Read Online Up From the Blue by Susan Henderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Henderson
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coordinate.” When I started to shiver all over, she paused. “Oh, Tillie, I know you’re disappointed.”
And she was, too. I could see, every day, that she wanted her house back. She wanted the towel off the couch, wanted to watch her regular shows on TV without my impatient groans, wanted to have back whatever her life had been before I’d landed in the middle of it. When I eavesdropped on calls, hoping to hear news from home, I learned of the friends she wanted to see, of the work she promised to catch up on “as soon as she’s gone.”
She did try to make my stay more bearable—cutting sandwiches into triangles, adding bubbles to my baths, and offering to fix my hair. At night, she tried to pull the covers over my shoulders, but I pulled them back off and turned over. Anne was not what I wanted.
5
Things Beginning with the Letter D
I SAT ON THE TOWEL, bored and uncomfortable, listening to the rain and shifting from one position to another. “Well, there’s a fine young lady,” Anne said when I’d stopped moving.
Horrified, I noticed in all my squirming I’d settled on a completely prissy and accidental pose—legs crossed, hands folded in my lap. I groaned, flopping onto my stomach.
“Feet off the couch, please.”
Two weeks was longer than I’d ever imagined. I moved my feet to the side but stayed facedown until Anne tapped my shoulder. “I know it’s pouring outside,” she said, “but we need to go to the store. I’ve run out of tea, and we could do with some more fresh fruit.”
When she opened the door, the rain came into the house. “We’ll have to really run,” she said, giggling, as if there were something hilarious or daring about getting wet. She darted out to the car, and with a scowl on my face, I grabbed my book andsauntered after her, letting the rain soak my scalp and run down the sides of my face.
“Shall I go get you a towel?” she asked after I got in.
I didn’t answer, just closed the door and leaned against it.
“You must be freezing,” she said, looking at me in my shorts and crocheted poncho. “Are you sure you don’t want to dress in long pants or borrow a windbreaker?
My answer was to carefully turn a wet page of my book so it wouldn’t tear.
She gave a frustrated sigh and stepped on the gas. The storm clouds made the car dark for reading, but I practically knew the best pages by heart. I’d chosen my favorite dogs (the field spaniel and the wirehaired pointing griffon) and learned to be interested in many things beginning with the letter D—Darwin, deadly nightshade, Delhi, digestive system, Dionysus, Dracula, dulcimer, and dysentery.
The wipers swished mud back and forth on the windshield, and now and then Anne rubbed the fog off the window with her sleeve. By the time we pulled in front of the grocery store, the packed dirt that served as a parking lot was like a shallow lake. When I stepped out of the car, my poncho blew straight out to one side.
“Well, there’s Anne’s little buddy,” the storekeeper said when we walked in together.
“I told her it’s an awfully chilly day for shorts,” Anne said. “But she’s a stubborn one.”
“Takes one to know one,” the storekeeper said, laughing. “Come on, dear. You come with me.”
I walked behind her, trying not to step on her heels.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said.
I shrugged.
She handed me a store apron. “Here. Put this on. You can help me work while Anne shops.”
I slipped it over my head, and it fell to my ankles.
“Follow me,” she said. “Just do whatever I do.”
And I followed her walk exactly, and stopped when she stopped. She smiled, standing near the cash register, and pointed to the bagging area, where I was to stand.
“On a day like today, it’s going to be a lot of standing around,” she said.
I laughed and tried to stand professionally as she did, hands on hips, chest out like a bird, listening to the piped-in music and the squeak of
And she was, too. I could see, every day, that she wanted her house back. She wanted the towel off the couch, wanted to watch her regular shows on TV without my impatient groans, wanted to have back whatever her life had been before I’d landed in the middle of it. When I eavesdropped on calls, hoping to hear news from home, I learned of the friends she wanted to see, of the work she promised to catch up on “as soon as she’s gone.”
She did try to make my stay more bearable—cutting sandwiches into triangles, adding bubbles to my baths, and offering to fix my hair. At night, she tried to pull the covers over my shoulders, but I pulled them back off and turned over. Anne was not what I wanted.
5
Things Beginning with the Letter D
I SAT ON THE TOWEL, bored and uncomfortable, listening to the rain and shifting from one position to another. “Well, there’s a fine young lady,” Anne said when I’d stopped moving.
Horrified, I noticed in all my squirming I’d settled on a completely prissy and accidental pose—legs crossed, hands folded in my lap. I groaned, flopping onto my stomach.
“Feet off the couch, please.”
Two weeks was longer than I’d ever imagined. I moved my feet to the side but stayed facedown until Anne tapped my shoulder. “I know it’s pouring outside,” she said, “but we need to go to the store. I’ve run out of tea, and we could do with some more fresh fruit.”
When she opened the door, the rain came into the house. “We’ll have to really run,” she said, giggling, as if there were something hilarious or daring about getting wet. She darted out to the car, and with a scowl on my face, I grabbed my book andsauntered after her, letting the rain soak my scalp and run down the sides of my face.
“Shall I go get you a towel?” she asked after I got in.
I didn’t answer, just closed the door and leaned against it.
“You must be freezing,” she said, looking at me in my shorts and crocheted poncho. “Are you sure you don’t want to dress in long pants or borrow a windbreaker?
My answer was to carefully turn a wet page of my book so it wouldn’t tear.
She gave a frustrated sigh and stepped on the gas. The storm clouds made the car dark for reading, but I practically knew the best pages by heart. I’d chosen my favorite dogs (the field spaniel and the wirehaired pointing griffon) and learned to be interested in many things beginning with the letter D—Darwin, deadly nightshade, Delhi, digestive system, Dionysus, Dracula, dulcimer, and dysentery.
The wipers swished mud back and forth on the windshield, and now and then Anne rubbed the fog off the window with her sleeve. By the time we pulled in front of the grocery store, the packed dirt that served as a parking lot was like a shallow lake. When I stepped out of the car, my poncho blew straight out to one side.
“Well, there’s Anne’s little buddy,” the storekeeper said when we walked in together.
“I told her it’s an awfully chilly day for shorts,” Anne said. “But she’s a stubborn one.”
“Takes one to know one,” the storekeeper said, laughing. “Come on, dear. You come with me.”
I walked behind her, trying not to step on her heels.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said.
I shrugged.
She handed me a store apron. “Here. Put this on. You can help me work while Anne shops.”
I slipped it over my head, and it fell to my ankles.
“Follow me,” she said. “Just do whatever I do.”
And I followed her walk exactly, and stopped when she stopped. She smiled, standing near the cash register, and pointed to the bagging area, where I was to stand.
“On a day like today, it’s going to be a lot of standing around,” she said.
I laughed and tried to stand professionally as she did, hands on hips, chest out like a bird, listening to the piped-in music and the squeak of
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