?”
“Clarie.”
She turned around, surprised by tears. She was too shocked and
disappointed to let anyone see her cry. Why hadn’t she expected this?
Why didn’t she ever learn? No matter what she did, nothing was ever the
same for her as for the others.
“Clarie. Calm yourself. You’re of age, and you’re a fine, intelligent
girl. If Danial Haskell is truly the man for you, you know we will support
5 4
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
you in every way we can, and pray daily for your happiness, as we always
have.”
She whirled around. “You don’t trust me! I know him—you don’t!
All you see is that he’s different from . . . from . . .” She made a gesture of
frustration. Even in her anger she couldn’t bring herself to say to her
father that Danial’s difference from all that she had known was what she
loved about him most.
Her mother came back in and closed the door behind her. In the
kitchen Mabel and Otis were noisily washing the supper things, while
Leander could be heard on the stairs threatening and cajoling the littlest
Osgoods up toward bed, while they shrieked in mock fear. Mother sat
down in the rocking chair near the stove and said, “Clarie, dear. Sit. We’ll
be as happy for you as you could want. Just let us talk it over quietly
together.”
Claris sat. Her cheeks were burning. She was furious.
Her father said, “This is a small village, Claris. We’ve known the
Haskells—I knew Danial’s grandparents well, and we both knew his fa-
ther.”
“I went to school with Elzina Haskell. Danial’s aunt.”
“It’s not a happy family, Claris. There’s a sour streak there. You’re
used to people who are happy and kind.”
“Oh!” Claris almost shouted, but she damped her voice down at the
last minute. She knew her temper made her family look at each other
when they thought she didn’t see. “Danial is not his family. Danial is
Danial. I know him and you don’t. I never heard anything so unfair. Or
unkind, speaking of kindness.”
Her father looked troubled and stared down at his hands. His wife
leaned forward, though she looked as if she’d rather be anywhere than
here.
“He seems like a decent man, Claris. We both think so.” Claris
turned a little in her chair, a twitch of irritation. They had been talking
5 5
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
him over. They had been waiting for this, talking him over, because they
didn’t like his parents. “Does he mean to keep on on the island?”
“I don’t know. What difference does it make?”
They both seemed about to speak at once. Claris’s father shut his
mouth.
“More than you know, Claris. Island life is lonely. And the Haskells
are hard-shell Baptists—you don’t know what that’s like.”
“Danial isn’t.”
“He may not be now, but he was raised that way. And people
change with time. As the twig is bent, most often.”
“I’d feel better about it if he meant to move into town,” said her
father. “We’d miss you if you moved way out there. And I’m afraid you’d
miss us. Your cousins, all your friends.”
You don’t know me at all, Claris thought. You never have. You
think I’m just like you, and that’s the whole trouble. You think I should
be like Mary. Her heart burned to protect Danial from people who would
judge the boy by his father, by people who didn’t understand that love
can make everything right. She wasn’t afraid of quiet, or loneliness. She’d
never been so lonely in her life as she often felt in the midst of a crowd
of people. All laughing and talking and not one of them seeing a single
real thing about her. She believed Danial saw. Danial understood.
5 6
This is what happened the day that changed everything.
I had decided to go up to the library to see what I could learn
about the murder on Beal Island. It would give me a project for the
summer. What had made Sallie Haskell, a girl of almost my age, into
a murderer? I was intensely
“Clarie.”
She turned around, surprised by tears. She was too shocked and
disappointed to let anyone see her cry. Why hadn’t she expected this?
Why didn’t she ever learn? No matter what she did, nothing was ever the
same for her as for the others.
“Clarie. Calm yourself. You’re of age, and you’re a fine, intelligent
girl. If Danial Haskell is truly the man for you, you know we will support
5 4
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
you in every way we can, and pray daily for your happiness, as we always
have.”
She whirled around. “You don’t trust me! I know him—you don’t!
All you see is that he’s different from . . . from . . .” She made a gesture of
frustration. Even in her anger she couldn’t bring herself to say to her
father that Danial’s difference from all that she had known was what she
loved about him most.
Her mother came back in and closed the door behind her. In the
kitchen Mabel and Otis were noisily washing the supper things, while
Leander could be heard on the stairs threatening and cajoling the littlest
Osgoods up toward bed, while they shrieked in mock fear. Mother sat
down in the rocking chair near the stove and said, “Clarie, dear. Sit. We’ll
be as happy for you as you could want. Just let us talk it over quietly
together.”
Claris sat. Her cheeks were burning. She was furious.
Her father said, “This is a small village, Claris. We’ve known the
Haskells—I knew Danial’s grandparents well, and we both knew his fa-
ther.”
“I went to school with Elzina Haskell. Danial’s aunt.”
“It’s not a happy family, Claris. There’s a sour streak there. You’re
used to people who are happy and kind.”
“Oh!” Claris almost shouted, but she damped her voice down at the
last minute. She knew her temper made her family look at each other
when they thought she didn’t see. “Danial is not his family. Danial is
Danial. I know him and you don’t. I never heard anything so unfair. Or
unkind, speaking of kindness.”
Her father looked troubled and stared down at his hands. His wife
leaned forward, though she looked as if she’d rather be anywhere than
here.
“He seems like a decent man, Claris. We both think so.” Claris
turned a little in her chair, a twitch of irritation. They had been talking
5 5
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
him over. They had been waiting for this, talking him over, because they
didn’t like his parents. “Does he mean to keep on on the island?”
“I don’t know. What difference does it make?”
They both seemed about to speak at once. Claris’s father shut his
mouth.
“More than you know, Claris. Island life is lonely. And the Haskells
are hard-shell Baptists—you don’t know what that’s like.”
“Danial isn’t.”
“He may not be now, but he was raised that way. And people
change with time. As the twig is bent, most often.”
“I’d feel better about it if he meant to move into town,” said her
father. “We’d miss you if you moved way out there. And I’m afraid you’d
miss us. Your cousins, all your friends.”
You don’t know me at all, Claris thought. You never have. You
think I’m just like you, and that’s the whole trouble. You think I should
be like Mary. Her heart burned to protect Danial from people who would
judge the boy by his father, by people who didn’t understand that love
can make everything right. She wasn’t afraid of quiet, or loneliness. She’d
never been so lonely in her life as she often felt in the midst of a crowd
of people. All laughing and talking and not one of them seeing a single
real thing about her. She believed Danial saw. Danial understood.
5 6
This is what happened the day that changed everything.
I had decided to go up to the library to see what I could learn
about the murder on Beal Island. It would give me a project for the
summer. What had made Sallie Haskell, a girl of almost my age, into
a murderer? I was intensely
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