Illuminated Read Online Free

Illuminated
Book: Illuminated Read Online Free
Author: Erica Orloff
Pages:
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. you’re welcome to come. And I promise, not one word about old books.”
    “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
    “One more thing to show you.” He led me to the little greenhouse. He opened the door, and humid air enveloped me like a wet kiss. We ducked inside, my head bowing at the low doorway. Once inside, there was a quiet hum of a fan, and the door was shut, leaving the greenhouse so hot that droplets of humidity clung to me. We had to stand close, almost touching, because the pagoda was so small.
    “These are my orchids,” he whispered, facing me, my chest almost touching his. The air was fragrant, and I could smell the flowers, but could also smell August, his own scent that clung to him. For a long moment, we stared at each other. I thought he might kiss me, and the thought made me panic. I looked away first.
    “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go see what Harry and my dad are up to.”
    We left the greenhouse, the outside summer air feeling cool after the pagoda. I followed August into the house, reluctantly leaving the bird sounds and the koi. Reluctantly leaving a place where I was alone with him.

3
     
    Is love so different from a shooting star, passing violently through the night sky?
    —A.
     
     
    “ A ugust?” Professor Sokolov looked up when we returned. “Where did you disappear to?”
    “Garden.”
    “I needn’t have asked.” He looked at me. “What better way to impress our beautiful guest. But August, Callie, this is the discovery of a lifetime. We have work to do.”
    “We?” I looked at Uncle Harry. My skin still felt damp from the greenhouse, and my heart still pounded from being so close to August. I wondered if Uncle Harry could hear it beating. If August knew how he affected me.
    “Professor Sokolov is going to help me research the origins of the palimpsest. Which means August here will be doing the actual research. And I’m sending you to represent the Royal Auction House and me. You are a summer intern after all.”
    “But why me? Why not you?” I asked. I was a gopher. I got coffee. I made sure Uncle Harry’s Starbucks was made perfectly—caramel macchiatto with soy milk, light on foam, two raw sugar packets. I made copies. I sent e-mails. I typed reports. I had a job at an impressive place to make my college applications look really good—the Royal Auction House was legendary. But I wasn’t a researcher. Though the prospect of treasure hunting with August meant my summer just got a whole lot more interesting.
    “My job is to continue to discover just what this mysterious A. has to say. Yours is to follow the trail. I trust you.” He stared at me meaningfully. Like, Why are you arguing when you get to be with August?
    “Uh, what sort of work are we going to be doing?”
    “When a manuscript is centuries old, it has passed through many hands. Remember when I said it had secrets?”
    I nodded.
    “It has a story, too. And we need to know that story.”
    Dr. Sokolov pulled a book off of his shelf. “You see this volume? It is a book of poems by Walt Whitman. A first edition.” He handed it to me. “Open the front cover. Carefully.”
    The cover was worn and tattered, a plain brown with gold foil letters proclaiming Leaves of Grass. The spine was stiff and the pages very brittle. “How old is it?”
    “It was published in 1889,” August said. He stood to my side as I opened the book.
    On the front page was an inscription. At the bottom was a name in ink . . . Walt Whitman.
    “He signed this?” I asked.
    Dr. Sokolov smiled. “That little book is worth about thirteen thousand dollars. But the path we traveled to discover it and certify that it was truly signed by Whitman . . . well, that path was almost as worn as the book.”
    I felt a tingle rush through me. “It really is like a mystery, isn’t it?” I shut the book and held it out. “Please take it before I accidentally rip a page.” I flunked out of ballet class—gracefulness was not my thing, Audrey Hepburn
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