That Wild Berries Should Grow Read Online Free Page B

way libraries smell. If you just smell one book, it doesn’t smell like that, but when you get a whole lot of books together in one room it’s a papery, leathery, inky smell. The older the books, the better the smell. In the Greenbush library the books are so old that some of them have rubber bands around them to keep in the pages. In the back of the books, where people have signed them out, the handwriting is spidery and faded. Their names are different than ours. Girls were called Abigail and Sophia and Matilda. Boys were called Theodore and Amos and Joshua. I love the sound of the names and say them over to myself.
    The library in Greenbush is different from the library in the city. In the city you know you couldn’t read all the books in a million years. In Greenbush if you lived in the town all the time you would be able to read up one shelf and down the next. You could finish all the books in the library in a couple of years.
    I took out Eight Cousins because I had only read if three times and The Princess and the Goblin because I had forgotten some parts in it and Little Women because I always take that out. When I got the books home, Grandpapa picked up each book and turned it over in his hand. “Yah, that’s a good one,” he said, although I was sure he had no idea what the book was about.
    Grandmama just shook her head. “Sit and read all day and nothing gets done. A waste of time.” But she gave me some cookies to eat under the apple tree.
    I had just opened my book when out of the corner of my eye I caught a quick movement. It was a chipmunk. It crept close and sat up staring at me. I tossed it a piece of cookie. That scared it away, but in a minute it was back eating the crumb. I kept tossing the pieces closer and closer to me. The chipmunk crept up to me. He rested one paw on my hand while he nibbled the last piece of cookie. He was so busy eating he let me run a finger down his back. The fur was soft and warm. The bones were so delicate I was almost afraid to touch him. I stopped thinking all wild animals were ferocious.

The Rat
    High
    above the altar
    of the country church ,
    God shines in the window
    disguised as a dazzle of sun .
    On this rainy Sunday
    the window is dark .
    A lie has crept
    into my life
    like a
    long-
    tailed
    rat
    and
    nibbled
    away
    the
    shimmer .
    I wanted to go home. Back to the city. I missed my mother and father. I missed my aunts and uncles. I’d rather play with Lucille Macken than with a chipmunk. So one day while my grandparents were out weeding the vegetable garden I sneaked a sheet of paper and an envelope. I wrote a letter to my parents.
    Dear Mom and Dad,
    I hate it here. It’s all vegetables and fruit and my grandparents are too old and there’s no one for me to play with and there aren’t enough books in the library and the lake won’t go away. Come and get me before I die of boredom.
    Your loving daughter,
    Elsa
    Here’s the worst thing. I had spent all the money my mother had given me, and I didn’t want to ask my grandparents for money. I would have had to explain why I wanted it, and I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. So I stole a nickel from Grandmama’s purse for a stamp. When I walked into town to mail the letter I felt like a policeman was following me. I told myself that no one would ever know, but I didn’t believe me.
    On Sunday, as they always do, my grandparents got all dressed up for church. Grandpapa lifted away the long board that kept the garage door shut. He backed out his old Packard. He drove us very slowly the three blocks to the Lutheran church. We could have walked faster than Grandpapa drove. His hands were so tight on the wheel and he was staring so hard at the road that you would have thought we were going a hundred miles an hour.
    I sat next to Grandpapa. Grandmama sat in the back seat, very straight, with her head held up like a queen. She even waved at some people on the