Read Online The Turning by Francine Prose - Free Book Online Page B

nice time and don’t feel too isolated on the island. As you know, I was really angry at my dad for asking his friend Jim Crackstone to get you that job and pay you all that money just so my father would have a clever way to keep us apart for the summer.
    I never liked Jim Crackstone. But you already know that. Anyhow, the kids you’re taking care of sound interesting, and you’ll probably be really good for them. They’ll be less lonely with you there. Just like I would be less lonely if you were here. Which you’re not. I keep telling myself that the weeks will go by quickly, and you’ll come back with all that money, so we can go to the same college. That’s what we need to remember whenever we miss each other. Which is all the time, right?
    That story about the seagull screaming at you on the ferry was so scary! I couldn’t sleep the night after I read it. And that blind couple on the boat, and that woman crying on deck … I wonder if the island is really haunted, like people say. Well, I guess you’ll find out. And that’s got to be more interesting compared to what I’m doing here, working in the boring town public library, where they don’t even really need me, but they’re doing my dad a favor because he gives the library money. At least I get to hang out with our friends after work and on weekends, though all the things you and I used to do—the beach parties and picnics and stuff—will just seem dull without you.
    I wish I had more to tell you, but unlike you, I’m having a totally uneventful summer. Write to me soon. Have a good time but not such a good time that you forget me.
    Love,
    Sophie
    DEAR SOPHIE,
    I was so happy to hear from you! Please write me again, right away, and tell me more about every little thing you’re doing. Maybe it seems boring to you, but I’m sure your summer must be exciting compared to what I’m doing here. Unless you count seeing ghosts.
    I decided not to mention my little … hallucination to Linda and the kids. Linda still doesn’t know me that well, and it won’t make her all that comfortable to think that the children’s new companion is a guy who imagines strange men peering in the library window.
    When Linda got back from taking Flora to the dentist, the children went to their rooms. Linda said they were tired from the trip and wanted to take a nap before dinner. She asked me if everything had been okay in her absence, and I said I’d enjoyed having all that time and privacy to roam around and explore. I told her I’d spent a lot of the day reading in the library.
    When I mentioned that Hank seemed disappointed that she wasn’t there and that he’d said to be sure to tell her he’d see her next week, Linda smiled to herself. Maybe I was right about there being something between them.
    Linda told me she’d gone by the post office and picked up the mail, which otherwise wouldn’t have come on the ferry till later in the week. She smiled again as she said that one of the letters was for me, and she kept smiling as I ripped the envelope open and stood right there in the kitchen reading your letter over and over.
    After a while, Linda said, “Don’t you want to know how Flora is?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I got distracted. What happened at the dentist?”
    “Don’t worry,” said Linda. “I still remember what young love is like.”
    It’s always a little embarrassing when grown-ups talk that way, but somehow it was less creepy coming from Linda. I thought of the poetry book I’d found in my room, and I wondered if it had been a present from Linda’s husband.
    “Anyhow,” Linda was saying, “Flora’s fine. She’s still a little spacey from the anesthetic. Dr. Jacobs had to pull an impacted baby tooth.”
    “Poor Flora!” I said.
    “She was a brave little soldier,” said Linda. “I’m making soft foods for dinner. Mashed potatoes for Flora and some kind of veal stew for Miles and you and me. Flora can have gravy on her