Read Online People Who Knock on the Door by Patricia Highsmith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Highsmith
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Richard has discovered God, as Arthur puts it. Maybe that’s the best way of—”
“He’s a born-again,” said Arthur.
“I wrote you a little about it, I know, Mama. Now we say grace and it’s church every Sunday—since Robbie pulled through with that tonsil crisis, remember?”
Joan was listening attentively and had glanced at Arthur. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of these things. So Richard talks about walking with God, things like that?”
“Yes!” Arthur said.
“Yes,” said his mother. “So we’ve bought an ecclesiastical encyclopedia and subscribed to a few magazines that keep turning up in the mailbox—” She laughed a little. “Just wanted to warn you that—” She broke off, because Richard’s car at that moment was visible out the kitchen window, turning into the driveway.
“You should see these magazines, Grandma,” Arthur said. “They’re anti-everything, anti-liberal, anti-abortion, anti-women’s rights—really anti-Catholics and Jews, but they don’t exactly say so.”
“All right , Arthur,” said his mother.
Arthur heard his father’s car door slam in the garage. “Have to add,” Arthur said to his grandmother, “when Christ comes again, we’ll all speak one language. English, of course.”
The kitchen door opened. “Well, Joan!” said Richard. “Welcome to our homestead! How are you?”
They kissed cheeks.
“Just fine,” said Joan. “You’re looking very well!”
“I’ve put on three pounds, don’t tell me !” Richard said, tugging his seersucker jacket down. “All having drinks? Where’s mine?”
“In the fridge, dear.” Lois swung around to open it for him.
Arthur watched his father take the alexander from the top shelf of the fridge. His mother always made him this sweet drink on special occasions.
“To you, dear mother-in-law!” Richard said, holding his glass aloft. “We’re pleased as can be to see you!”
Half an hour later, his father was saying, “Now we will all bow our heads for a moment.”
His mother’s laugh at something died abruptly. They were all seated, the five of them, at the pretty table in the kitchen. Arthur’s grandmother bent her head obediently, even clasped her hands.
“Father, we thank Thee for the blessings spread before us.
Enable us to be worthy of Thy love and kindness. Protect our home and fill—fill our souls as you have filled our—table.”
Arthur tried to suppress a laugh, but still it came out, because he had thought his father, at a loss for a word, had been about to say filled our bowls or bowels or even stomachs.
“ Arthur! ” said his mother.
His father gave him a look.
Robbie, unperturbed, gazed with interest at the big steak that his father had begun to slice.
“What’ve you been doing today?” Joan asked Robbie.
“Experimenting with worms,” said Robbie.
“How?” asked Arthur. “Sticking pins in them, I suppose.”
“In water.” Robbie looked at his brother with the sudden seriousness that his lean face could take on. “They drown.”
“They’re land creatures. Of course they drown,” Arthur said. “ Phylum Annelida, lumbrica terrestris , amen. Why’d you do that?”
“Pass me your grandmother’s plate, Arthur,” said Richard with impatience.
“Because I’m going fishing again,” said Robbie.
“Where do you go fishing?” asked Joan.
“Delmar Lake. Fellows I met at the swimming pool. “ Older fellows,” said Robbie with a glance at Arthur. “Men.”
“How old? Twenty? Gosh! Any girls?” asked Arthur.
“Robbie, what kind of boat were you in? Ordinary rowboat?” Lois asked.
Robbie hesitated. “A canoe.”
“That’s not true!” said Arthur. “Never seen a canoe at those boat houses on Delmar Lake.”
“Arthur, cool down,” said his mother. “All right, Robbie, I want you just to tell me next time you go. When you go. Do you understand? I’ve heard of people—”
“You’re collecting worms for the next fishing trip?” asked Joan.
“Not
“He’s a born-again,” said Arthur.
“I wrote you a little about it, I know, Mama. Now we say grace and it’s church every Sunday—since Robbie pulled through with that tonsil crisis, remember?”
Joan was listening attentively and had glanced at Arthur. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of these things. So Richard talks about walking with God, things like that?”
“Yes!” Arthur said.
“Yes,” said his mother. “So we’ve bought an ecclesiastical encyclopedia and subscribed to a few magazines that keep turning up in the mailbox—” She laughed a little. “Just wanted to warn you that—” She broke off, because Richard’s car at that moment was visible out the kitchen window, turning into the driveway.
“You should see these magazines, Grandma,” Arthur said. “They’re anti-everything, anti-liberal, anti-abortion, anti-women’s rights—really anti-Catholics and Jews, but they don’t exactly say so.”
“All right , Arthur,” said his mother.
Arthur heard his father’s car door slam in the garage. “Have to add,” Arthur said to his grandmother, “when Christ comes again, we’ll all speak one language. English, of course.”
The kitchen door opened. “Well, Joan!” said Richard. “Welcome to our homestead! How are you?”
They kissed cheeks.
“Just fine,” said Joan. “You’re looking very well!”
“I’ve put on three pounds, don’t tell me !” Richard said, tugging his seersucker jacket down. “All having drinks? Where’s mine?”
“In the fridge, dear.” Lois swung around to open it for him.
Arthur watched his father take the alexander from the top shelf of the fridge. His mother always made him this sweet drink on special occasions.
“To you, dear mother-in-law!” Richard said, holding his glass aloft. “We’re pleased as can be to see you!”
Half an hour later, his father was saying, “Now we will all bow our heads for a moment.”
His mother’s laugh at something died abruptly. They were all seated, the five of them, at the pretty table in the kitchen. Arthur’s grandmother bent her head obediently, even clasped her hands.
“Father, we thank Thee for the blessings spread before us.
Enable us to be worthy of Thy love and kindness. Protect our home and fill—fill our souls as you have filled our—table.”
Arthur tried to suppress a laugh, but still it came out, because he had thought his father, at a loss for a word, had been about to say filled our bowls or bowels or even stomachs.
“ Arthur! ” said his mother.
His father gave him a look.
Robbie, unperturbed, gazed with interest at the big steak that his father had begun to slice.
“What’ve you been doing today?” Joan asked Robbie.
“Experimenting with worms,” said Robbie.
“How?” asked Arthur. “Sticking pins in them, I suppose.”
“In water.” Robbie looked at his brother with the sudden seriousness that his lean face could take on. “They drown.”
“They’re land creatures. Of course they drown,” Arthur said. “ Phylum Annelida, lumbrica terrestris , amen. Why’d you do that?”
“Pass me your grandmother’s plate, Arthur,” said Richard with impatience.
“Because I’m going fishing again,” said Robbie.
“Where do you go fishing?” asked Joan.
“Delmar Lake. Fellows I met at the swimming pool. “ Older fellows,” said Robbie with a glance at Arthur. “Men.”
“How old? Twenty? Gosh! Any girls?” asked Arthur.
“Robbie, what kind of boat were you in? Ordinary rowboat?” Lois asked.
Robbie hesitated. “A canoe.”
“That’s not true!” said Arthur. “Never seen a canoe at those boat houses on Delmar Lake.”
“Arthur, cool down,” said his mother. “All right, Robbie, I want you just to tell me next time you go. When you go. Do you understand? I’ve heard of people—”
“You’re collecting worms for the next fishing trip?” asked Joan.
“Not
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