enough for her to live on for weeks.
    â€œWhat is this for?” she asked.
    â€œFor what happened to you,” he said, closing her hand on the bills.
    She turned again and opened the big old door.
    â€œPlease don’t think ill of me,” he said.
    â€œAre you going to come in or not?” she said, stepping back to makeway for him. Behind her was a single room with a couch and bureau and neatly made bed.
    â€œWhere are your parents?” he said.
    â€œI’ve been on my own since I was fifteen,” she said.
    â€œAre you sure it is all right?” he said from the doorway.
    â€œIt will be just fine,” she said.

6
    E MIL S CHUMPETER WAS NOT A LETTER writer. About the only time he felt the need was to offer condolences upon someone’s passing or to scold Sears, Roebuck. Then he would spend countless hours worrying the language, which never seemed less like his first than when he dipped his pen into the black void of an inkwell. It took a lot to get Emil to confront that abyss.
    So when Karl found on his bed a letter in his father’s Saxon hand, he broke the seal with trembling fingers. But instead of heralding death or illness or telling him to come home, it announced that Cristina Vogel had left for Chicago to spend the summer as a seamstress, staying with her mother’s sister, who had escaped Abbeville at nineteen to marry a man more than half again her age. His father thoughtfully included the address.
    The news was welcome, but not without complication, coming as closely as it did upon Karl’s evening at Luella’s flat. And oh, what an extraordinary evening it had been. Luella had been more openly affectionate with him than anyone in Abbeville would have dared. Whenthey’d parted, disheveled, Luella had thanked him for having more discipline than she. Still, things had happened under her caresses that before had only happened to him in dreams. He said he would, of course, do the honorable thing. She seemed to find that amusing and sent him on his way.
    After receiving the letter Karl went directly to the place where Cristina was staying. The man who answered his knock wore a white dress shirt without its collar and a pair of bright red silk suspenders that secured his pants loosely over his belly like a cartoon barrel around a poor man’s middle.
    â€œNo solicitors,” the man said.
    â€œI’ve come to call on Cristina Vogel,” Karl said.
    â€œOh, you have, have you? I don’t wonder that she already has begun to attract the bees. Unfortunately, you will have to fly honeyless back to your hive.”
    â€œI’m Karl Schumpeter,” he said. “Cristina and I knew each other in Abbeville.”
    â€œWell,” said the portly man, “that is another matter entirely.”
    It was not at all clear whether he meant entirely better or entirely worse.
    â€œWe were friends,” said Karl. “I think she would tell you that.”
    â€œIf you are friends,” said the portly man, “then you must know that she is engaged to be married.”
    All Karl was able to manage was a whisper.
    â€œI have been away.”
    â€œEngaged to Harley Ansel,” said the portly man.
    Harley Ansel. How could she promise herself to Harley Ansel?
    â€œYou seem stricken, young man,” the man with suspenders said. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll get you some water. Cristina is in her room.”
    â€œMaybe I’d better just go,” said Karl.
    â€œIf she wants to say hello to you,” the man with suspenders said, “I see no reason why she should not.”
    Harley Ansel. Karl had