One Heart Read Online Free Page B

new counselors is standing out there on the shady step.
    â€œDoes Gladys Pittman live here?” she says.
    â€œCertainly does,” I say.
    â€œI’m a girl who used to write her letters.”
    â€œOh. You are?”
    I was so surprised. And then in the very next instant I weren’t surprised at all. That happens sometimes, one moment is so strange you feel you’re dreaming, then something shifts and you feel “of course. It makes sense.” Like you were expecting it.
    â€œI’m her sister,” I told the girl, and she says, “Ivy, right?”
    So Gladys must’ve mentioned me at least once.
    â€œThat’s right,” I say. “I’m Ivy, now come on in for a soda pop.”
    She was a pretty little thing, but not real healthy looking, with dark circles under big eyes, pale skin, long curly brown hair, and nervous to the point you want to send her up to Doctor Wichert for a Valium. She had on a big T-shirt with some rock stars on it, the sleeves cut off near her shoulder and near the one shoulder a blue angel tattoo I hoped was a rub-on. Even though it was chilly, she wore a pair of blue jean fringy shorts like they all wear in summer, with her long legs scratched up from the woods and then these little pink Chinese slippers on her feet when most of the girls wore sturdy sneakers or hiking boots. Also she wore baby pink socks to match. On her big-eyed face was some eyeliner and a little blue shadow, and it just made her look younger and paler.
    I gave her a soda pop and sat at the table with her thinking Gladys was going to walk in any second. She was only out back on the stoop drinking ice water. We were on break between lunch and dinner. Gladys liked to sit out there alone in the shade on the cool cement steps. She’d pull on an old sweater. Usually she read a book, and maybe had an afternoon highball. I’d see her look up from her book and into the spring light for a second. In the distance we still had snow on the mountains. She’d squint at that bright white. Then it was back to the book.
    Raelene was not easy to talk to that day. She was polite, but not easy, not cheerful, and it was like she was afraid to say, “Where’s Gladys?” Like she was worried I was going to tell her, “Gladys is dead.”
    So I hear the door opening and we both look toward it and Gladys is stepping inside still in her uniform and she’s put her head under the garden hose, so her hair is plastered down. She had her wire-frame glasses on, but she still squinted at Raelene. She weren’t at all used to having visitors.
    â€œWho’s this?” she said, and walked to the sink. She filled her glass with water, her back to us, and Raelene looked right down at her own long folded fingers.
    â€œIt’s Raelene,” I said. “The girl who wrote you all those years. The little girl who prayed for Wendell.” I remember saying Wendell because I think it was the first time his name got said in that house in seven years. At the sound of it I could feel Gladys stiffen over there at the sink.
    Raelene’s dark eyes were even bigger now and she looked at Gladys and said, “I’m just starting to work at the camp now, so thought I’d say hello. It’s been a while.”
    The poor girl’s face was red now, and she was smiling right through her embarrassment. And she had her chin lifted, she was a proud girl, she weren’t about to sit there and let the embarrassment win, not Raelene.
    Gladys slowly turned around, then said, “Well hello.” I think Gladys almost smiled. It seemed like I could hear Raelene’s heart pounding behind the rock stars on the little cage of her chest.
    A silence falls, and I’m coughing to fill it. I’m the one always taking care of awkwardness.
    Raelene said, “The lakes are real pretty around here.”
    Gladys said, “Sure are, if you like lakes.”
    Finally Gladys sat