Jacob Have I Loved Read Online Free Page A

that even the smooth baritone of the announcer’s voice could not conceal. Caroline’s eyes went wide, and, as we listened, she did something she had never done before. She took my hand. We stood there, squeezing each other’s hand to the point of pain.
    That is how our parents found us. There was no remonstrance for having broken the Fourth Commandment. The crime of the Japanese erased all lesser sinning. The four of us huddled together before the radio set. It was one of those pointed ones that remind you of a brown wood church, with long oval windows over a cloth-covered speaker.
    At six, Grandma woke, hungry and petulant. No one had given any thought to food. How could one think of supper when the world had just gone up in flames? Finally, my mother went to the kitchen and made plates of cold meat and leftover potato salad, which she brought to the three of us hunched about the set. She even brought coffee for us all. Grandma insisted on being served properly at the table. Caroline and I had never drunk coffee in our lives, and the fact that our mother served us coffee that night made us both realize that our secure, ordinary world was forever in the past.
    Just as I was about to take my first solemn sip, the announcer said, “We pause, now, for station identification.” I nearly choked. The world had indeed gone mad.
    Within a few days we learned that Mr. Rice had volunteered for the army and would be leaving forthe war soon after Christmas. In chorus one morning the irony of celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace suddenly seemed too much. I raised my hand.
    â€œYes, Louise?”
    â€œMr. Rice,” I said, standing and dramatically darkening my voice to what I imagined to be the proper tone for mourning, “Mr. Rice, I have a proposal to make.” There were a few snickers at my choice of words, but I ignored them. “I feel, sir, that under the circumstances, we should cancel Christmas.”
    Mr. Rice’s right eyebrow shot up. “Do you want to explain that, Louise?”
    â€œHow,” I asked, my glance sweeping about to catch the amused looks of the others, “how dare we celebrate while around the world thousands are suffering and dying?” Caroline was staring down at her desk, her cheeks red.
    Mr. Rice cleared his throat. “Thousands were suffering and dying when Christ was born, Louise.” He was clearly discomfited by my behavior. I was sorry now that I had begun but was in too deeply to retreat.
    â€œYes,” I agreed grandly. “But the world has notseen, neither has it heard, such a tragic turn of events as we face in this our time.”
    Tiny little one-syllable explosions went off about the room like a string of Chinese firecrackers. Mr. Rice looked stern.
    My face was burning. I’m not sure whether I was more embarrassed by the sound of my own voice or the snorts of my schoolmates. I sat down, my whole body aflame. The snorts broke into open laughter. Mr. Rice tapped his baton on his music stand to restore order. I thought he might try to explain what I had meant, would try in some way to mediate for me, but he said only, “Now then, let’s try it once more from the beginning—”
    â€œGod rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,” sang everyone except me. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I might let go the enormous sob that was lurking there, right at the top of my throat.
    It was nearly dark when school got out that afternoon. I rushed out before anyone could catch up with me and walked, not home, but across the length of the marsh on the one high path to the very southern tip of the island. The mud had a frozen brown crust and the cordgrass was weighed down by ice. The wind cut mercilessly across the barren endof Rass, but the hot shame and indignation inside me made me forget the wind as I walked. I was right. I knew I was right, so why had they all laughed? And why had Mr. Rice let them? He