Read Online Easter Island by Jennifer Vanderbes - Free Book Online Page B

children and the books, his eyes resting on Elsa.
    “It was given to me when I was thirteen.”
    “What was, sir?”
    “The watch, it belonged to my father.”
    “Fine, sir.”
    “It has meaning for me.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “For one who teaches conversation, your English is quite limited.”
    Elsa did not like to be goaded. This was a danger of her position she had resolved to guard herself against. Employers were moody. Some days—if it was rainy, if they had not slept well—they might decide to draw out the details of your life, or offer theirs. Afterward they feared you would take it too far, abandon your work and gossip all day, and so they grew colder, struck a pose of even greater superiority. If you had let yourself believe in the friendship, this was a blow. It was easier, and safer, never to test that path.
    “I suppose so,” she said.
    “Very well, then. Continue with your lessons,” he said. “And if the urge strikes, do teach them some compound sentences.”
    They did not speak again until the day she received a letter from her father about the drafting of the Feeble-Minded Control Bill. Elsa had gone to her favorite garden bench to read, and had become visibly upset. When Max, out walking, saw her, when he asked what was the matter and motioned if he might sit down, Elsa was too unhappy, too preoccupied, to respond. Her mind was with Alice, and so when he sat beside her, that was of whom she spoke—she described Alice’s episodes, her abilities, the term
amentia,
the details of the legislation. Elsa’s openness risked impropriety, but Max didn’t seem to mind. He seemed intrigued by Alice’s predicament, as though it were a great riddle offered up for him to solve. He stroked his beard and stared straight ahead as Elsa spoke. The wind rustled the tree above them, and as the sun set, long shadows, like awnings, fell from the hedges. There was a sense of sanctuary on that bench, and Elsa understood very clearly that his empathy for her could be expressed only there. It was her understanding of this, she suspected, that put him at ease.
    Even after other encounters, after he began leading the children on long hikes that he insisted she join, for hours teaching them the names of the trees and shrubs they passed, even after he had sought her out several times, alone, when his wife, Margarete, was calling on friends, Elsa never behaved toward him as anything but her employer. It was a friendship, a simple companionship, which neither dreamed would escalate. They could talk easily, and they liked each other, though Elsa wasn’t sure at first what it was she liked in him. Max was attractive, but she never thought herself greatly impressed by that. He was intelligent, but Elsa had often met intelligent men at the university. Max, however, was the first person she’d ever met who needed no looking after. From time to time, she would overhear him lose his temper in some distant wing of the house, his voice rising for a moment about a telegram belatedly delivered, a door left unlocked, but it would subside quickly. He never looked upset, never tired, never nervous, and it was a bit of a joke among the servants that his self-sufficiency drove them mad. In him dwelled an awesome strength to which Elsa was drawn, though by attraction or envy, she couldn’t say. And then, unexpectedly, she fell in love. She sometimes wondered if being so far from Alice had allowed her indiscretion. Had Alice been with her, it would never have happened. Of that she feels certain.
    But Elsa is happy, now, to have Alice with her. And gradually her doubts concerning the trip are subsiding. Edward has promised they will turn back if the journey proves too much for Alice, but so far it thrills her. In Southampton, as the ship set out, she hooted and waved to the harbor crowd. She has explored and drawn each level of the steamer. And the amenities of travel—the books, the bags—enchant her. Several times a day, Alice opens her