Read Online Willow Run by Patricia Reilly Giff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Reilly Giff
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
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his head. “Europe in ruins. Monte Cassino, that beautiful cathedral, hundreds of years old, gone. You know, Meggie, it's all because peoplehaven't learned to get along with each other. Jews gone because they were Jews. Old people because they were old.”
I felt my breath catch. Grandpa was old. “Grandpa would love this,” I said.
“I thought that, too, the other day, when I saw it for the first time.” Dad tilted his head. “I don't know why, but I keep thinking about that summer we went to the Catskill Mountains. August. The days were warm, but we could feel the beginning of fall in the air.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Grandpa snoring in the room next to us, and Eddie and I laughing. Mom shushing us, one finger to her lips, and then bursting out in a laugh so loud that Grandpa woke with a snort.
“Eddie and I slept on cots,” I began, but Dad was talking about something else now.
“If only my eyes were better. If only I could have gone.”
I moved closer to him, so glad he was there with me and not somewhere in Europe with Eddie.
“We have to keep thinking of places like this,” he said. “Things growing, reaching for the sky, instead of being torn down.”
It made me think of Grandpa bending over, turning the soil over or patting the plants.
Grandpa.
“What about Grandpa?” I said. “How will he find out about Eddie?”
“Mom asked me to call him long-distance from the post office. I did that, an hour ago.”
“What did he say?”
Dad held up his hand. I could see his mouth trembling.
Then he shook his head. “If only he were here with us. Mom would have …” He stopped.
If only.
Sometimes, coming home from fishing, late for dinner, Grandpa and I would cross the boulevard, dodging a car or two. I'd hold the tackle box over my arm, the handles making red marks in my skin. Grandpa would slap one hand on top of his head to hold on his cap, and grab my free hand with the other, and we'd run. Mom, seeing us come down the gravel path, would begin to laugh.
Dad was right. He would cheer Mom up in two seconds. He'd tell us how good Eddie was at finding places, tell us about that time when Eddie and I took the wrong path in the Catskills, and Eddie yodeled so someone would find us. Grandpa always laughed about that, too.
Back at the corner I nearly fell over Harlan, who was lying in the street, face to the sun, eyes closed.
What was the matter with him, anyway?
And then I saw Kennis shooting a gun, those two pieces of wood stuck together with a rubber band.
Playing soldiers.
What good was that?
Harlan opened one eye. Orange ice ringed his mouth as if a volcano had just erupted. “I'm a Nazi,” he said.
I stepped over him and kept going.
“What about Virginia Tooey?” I asked Dad.
Dad shook his head.
Virginia didn't know, then. She must be in her house, writing letters and knitting khaki socks for Eddie.
As we went up the path I could see Mom, still in her robe, standing by the kitchen window, looking out at us.
She raised one hand, and as we went in the door, she was saying, “This is war. Look at this bare earth in front of us, nothing growing.” She held her arms out to Dad. “My child missing.”
I stood there for a moment, wishing I were somewhere else. I picked up Judy and buried my face in her warm fur.
Letter for Lily.
Please go in my living room and get Eddie's picture. Send it right away, even if you have to ask your grandmother for the money. Tell her I'll pay her back when the war is over. I can't remember what Eddie looks like and now he's missing in action, isn't it strange, on a beach. It was on D-day. The telegram didn't come until this morning. He never even got any of the candy.
Margaret
Dear Virginia,
I wanted to tell you that Eddie got lost in France. I know you'd want to know. Eddie thought you were very pretty. He told me that. The prettiest girl he ever saw. He said I might look like you someday.
I hope so.
Listen, I'll let you know when he's
I felt my breath catch. Grandpa was old. “Grandpa would love this,” I said.
“I thought that, too, the other day, when I saw it for the first time.” Dad tilted his head. “I don't know why, but I keep thinking about that summer we went to the Catskill Mountains. August. The days were warm, but we could feel the beginning of fall in the air.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Grandpa snoring in the room next to us, and Eddie and I laughing. Mom shushing us, one finger to her lips, and then bursting out in a laugh so loud that Grandpa woke with a snort.
“Eddie and I slept on cots,” I began, but Dad was talking about something else now.
“If only my eyes were better. If only I could have gone.”
I moved closer to him, so glad he was there with me and not somewhere in Europe with Eddie.
“We have to keep thinking of places like this,” he said. “Things growing, reaching for the sky, instead of being torn down.”
It made me think of Grandpa bending over, turning the soil over or patting the plants.
Grandpa.
“What about Grandpa?” I said. “How will he find out about Eddie?”
“Mom asked me to call him long-distance from the post office. I did that, an hour ago.”
“What did he say?”
Dad held up his hand. I could see his mouth trembling.
Then he shook his head. “If only he were here with us. Mom would have …” He stopped.
If only.
Sometimes, coming home from fishing, late for dinner, Grandpa and I would cross the boulevard, dodging a car or two. I'd hold the tackle box over my arm, the handles making red marks in my skin. Grandpa would slap one hand on top of his head to hold on his cap, and grab my free hand with the other, and we'd run. Mom, seeing us come down the gravel path, would begin to laugh.
Dad was right. He would cheer Mom up in two seconds. He'd tell us how good Eddie was at finding places, tell us about that time when Eddie and I took the wrong path in the Catskills, and Eddie yodeled so someone would find us. Grandpa always laughed about that, too.
Back at the corner I nearly fell over Harlan, who was lying in the street, face to the sun, eyes closed.
What was the matter with him, anyway?
And then I saw Kennis shooting a gun, those two pieces of wood stuck together with a rubber band.
Playing soldiers.
What good was that?
Harlan opened one eye. Orange ice ringed his mouth as if a volcano had just erupted. “I'm a Nazi,” he said.
I stepped over him and kept going.
“What about Virginia Tooey?” I asked Dad.
Dad shook his head.
Virginia didn't know, then. She must be in her house, writing letters and knitting khaki socks for Eddie.
As we went up the path I could see Mom, still in her robe, standing by the kitchen window, looking out at us.
She raised one hand, and as we went in the door, she was saying, “This is war. Look at this bare earth in front of us, nothing growing.” She held her arms out to Dad. “My child missing.”
I stood there for a moment, wishing I were somewhere else. I picked up Judy and buried my face in her warm fur.
Letter for Lily.
Please go in my living room and get Eddie's picture. Send it right away, even if you have to ask your grandmother for the money. Tell her I'll pay her back when the war is over. I can't remember what Eddie looks like and now he's missing in action, isn't it strange, on a beach. It was on D-day. The telegram didn't come until this morning. He never even got any of the candy.
Margaret
Dear Virginia,
I wanted to tell you that Eddie got lost in France. I know you'd want to know. Eddie thought you were very pretty. He told me that. The prettiest girl he ever saw. He said I might look like you someday.
I hope so.
Listen, I'll let you know when he's
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