Read Online River in the Sea by Tina Boscha - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tina Boscha
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form before she decided. The zout would be a treat, a rare something just for herself, a little secret that wouldn’t endanger anyone. At worst it’d give her a sore in her mouth.
“Leen? What are you doing in here?”
Leen twisted around and was horrified to hear the paper crinkle from inside the layers of her skirt. She coughed to cover the sound, and felt the nerves in the back of her neck ripple down between her shoulder blades.
From the doorway, Mrs. Deinum regarded her carefully. “Are you feeling well?” She walked right up to Leen and touched Leen’s forehead. Leen kept as still as she could. “You’re warm. Your face is burning up.” She reached for Leen’s hands and Leen yanked them out of her pockets, and as Mrs. Deinum felt them, remarking how sweaty they were, they began to shake. She was caught. There was no way she’d get away with it again.
“Heh, leafe , you’re feverish up and down, aren’t you?”
Fragments of words tumbled out of her mouth. Leen tried to say something about feeling sick in her stomach, which, in that moment, became truth, and Mrs. Deinum said, “You don’t look very good, I’ll tell you that.” She sighed and glanced around the spare shelves. “This is hardly the place to take a break, now is it? Let me make you some tea and then you can get home a little early.”
Leen followed Mrs. Deinum to the kitchen. Already she was getting out of a half hour of work; this benevolence could not be genuine.
“Sit,” Mrs. Deinum said. Leen obeyed. Blix . Had she closed the lid of the bin? She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Mrs. Deinum put the water on, her skirt and hose sliding and hissing against each other as she moved around the sink set into a narrow counter top covered with painted tiles, tiles Leen had wiped dry after she had washed and put away the lunch dishes. It was just after lunch when she had begun sweeping the kitchen floor free of crumbs, and then the hallway, and then the supply room, her broom suddenly still as she saw the bin, her grip already loosening on the handle.
Mrs. Deinum noisily opened the cupboards to gather the cups and teaspoons. Now it was past the moment of confession, when she should have handed over the salt, crying over how terrible she felt, and after listening to the rebuke, accepted the amnesty. Leen’s distress turned to a fretful annoyance. Hurry up , she mouthed to Mrs. Deinum’s back, making sure her voice did not escape. She ran her tongue throughout her mouth to rid herself of any last hidden bits of salt, as if it was more illicit than the evidence poking her hip through the worn fabric of her pocket.
Mrs. Deinum set the tea on the table and settled herself into her chair. Leen could hear her undergarments slide against each other as she arranged her legs.
“Go on, famke , drink up! It’ll warm you before you head home. No use getting sicker in that wind,” Mrs. Deinum said, pushing the tea closer to Leen. For a moment she was glad to have something her hands could latch onto so they wouldn’t shake, but when she brought the cup to her lips, her whole head quivered with nerves. She waited until Mrs. Deinum took a sip herself to steady the cup with her other hand and swallow a drop before she set the cup down again, still using both hands.
Mrs. Deinum shifted her weight in her chair. She was forever rearranging herself, patting her hair, fingering a broach or a button. “Goodness knows I don’t want to fall ill either, and those fevers are catching. But maybe for a few minutes we can chat. So, tell me, how is your moeder ?”
“ Goet .”
“And your sister? Does she have a young man?”
Leen shook her head. For a second she was distracted by the thought of Tine with a beau. But that lasted just a moment before she was back to panic. She contemplated spilling the tea, just to empty the cup and get out of there. But then she’d have to clean it. Mrs. Deinum wouldn’t think she was that sick to clean it
“Leen? What are you doing in here?”
Leen twisted around and was horrified to hear the paper crinkle from inside the layers of her skirt. She coughed to cover the sound, and felt the nerves in the back of her neck ripple down between her shoulder blades.
From the doorway, Mrs. Deinum regarded her carefully. “Are you feeling well?” She walked right up to Leen and touched Leen’s forehead. Leen kept as still as she could. “You’re warm. Your face is burning up.” She reached for Leen’s hands and Leen yanked them out of her pockets, and as Mrs. Deinum felt them, remarking how sweaty they were, they began to shake. She was caught. There was no way she’d get away with it again.
“Heh, leafe , you’re feverish up and down, aren’t you?”
Fragments of words tumbled out of her mouth. Leen tried to say something about feeling sick in her stomach, which, in that moment, became truth, and Mrs. Deinum said, “You don’t look very good, I’ll tell you that.” She sighed and glanced around the spare shelves. “This is hardly the place to take a break, now is it? Let me make you some tea and then you can get home a little early.”
Leen followed Mrs. Deinum to the kitchen. Already she was getting out of a half hour of work; this benevolence could not be genuine.
“Sit,” Mrs. Deinum said. Leen obeyed. Blix . Had she closed the lid of the bin? She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Mrs. Deinum put the water on, her skirt and hose sliding and hissing against each other as she moved around the sink set into a narrow counter top covered with painted tiles, tiles Leen had wiped dry after she had washed and put away the lunch dishes. It was just after lunch when she had begun sweeping the kitchen floor free of crumbs, and then the hallway, and then the supply room, her broom suddenly still as she saw the bin, her grip already loosening on the handle.
Mrs. Deinum noisily opened the cupboards to gather the cups and teaspoons. Now it was past the moment of confession, when she should have handed over the salt, crying over how terrible she felt, and after listening to the rebuke, accepted the amnesty. Leen’s distress turned to a fretful annoyance. Hurry up , she mouthed to Mrs. Deinum’s back, making sure her voice did not escape. She ran her tongue throughout her mouth to rid herself of any last hidden bits of salt, as if it was more illicit than the evidence poking her hip through the worn fabric of her pocket.
Mrs. Deinum set the tea on the table and settled herself into her chair. Leen could hear her undergarments slide against each other as she arranged her legs.
“Go on, famke , drink up! It’ll warm you before you head home. No use getting sicker in that wind,” Mrs. Deinum said, pushing the tea closer to Leen. For a moment she was glad to have something her hands could latch onto so they wouldn’t shake, but when she brought the cup to her lips, her whole head quivered with nerves. She waited until Mrs. Deinum took a sip herself to steady the cup with her other hand and swallow a drop before she set the cup down again, still using both hands.
Mrs. Deinum shifted her weight in her chair. She was forever rearranging herself, patting her hair, fingering a broach or a button. “Goodness knows I don’t want to fall ill either, and those fevers are catching. But maybe for a few minutes we can chat. So, tell me, how is your moeder ?”
“ Goet .”
“And your sister? Does she have a young man?”
Leen shook her head. For a second she was distracted by the thought of Tine with a beau. But that lasted just a moment before she was back to panic. She contemplated spilling the tea, just to empty the cup and get out of there. But then she’d have to clean it. Mrs. Deinum wouldn’t think she was that sick to clean it
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