The Seasons Hereafter Read Online Free Page B

his words seemed to come through a great deal of interference. “You have two weeks’ notice,” he went on. “I wish it could be longer, but I heard about this only yesterday. The heirs conducted the business in Boston,” he said dryly. He stood up. “If I were you I’d waste no time getting settled somewhere else, at least until the new places are ready. It’s not pleasant to see anything old knocked down—a tree, a house, or a man.” He touched her arm lightly. “I’ll let myself out, and you’d better have that coffee.”
    She was humiliated to think that she looked upset. “Oh, I was just thinking of my lodgers,” she said airily. She walked down the hall with him. “They’ll survive, I imagine. They were getting to be a bother, anyway.”
    She said goodbye like a hostess and went back to sit by the kitchen table, her knees drawn up and her body hunched over them as if to shelter a deep pain. She tried to think, but she could not. Wherever she looked she saw something to push her mind further into chaos. She was aware of a great formless fury, like a black cloud mass blotting out light and landscape, directed against the company of destroyers and murderers. Distantly she heard someone rap at the kitchen door. She didn’t move, and heard footsteps going away, and a mutter of voices; Brenda going to work had just encountered Mooney on the way out, and they would walk up Water Street together, unaware.
    She was still sitting there when Barry came in. He stood by the table looking down at her. “You sick?” he said finally.
    â€œCramps.”
    â€œOh.” He waited, and she gazed at his rubber boots. Now she felt neither kindness nor hatred for him. After a moment of silence he said politely, “Well, I don’t like to bother you when you don’t feel good, but I’m going out to Bennett’s Island on the mail boat tomorrow. If you want to come along with me or on the next boat, I’ll be pleased to have you. If you don’t want to, I’m going anyway.”
    â€œAll right,” she murmured. The boots moved away from the table toward the sink, and she knew by the sounds that he was stripping to the waist to wash and shave. This calm and positive Barry wasn’t the man she’d expected home, but by now she was too numb to be affronted. Let him go, she thought, let him go, and for an instant she was dazzled by the old vision of all the hours in the day completely hers. Then she remembered that the house was dying, and she had nowhere to go. She stared at Barry’s back as he leaned over the sink, splashing cold water onto his skin. She wouldn’t even have the rents now. She swallowed and swallowed, trying to raise enough saliva to wet her throat, so that her voice would not creak rustily.
    â€œI’ve been thinking all night, Barry. I think I’d like to go out there.” Any faint quaver could have been caused by the cramps.
    He stopped splashing and was motionless, still bent over the sink. “Change comes to all of us,” she said. “Sometimes it’s good for us, and necessary.” Her long mouth twisted. “I’ve got lazy, that’s all.”
    He straightened up, reaching for the towel, and dried his head. His face was flushed and happy. “You won’t be sorry, Van, I promise you! Kee-rist! I haven’t been this happy since I was ten years old and got my first skiff!”
    And you look about ten, she thought in contempt. She shut her eyes and he said penitently, “Hey, I forgot about your guts-ache. I’ll fix you a good hot cup of tea. Want something in it? Mooney’s always got a bottle—”
    â€œHe’s gone out. No tea, Barry, thanks. I guess I’ll go lie down a while and plan out what I have to do.”

CHAPTER 5
    S he was relieved because the house was the last one around on the far side of the harbor, with a high