Journey Read Online Free Page A

see Cat turn with a surprised look, like a deer startled in the garden, as Grandfather took her picture.
    “Watch now, Journey,” Grandma whispered. “That old buzzard is going to take a picture of us.”
    “How do you know?” I whispered back. “He didn’t even look this way.”
    “Oh yes he did. I saw his eyes roll to the side. I am the smartest woman in this room.”
    “Why are we whispering?” I whispered.
    Grandma began to laugh, and she put herarm around me. I smiled, and we both looked out. Suddenly Grandfather whirled and aimed his camera at us in the window.
    “Such a noodle,” said Grandma, laughing as he took our picture. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
    “Grandma?”
    “What?”
    “Why did Mama do it? The pictures?”
    Grandma shrugged.
    “I can’t speak for Liddie. I never could, Journey. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I did.”
    “Then,” I said, “I’ll have to ask her when I see her.”
    Grandma looked at me, a quick look. She reached out to smooth my hair.
    “I hope you get to do that, Journey. I really do.”
    Grandma went to the dresser and picked up her flute.
    “He shouldn’t have told me,” I said suddenly. “Grandfather shouldn’t have told me about the pictures.”
    “But, Journey,” Grandma said softly, “you asked him.” Grandma paused for a moment tolook at the old picture of Mama that leaned against the dresser.
    “Funny, isn’t it, how we are sometimes angry at the wrong person.”
    She gave her head a little shake, as if shaking off a fly, then she went out the door.
    “You,” I whispered to the picture. “I
could
have a sore throat. I
could
have a temperature.”
    I leaned my elbows on the dresser and peered into Mama’s face.
    “Do you hear me?”

Chapter Seven
    And then the cat came. After the rains, when Grandfather and I were silent and uneasy with each other, and the lawn grew too long, and June bugs threw themselves against the lamplit screens, I heard the soft thump as the cat jumped up to my sill. The cat stared at me, its face like a pansy, and then, without claws, it lifted a pawand hit the window screen. The tiniest of sounds. Very carefully I lifted the screen, and the cat walked inside, across my desk, and settled on my bed as if it were home. As if the cat were someone come back in disguise. Almost at once the cat slept.
    Slowly I backed out of the room, racing to the kitchen.
    “Cat?”
    Grandma looked up.
    “Your sister’s not here, Journey. Do you want something?”
    No. I knew how Grandma felt about cats.
    Behind her, Grandfather was standing, leaning against the counter, stirring coffee.
    “No, Grandma, thanks. Good night.”
    “Good night then,” said Grandma, threading a needle in the light.
    I looked at Grandfather, and he looked back at me, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowed against the steam. He turned his head to one side, as if he were getting a different view of me. I lifted my shoulders, took a breath, and beckoned to him, putting a finger to my lips. Hiseyebrows rose. After a moment he put down his coffee, silently following me down the hallway to my room.
    “What is it?” he said at my bedroom door.
    “Look,” I whispered, pulling his arm. I pointed.
    “Oh, my,” whispered Grandfather. He smiled. “Look at that, ail tuckered out.”
    Slowly he walked to the bed. The cat stretched, looked up at him, then curled up again.
    “Whose cat is it?” asked Grandfather.
    I was silent.
    Grandfather quickly looked down at me.
    “Journey,” he warned, “no. You know your grandma is not fond of cats. She loves her birds.”
    “I love this cat,” I said. “He tapped on my window screen. I think he’s mine.”
    “Do not,” said Grandfather, whispering fiercely, “do not name this cat.”
    I knew the family rule. Do not name an animal or you’ll have to take care of it. If you name it, it’s yours.
    “He tapped on my screen and walked right inand went to sleep,” I went on, “just like he