Read Online Dear Mr. Knightley by Katherine Reay - Free Book Online Page B

hour to walk six blocks.
    And they didn’t find him, Mr. Knightley. He’s still out there. Was he behind me today? Is he near the ‘L’? Is he near Grace House? Does he wander the streets? I don’t have any answers. I don’t even remember his face.
    Please get as much of your tuition back as you can. Again, I’m so sorry.
    Sincerely,
    Sam

NOVEMBER 6
    Dear Ms. Moore,
    Father John and Mr. Knightley agree that no time should be lost to make you feel safe. Nor should you sacrifice your program. As you know, Father John has secured an above-garage apartment for you at the home of Mr. and Mrs. David Conley on Lake Avenue, two blocks south of campus and within easy walking distance of downtown Evanston.
    Mr. Knightley has extended your grant to cover the additional expenses such a move entails. You will not need to seek further employment during your tenure at Medill. Additionally, please find the enclosed check for $300. This money is to be used for cab fare to and from Northwestern University until your move this weekend.
    Father John can provide further details. Additionally, please contact me if any of these arrangements fail to meet your expectations.
    Sincerely,
    Laura Temper
    Personal Assistant to
    Mr. G. Knightley

NOVEMBER 9
    Dear Mr. Knightley,
    Thank you. I don’t understand this kind of generosity, but I thank you—you and Father John. It’s a little overwhelming, to be honest. I questioned Father John about it.
    “This doesn’t make sense. I don’t need to get a job? This is costing that foundation a fortune. What’s the catch?”
    “There isn’t one. Consider it grace—a gift unwarranted and undeserved.”
    “Everything comes with a price, Father John.”
    “Not everything, Sam. Not always. The foundation’s director has never extracted a price before, never even accepted thanks. Your personal letters are the most he’s ever become involved.”
    “You don’t know him?”
    “I feel I do, but, no, I’ve never met him.”
    “Then I’m coming after you if this turns weird.” I raised my eyebrows. I was both making a joke and letting Father John glimpse my skepticism. It didn’t work—moving the right eyebrow made me flinch and simply reminded me why you and Father John are doing this—and how much I need it.
    Father John caught it all and smiled at me. “Don’t fret. I’ll be right behind you.”
    “Thank you.”
    That was a couple days ago, and now I’m packed, just some clothes and a whole bunch of books. I move tomorrow morning. And I attended classes these last three days. Thank you forthe cab money. I have savings and could have paid for it myself, but I didn’t think of it. Your foundation’s check reminded me that I have options. I’m not a total victim, despite how I feel. Thank you for that too.
    I said good-bye to my Buckhorn Boys this afternoon. I think most felt relief that I won’t tutor anymore. I’ve been a more regular academic influence than most of their teachers. Only Jaden, I think, might miss me.
    “Sam, I only got to division. There’s lots of math left.”
    “You’ll be fine, Jaden. You’ve got a sharp mind. Keep at it.” I hugged him. I hugged all of them, whether they wanted it or not.
    Hannah laughed at me. “Is that more hugging than you’ve ever done in your life?”
    She meant it as a joke, but it stopped me cold. I don’t like hugs. I don’t like physical contact much. I have few childhood memories of it being gentle.
    Hannah looked horrified by her comment. “Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I didn’t think.”
    “No. It’s okay. I guess it’s a disadvantage to be so guarded. You miss out, don’t you?” Maybe I’m more like Jane Bennet than I thought . . .
    Hannah pulled me back. “Wait here, I’ve got something for you.” She ran to the office. When she returned, I plastered on a quick smile.
    “I hope you like it.” She handed me a small, wrapped package.
    I tore the paper and found a soft blue leather