Long Black Veil Read Online Free
Author: Jeanette Battista
the total package: good student, an athlete, gorgeous, from a solid family, and rich. If Skylar had wanted to trade up, Devon hated to tell her that there wasn’t any more up beyond Brock. Devon knew that Brock had no idea she was alive, but even if she didn’t have the buying power, there was nothing that said she couldn’t window shop.
She watched the retreating backs of the gaggle of girls absently, trying not to think about much of anything. Skylar flipped her long blonde ponytail, making Devon grimace. The ponytail flip. She remembered how Skylar had treated her in middle school; she’d made a point of trying to embarrass Devon whenever she could. Most of the time, she hadn’t cared, but Devon had always wondered why Skylar had singled her out from all of the other mountain girls that went to their school.
Devon folded up the aluminum foil her sandwich had been wrapped in and tucked it into her messenger bag’s front pocket. No point in dredging all of that stuff up again now. She just had to make it through the rest of this year and then she could put Skylar, her mother, and everything else well behind her.
Chapter Three
The Hall of Records was really just a room buried in the back of the Town Hall offices adjacent to the courthouse. The building was fronted with Doric pillars, which the architects probably thought made it look stately and imposing. Devon thought it looked like someone with a fetish for ancient Greece just plonked a temple down in the middle of brick and clapboard store fronts and went about their merry way.
She climbed the wide steps leading up to the front doors, her messenger bag holding her financial aid and scholarship applications bouncing at her hip. She was most concerned with gathering the information she’d need for the scholarship Ms. Kilgore had given her. It was offered specifically to Appalachian families, but there was a catch: applicants had to prove they’d been living in the area for at least five generations. It meant a lot of sifting through files to find what she’d need in order to apply.
So Devon was headed to the records room. She needed to pull old birth certificates, death certificates, land deeds, and anything else that might prove her family had been in the area for all of this time. Her Gammy had already given her a helpful list of names of her forebears, so she at least had a place to start looking. But Devon didn’t kid herself; it was going to take some time. She still had a few months before the applications were due, but that didn’t mean she could just sit around and wait until the last minute. Not with her future away from this town on the line.
Devon waited at the front desk, watching as Mrs. Welbourne—a pillar of the community and inexhaustible local volunteer—gave instructions to someone on the other end of the phone. She tried not to fidget. Mrs. Welbourne returned the receiver to its cradle and smiled at Devon. “What can I help you with, dear?”
Devon pulled a manila folder from her bag and opened it to reveal a stack of papers. “I need to do some research for some scholarship applications. I’m going to need to copy some records, like birth certificates and stuff like that.”
“How far back do you need to go?” Mrs. Welbourne put her reading glasses on her nose and looked at the pages in the folder.
“Five generations.”
“Lordy.” Mrs. Welbourne smiled. “You’re going to need the archives for some of it.” She took another glance at the papers Devon had arrayed before her. “Seems like an awful lot of work for a scholarship.” She shrugged. “We’ve got an intern with us—I’ll give him a call and have him meet you at the Records room. He can get what you need from the archives.”
“Thank you very much.” Devon scooped her pages back up and into the folder in one smooth motion. “This probably won’t be the only time I’ll need to come here—I’ve got a lot of research for all of
She watched the retreating backs of the gaggle of girls absently, trying not to think about much of anything. Skylar flipped her long blonde ponytail, making Devon grimace. The ponytail flip. She remembered how Skylar had treated her in middle school; she’d made a point of trying to embarrass Devon whenever she could. Most of the time, she hadn’t cared, but Devon had always wondered why Skylar had singled her out from all of the other mountain girls that went to their school.
Devon folded up the aluminum foil her sandwich had been wrapped in and tucked it into her messenger bag’s front pocket. No point in dredging all of that stuff up again now. She just had to make it through the rest of this year and then she could put Skylar, her mother, and everything else well behind her.
Chapter Three
The Hall of Records was really just a room buried in the back of the Town Hall offices adjacent to the courthouse. The building was fronted with Doric pillars, which the architects probably thought made it look stately and imposing. Devon thought it looked like someone with a fetish for ancient Greece just plonked a temple down in the middle of brick and clapboard store fronts and went about their merry way.
She climbed the wide steps leading up to the front doors, her messenger bag holding her financial aid and scholarship applications bouncing at her hip. She was most concerned with gathering the information she’d need for the scholarship Ms. Kilgore had given her. It was offered specifically to Appalachian families, but there was a catch: applicants had to prove they’d been living in the area for at least five generations. It meant a lot of sifting through files to find what she’d need in order to apply.
So Devon was headed to the records room. She needed to pull old birth certificates, death certificates, land deeds, and anything else that might prove her family had been in the area for all of this time. Her Gammy had already given her a helpful list of names of her forebears, so she at least had a place to start looking. But Devon didn’t kid herself; it was going to take some time. She still had a few months before the applications were due, but that didn’t mean she could just sit around and wait until the last minute. Not with her future away from this town on the line.
Devon waited at the front desk, watching as Mrs. Welbourne—a pillar of the community and inexhaustible local volunteer—gave instructions to someone on the other end of the phone. She tried not to fidget. Mrs. Welbourne returned the receiver to its cradle and smiled at Devon. “What can I help you with, dear?”
Devon pulled a manila folder from her bag and opened it to reveal a stack of papers. “I need to do some research for some scholarship applications. I’m going to need to copy some records, like birth certificates and stuff like that.”
“How far back do you need to go?” Mrs. Welbourne put her reading glasses on her nose and looked at the pages in the folder.
“Five generations.”
“Lordy.” Mrs. Welbourne smiled. “You’re going to need the archives for some of it.” She took another glance at the papers Devon had arrayed before her. “Seems like an awful lot of work for a scholarship.” She shrugged. “We’ve got an intern with us—I’ll give him a call and have him meet you at the Records room. He can get what you need from the archives.”
“Thank you very much.” Devon scooped her pages back up and into the folder in one smooth motion. “This probably won’t be the only time I’ll need to come here—I’ve got a lot of research for all of
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