April Love Story Read Online Free Page A

Energy Sourcebook. Country Living. “Hmmm. Do I want to learn how to make my compost quicker and better?”
    I tried to laugh, but a quiver of Lucas-induced fear was darting around in my brain. What had happened to House Beautiful and Fortune and Glamour?
    “Catnip as a cash crop,” read Joel. “Say. I’ve been worried about my college major, but with this article I can get my whole future squared away.”
    “And look over here,” I said. “How to grind your own bread flour. How to make windchimes out of discarded Coke bottle bottoms. How to tighten a fence.”
    “Tighten a fence,” said Joel. “Who would have thought that fences had to be tightened?” He stared at a photo of an apparently self-sufficient couple posed, beaming, in front of a shack in which they actually lived. They wore shapeless bib overalls and were knee deep in huge overgrown leaves that looked like a vegetable’s nightmare and turned out to be rhubarb. “I can’t even stand the thought of gardening,” said Joel. “All those bugs and worms, sinking up to my ankles in dirt. That field trip today was enough country to last me for years.”
    I fought my fears, telling myself Lucas was a fool and a creep and nothing he ever said was worth two cents, but I was suddenly aware that in the last year there had been an awful lot of changes in our household.
    “Look at these classified ads,” exclaimed Joel. “‘Sincere, virile, outdoor-type philosopher looking for willing companion interested in sunshine, common sense, holistic living, and pigs to help run my farm in the Ozarks.’” Joel choked on his carrot cake. “Don’t know why the man specifies common sense. It’s a cinch he’s not offering any.”
    I was seeing my mother reading seed catalogs the way she used to read Redbook. My father thumbing through the farm and ranch edition of the Sears catalog looking at beehive equipment. The library books, not mysteries or spy novels these days, but How to Raise Chickens and Ducks, How to Buy Country Property, Your Best Woodstove Buy.
    Both my parents would read anything. From the ingredients on the Cheerios box to forty-five things to do with Arm & Hammer Baking Soda. From coffee table photograph collections of Andes Mountains civilizations to guides for getting ham radio licenses.
    So they were reading about farming now. So what? It was just this year’s winter entertainment. That was all.
    “Enough of this rural stuff,” said Joel, a sentiment with which I heartily agreed. “Back to what matters. There’s a new Burt Reynolds movie playing at that theater down by the school. You want to go tonight after supper?”
    He had asked me. A really truly date with Joel Fiori. I couldn’t wait to telephone Susannah. And what should I wear? What would … “I’d love to, Joel,” I said. We leaned toward each other just a fraction, kind of apprehensively, but very eagerly, and I thought, Do I want my first real grown-up kiss to be with my eyes closed, or—
    “Yoo hoo, I’m home!” shouted my mother.
    Joel leaned back and turned the page in the magazine. Thus went my first grown-up kiss.
    “Hello, Marnie. Hello, Joel. How are you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but bustled on into the kitchen to put down her packages.
    “Mother, Joel and I are going to the movies tonight after supper, okay?” I knew it would be okay. Susannah and I go out by ourselves lots of times and Mother never objects. And with Joel!
    But Mother appeared in the kitchen door and said no. She actually said no. An expression of disgust fleetingly crossed Joel’s face, as if I had lied to him about my age, and he hadn’t realized I was going to turn out to be some little girl.
    “But, Mother—”
    “I’m sorry, Marnie. I didn’t know you were making plans or I’d’ve told you not to. Today we found out—well, things have rapidly come to a head, Marnie, and tonight we have something to talk about.”
    “We can talk over supper,” I offered, “or when I