The Sisters Read Online Free

are you doing? Bertie had called to them from her heart, the words stopping in her throat. What are you doing ? A firm pair of hands—she never knew whose—settled on her shoulders to urge her back onto the walk and out of the street.
    “Bertie, what are you doing?” Irma’s whisper stung her ear. “They’ve called your name.” Irma pushed her forward, nudged her up the steps and across the stage, then grabbed her elbow to keep her from turning in the wrong direction as they stepped back onto the floor.
    When the ceremony was over, Bertie let Irma lead her to the church hall with the rest of the graduates. She wandered through the buffet line, spooning food onto her plate, but after a few minutes she left it untouched on the corner table where she’d gone to be out of everyone else’s way.
    The church bell was just chiming five when she pushed past the Anderson clan, who were celebrating the graduation of their twin sons. She was nearly to the door when she heard her name called out over the Andersons’ laughing chatter. “Bertie! Bertie, wait!” She turned toward the young man’s voice. Wallace had come. She was sure it was Wallace. When he found his way through the crowd to clasp her hands, she would scold him—just a little, not too much—for being late. “Bertie!” she heard again.
    It wasn’t Wallace at all. She could see Henry Layman trying to get to her. He was waving something over his head—a piece of paper, maybe—and calling out for her to stay put for a minute.
    So Henry had been sent as messenger again. It was a dirty trick. Yellow, it was. If Wallace wanted to tell her something, if he was going to tell her he liked Mabel better, then he could do it to her face. And Bertie would see to it Mabel looked her in the eye, too. She wasn’t about to listen to any made-up excuses they’d fed to poor Henry.
    Bertie shook her head at Henry, still struggling his way through the crowd. She turned on her heel and went out the door.
    There wasn’t a soul on the street, just a couple of dogs tumbling in play on the parsonage lawn. The sun, so bright this morning, had faded behind heavy ash-colored clouds and the air simmered with the feeling of coming rain.
    She’d give anything to think of somewhere to go besides back to the house, but she wanted out of this ridiculous dress and out of everyone’s sight. Pretty soon, it would be all around town about Mabel and Wallace—off somewhere together on Bertie’s special day, laughing at her.
    Would it be possible, if she worked, to live on her own? She was pretty sure Butcher wouldn’t make a fuss, even about losing a hand around the place, and she didn’t care if Mabel did. She’d heard Nellie Perkins was looking for a girl for the boardinghouse to do some scrubbing and to help the cook. If she could get her room and board for the main part of her pay, then she wouldn’t need but a few dollars a month for other things. She wouldn’t even have to wait for morning. If she hurried back, she could get changed into a clean housedress and get everything settled with Mrs. Perkins before dark.
    In spite of the blister rubbing at the back of her right heel, Bertie picked up her walk to a trot and then to a full run as she approached the corner where, for months, Wallace had said good-bye with a kiss. When she turned onto her road, dusty from too little spring rain, she stopped in front of the Mitchell place to catch her breath and pinched at the damp chiffon to shake it away from her body.
    “Bertie, come on in here.” Mrs. Mitchell was standing on her porch, wiping her hands on her apron.
    “I’m just going home, ma’am,” Bertie said, starting on her way again.
    Mrs. Mitchell rushed down the steps and out to the gate. Everything about her was atremble, even her red-rimmed eyes. She fumbled with the latch. “No, honey, please,” she said, reaching over the gate, trying to grab Bertie’s wrist. “You come in and let me give you some