Read Online The House on Malcolm Street by Leisha Kelly - Free Book Online Page A

apologize. “She’s ready for first grade, but I – I didn’t want to begin the year there just to uproot her. I thought it would be better to wait until I knew we were settled somewhere.”
    “There’s a good school here,” Marigold said between bites of a biscuit. “And only three blocks, when you feel you’re ready.”
    I didn’t. I was far from certain we were “settled” in the long term. And though I expected Eliza to be excited with the idea of school, she seemed wary and glad I didn’t push the issue immediately. “Maybe when things aren’t so completely new,” I said. “We’re barely off the train.”
    “I realize that,” Marigold admonished. “But the sooner a routine is established, the better.”
    “I’ll visit the school,” I decided. “And talk to them. Soon. Just – just not today.”
    “Good enough. A child this bright ought to have an outlet for all that brilliance.”
    Eliza didn’t smile or say a word. I don’t think she knew how to respond, so she just sat watching me and buttered another biscuit.
    “Um – Aunt Marigold. About my orchard work – you said – ”
    “Oh, I didn’t mean I was going to farm you out or anything like that,” she chuckled. “I only meant I need your help if you will. Looks like we’re gonna have fruit to beat the band, and it’s more than I can handle by myself.”
    “What kind?”
    “Apple and pear. One tree of each. And if I don’t get some picked, the squirrels are going to wreak havoc. Already they’re knocking down aplenty, in addition to what’s been dropping off the tree on its own. But I’d just as soon have some fruit not so bruised and pecked upon. I hate to ask Josiah, as late as he’s been getting in. And I just can’t do it myself.”
    “We’re gonna pick apples?” Eliza brightened. “And pears? Can we really? Can I climb right up in the tree?”
    “I couldn’t say about that,” Marigold warned. “It’ll have to be your mother’s decision whether she wants you clamberin’ through limbs and branches up off the ground. But I can find a job for you one way or another.”
    Eliza was so excited she could scarcely finish her biscuit. And I thought of my father, how I’d loved climbing in his trees, and how he’d scolded me for it time and again. Not because he was afraid I’d fall; he was more bothered that I might knock down his fruit, even when I was carefully picking.
    “So did he sell the fruit commercially?” Marigold asked me.
    I looked up, only half sure of what she’d said. “What?”
    “Did your father sell the fruit himself?”
    “Oh. He sold some to the local market and a peddler he knew. But he also traded a good bit of it for other goods.” I didn’t tell her what goods. I didn’t want her asking more questions, requiring me to talk about him.
    “Was that near St. Louis?”
    “About forty miles south.”
    “Are your parents still living?”
    My breath caught in my throat. If I told her the truth, would she question why I’d come here instead of to my father’s farm? Yet how could I be deliberately untruthful? It wouldn’t be right, even for my comfort’s sake. “Mother died a couple of years ago,” I said with a sigh. “But Father is still living.”
    “Is he well?”
    “Yes, the last I knew.”
    She looked at me rather oddly and I knew she had more questions, but she didn’t ask them then. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
    “Yes, ma’am. But I can get it.” I jumped to my feet so she wouldn’t have to. “Would you like me to pour you one as well?”
    “Yes, please. And you may as well pour a glass of milk for your little Rose.”
    There it was again, her using Eliza’s middle instead of her first name. I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Maybe she thought the flower name should have come first. But I didn’t say anything. Just poured her coffee and then proceeded to get Eliza’s drink and my own.
    Marigold and Eliza were both nearly done eating. I didn’t have