Read Online That Camden Summer by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lavyrle Spencer
Tags: Fiction
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for?"
"I don't know. Because I've got to go back there tomorrow and face her again, I suppose." "Well, hell ... maybe she won't be there if
the house is that bad. Maybe she'll decide to live someplace else."
"Oh, she'll be there all right. Probably be sitting there playing her piano and singing her head off in the middle of all that filth. I tell you, Seth, it was the damndest thing you ever saw. I went back there after we helped unload all the drays, and there she sat, playing the piano as if there weren't a thing out of place. And her kids were singing upstairs! You'd have thought they were living in the Taj Mahal. But you know what? They're a happy bunch. And one of those little girls, the youngest one? Well, I want to tell you, that one's got a head on her shoulders. Nearly talked my head off. And language! Whew, I've read newspaper publishers
that didn't use language that fancy. You know what she said? She said that she and her sisters wrote an opera. In Latin, mind you!"
Seth stopped working and gazed over in wonder. "How old you say this girl was?" "Ten. 11
"Ten. Feature that." "Ayup, ten. "
They thought for a while, imagining themselves at ten.
Seth said, "Hell, I could barely wipe my ass by the time I was ten."
Gabriel laughed.
"I seem to remember that. Sometimes I had to wipe! it for you." It was nearly true. Gabe was four years older than Seth, and his mother had often relied on him to be her helping hand.
Gabe's thoughts returned to the precocious Lydia. "How do you suppose a girl gets that smart by the time she's ten?"
"I don't know."
"The way she talked, her mother teaches them a lot. "
"That'd be the ... ah the woman with the tacky hair and clothes."
Gabriel bent a wry glance at his brother. "What're you gettin' at, Farley?"
"This's the most you've talked about any woman since Caroline died, you know that?" Gabe gave out a throaty sound, neither grunt
nor chuckle. "You're demented, man. I told you, she's got a tongue that could fillet a flounder at six paces, and she's not any too ladylike."
"Let me get a look at her first, then I'll tell
you whether I'm demented. You'rT.-'the one who said you went sniffing after her 'cAise you heard she was divorced."
"Well, maybe I did, but she's about as lovable as a water moccasin, so don't go spreading any rumors, you got me?"
"Yessir!" Seth squelched a grin. "Gotcha!"
The rain let up toward evening. Gabriel stowed his wooden tool caddy in the back of his Ford C-Cab, got in, set the spark on retard and went through four more steps before getting out to crank the truck. It coughed to life, and he lifted a hand in farewell as he got back in.
Going through all that rigmarole to start the truck brought the woman back to mind. She'd said she intended to buy a motorcar. Now that was just plain silly. First thing she'd do was break her arm trying to start it. And how could she remember everything she needed to know before she even gripped the crank?
Besides, what would people say? Ladies just didn't do things like that.
But then, in spite of how she protested, he guessed she was no lady.
Why in tarnation was he even wasting time thinking about her?
He'd think of something else.
It was a gol-darned pretty evening. Off behind Ragged Mountain the sky was clearing: You could tell by the peachy glow that lit its rim, though above it the clouds were still streaky
gray-green like an old lobster's back. But they were in motion, lifting, dissolving in advance of a clear day tomorrow.
He took Chestnut down into town, then swung over to Bayview where his shop was sandwiched between the street and the rocky shore. He left the truck running on the street while he went inside. The doors were locked but Terrence, their clerk, had left some notes tacked to the wall beside the wooden telephone box: Mrs. Harvey had come in and was wondering how much they'd charge to replace a broken chair rung; the minister from the Congregational Church would like to speak to him
"I don't know. Because I've got to go back there tomorrow and face her again, I suppose." "Well, hell ... maybe she won't be there if
the house is that bad. Maybe she'll decide to live someplace else."
"Oh, she'll be there all right. Probably be sitting there playing her piano and singing her head off in the middle of all that filth. I tell you, Seth, it was the damndest thing you ever saw. I went back there after we helped unload all the drays, and there she sat, playing the piano as if there weren't a thing out of place. And her kids were singing upstairs! You'd have thought they were living in the Taj Mahal. But you know what? They're a happy bunch. And one of those little girls, the youngest one? Well, I want to tell you, that one's got a head on her shoulders. Nearly talked my head off. And language! Whew, I've read newspaper publishers
that didn't use language that fancy. You know what she said? She said that she and her sisters wrote an opera. In Latin, mind you!"
Seth stopped working and gazed over in wonder. "How old you say this girl was?" "Ten. 11
"Ten. Feature that." "Ayup, ten. "
They thought for a while, imagining themselves at ten.
Seth said, "Hell, I could barely wipe my ass by the time I was ten."
Gabriel laughed.
"I seem to remember that. Sometimes I had to wipe! it for you." It was nearly true. Gabe was four years older than Seth, and his mother had often relied on him to be her helping hand.
Gabe's thoughts returned to the precocious Lydia. "How do you suppose a girl gets that smart by the time she's ten?"
"I don't know."
"The way she talked, her mother teaches them a lot. "
"That'd be the ... ah the woman with the tacky hair and clothes."
Gabriel bent a wry glance at his brother. "What're you gettin' at, Farley?"
"This's the most you've talked about any woman since Caroline died, you know that?" Gabe gave out a throaty sound, neither grunt
nor chuckle. "You're demented, man. I told you, she's got a tongue that could fillet a flounder at six paces, and she's not any too ladylike."
"Let me get a look at her first, then I'll tell
you whether I'm demented. You'rT.-'the one who said you went sniffing after her 'cAise you heard she was divorced."
"Well, maybe I did, but she's about as lovable as a water moccasin, so don't go spreading any rumors, you got me?"
"Yessir!" Seth squelched a grin. "Gotcha!"
The rain let up toward evening. Gabriel stowed his wooden tool caddy in the back of his Ford C-Cab, got in, set the spark on retard and went through four more steps before getting out to crank the truck. It coughed to life, and he lifted a hand in farewell as he got back in.
Going through all that rigmarole to start the truck brought the woman back to mind. She'd said she intended to buy a motorcar. Now that was just plain silly. First thing she'd do was break her arm trying to start it. And how could she remember everything she needed to know before she even gripped the crank?
Besides, what would people say? Ladies just didn't do things like that.
But then, in spite of how she protested, he guessed she was no lady.
Why in tarnation was he even wasting time thinking about her?
He'd think of something else.
It was a gol-darned pretty evening. Off behind Ragged Mountain the sky was clearing: You could tell by the peachy glow that lit its rim, though above it the clouds were still streaky
gray-green like an old lobster's back. But they were in motion, lifting, dissolving in advance of a clear day tomorrow.
He took Chestnut down into town, then swung over to Bayview where his shop was sandwiched between the street and the rocky shore. He left the truck running on the street while he went inside. The doors were locked but Terrence, their clerk, had left some notes tacked to the wall beside the wooden telephone box: Mrs. Harvey had come in and was wondering how much they'd charge to replace a broken chair rung; the minister from the Congregational Church would like to speak to him
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