Read Online Farthest House by Margaret Lukas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Lukas
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“Angels are coming tonight.”
The elder nun gasped, “Sister! Wait outside.” She glared at the pictures and then again at Julian. “I insist you return those to me.”
He feigned a smile, “I’ll keep them.”
The nun reached, and Willow’s mouth opened when she saw Papa swing the pictures behind his back. Sister Dominic Agnes would have to touch his arm to reach again. Wasn’t Papa committing a mortal sin?
He stood still, waiting until Sister Dominic Agnes stepped out onto the porch beside Sister Beatrice. He stood still until they descended the steps and reached the sidewalk. He crossed the room, picked up his cigarette, inhaled smoke, and blew it toward the ceiling.
“Only half a cigarette, Papa. You did good.”
“Why are you drawing while others are being taught? If all you do is draw, how do you expect to learn how to take care of yourself?”
There it was, more of the rejection and loneliness she’d felt all week. This time not from Mary or Sister Dominic Agnes but from Papa. He was even telling her she needed to know how to take care of herself because he wouldn’t always be with her. She hurried down the hall to her room. With Doll in her arms, she curled into a ball on the bed, making herself as small as she could. Doll was crying, too.
She didn’t hear his footsteps enter her room, but she heard his thoughts as he stood over her. So small. Still only bird bones. How’s she going to make it if I don’t keep pushing her? Some punishment, but nothing Jeannie would think too harsh.
Willow screamed and rolled over on top of Doll, hugging her. A tug and Doll was gone. Willow’s arms were empty, as though she hugged herself. But that was hugging nothing.
10
Willow cried many nights for Doll. I knew she cried in part for what she supposed losing Doll represented, that she deserved to be alone. She pulled off her pillowcase, stuffed a shirt in the bottom, and hugged it.
Julian was sorry. For her birthday, he bought her a plastic doll with yellow hair. It came in a colorful box with a cellophane front. Willow thought the object an intruder, too hard to lie on, smelling like bad oatmeal, and nothing like Doll. It reminded her of Mary Wolfe and things she wanted to forget: having her hand struck with a paddle, Derrick making the class laugh, missing the May Procession, and Sister Dominic Agnes’s proclamation.
At first, Willow stuffed it under her bed, but at night, sleeping on the floor, the hard blue eyes stared at her. She pushed the doll to the back of her closet floor and threw a towel over it. Julian asked only once, wondering if she’d packed her new doll for the weekend with Mémé. She shook her head. He looked at her for a long moment. “That’s all right,” he said. When she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his waist, he held her.
January of her ninth year, a far deeper loss loomed unseen on the horizon. At Farthest House, dark clouds were gathering, proving my worst fears true. I could only watch and wait.
It was a Friday afternoon. Snow had been falling for an hour. Julian considered not taking Willow out on the roads, but he was scheduled for work later in the evening. With his weekends free, he picked up extra hours, and given the weather predictions, the precinct was going to need every hand. His mother also expected Willow, and Willow loved going and came home happy. While he wished he could be her whole world, he understood she needed her Farthest House family, too. And if some day he took a bullet to the chest?
Sitting beside him in the car, Willow tried to look innocent as she kept one hand pressed to the front of her coat, hoping the week’s worth of drawings hidden beneath weren’t getting wrinkled. Not since that bad day had she let anyone other than Mémé see her pictures.
The windshield wipers whipped back and forth, and she watched Papa light a cigarette, turning his head with each exhale to send the smoke through his half inch of rolled-down window.
The elder nun gasped, “Sister! Wait outside.” She glared at the pictures and then again at Julian. “I insist you return those to me.”
He feigned a smile, “I’ll keep them.”
The nun reached, and Willow’s mouth opened when she saw Papa swing the pictures behind his back. Sister Dominic Agnes would have to touch his arm to reach again. Wasn’t Papa committing a mortal sin?
He stood still, waiting until Sister Dominic Agnes stepped out onto the porch beside Sister Beatrice. He stood still until they descended the steps and reached the sidewalk. He crossed the room, picked up his cigarette, inhaled smoke, and blew it toward the ceiling.
“Only half a cigarette, Papa. You did good.”
“Why are you drawing while others are being taught? If all you do is draw, how do you expect to learn how to take care of yourself?”
There it was, more of the rejection and loneliness she’d felt all week. This time not from Mary or Sister Dominic Agnes but from Papa. He was even telling her she needed to know how to take care of herself because he wouldn’t always be with her. She hurried down the hall to her room. With Doll in her arms, she curled into a ball on the bed, making herself as small as she could. Doll was crying, too.
She didn’t hear his footsteps enter her room, but she heard his thoughts as he stood over her. So small. Still only bird bones. How’s she going to make it if I don’t keep pushing her? Some punishment, but nothing Jeannie would think too harsh.
Willow screamed and rolled over on top of Doll, hugging her. A tug and Doll was gone. Willow’s arms were empty, as though she hugged herself. But that was hugging nothing.
10
Willow cried many nights for Doll. I knew she cried in part for what she supposed losing Doll represented, that she deserved to be alone. She pulled off her pillowcase, stuffed a shirt in the bottom, and hugged it.
Julian was sorry. For her birthday, he bought her a plastic doll with yellow hair. It came in a colorful box with a cellophane front. Willow thought the object an intruder, too hard to lie on, smelling like bad oatmeal, and nothing like Doll. It reminded her of Mary Wolfe and things she wanted to forget: having her hand struck with a paddle, Derrick making the class laugh, missing the May Procession, and Sister Dominic Agnes’s proclamation.
At first, Willow stuffed it under her bed, but at night, sleeping on the floor, the hard blue eyes stared at her. She pushed the doll to the back of her closet floor and threw a towel over it. Julian asked only once, wondering if she’d packed her new doll for the weekend with Mémé. She shook her head. He looked at her for a long moment. “That’s all right,” he said. When she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his waist, he held her.
January of her ninth year, a far deeper loss loomed unseen on the horizon. At Farthest House, dark clouds were gathering, proving my worst fears true. I could only watch and wait.
It was a Friday afternoon. Snow had been falling for an hour. Julian considered not taking Willow out on the roads, but he was scheduled for work later in the evening. With his weekends free, he picked up extra hours, and given the weather predictions, the precinct was going to need every hand. His mother also expected Willow, and Willow loved going and came home happy. While he wished he could be her whole world, he understood she needed her Farthest House family, too. And if some day he took a bullet to the chest?
Sitting beside him in the car, Willow tried to look innocent as she kept one hand pressed to the front of her coat, hoping the week’s worth of drawings hidden beneath weren’t getting wrinkled. Not since that bad day had she let anyone other than Mémé see her pictures.
The windshield wipers whipped back and forth, and she watched Papa light a cigarette, turning his head with each exhale to send the smoke through his half inch of rolled-down window.
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