A Flickering Light Read Online Free PDF Page B

burdens may fall unfairly, but one could always turn a misery into something good. Well, almost always.
    She’d liked living at the upper end of the valley in Cream. Moving to the city had made them all sad, her especially, to leave behind the refuge she found in the woods among the sumacs and shallow limestone caves. At least in Winona she could look out their second-story bedroom and see Sugar Loaf. Her father called it by its old name, Wapasha’s Cap. The land formation reminded Jessie of a cone of candy like the one she’d had at the St. Louis World’s Fair. She’d let her eyes scan the treetops and the spires of St. Mary’s Academy that poked their way into the green. On Sundays after church they sometimes drove the buggy up to Bluffside Park, where one could look out over the world and even see Wisconsin in the form of bluffs on the other side of the Mississippi River. The world was full of pictures, and they were best observed from heights.
    A blast of wind struck her, and she shivered despite her hurrying pace. This job as a photographer’s assistant would offer a warm place to work in winter. The pay would be adequate, she was certain, and there’d be excitement, new things happening each day. Best of all, she’d be learning about what she’d come to love. At a photographer’s studio she’d be viewing photographs as part of her job instead of having to sneak looks while she bound the books they illustrated.
    She felt a stiffness as she pulled her shawl closer. The bloody sleeves would add nothing to her interview success. She had to face facts. Mr. Steffes’s plight had been the more important, and if the opportunity arose, she’d tell Mr. Bauer what had made her late and why she wasn’t dressed at her perfect best. She hoped he’d understand. At least she hadn’t fainted at the sight of Mr. Steffes’s blood. Maybe she could get a job at the Winona Hospital.
    “Jessie, you goose! You nearly walked me over.” Voe stumbled in front of her like an apparition escaping from the studio wall. “I almost went in without you. It’s time, right now! What kept you?” Her eyes caught the sleeves. “Are you all right? Where’d the blood come from?”
    “It’s not my blood,” Jessie said. “Mr. Steffes had an accident at his shop, and I was able to help him but—”
    “The bicycle man? What were you doing there?”
    “It’s a story,” Jessie said. “I’ll probably have to tell it to Mr. Bauer, to explain my appearance, so I don’t think I’ll take time now.”
    “You look like dog-tossed food.”
    “Is my wave piece centered at least? I can’t imagine Mr. Bauer taking me seriously if the curls have been pulled to the side.” Jessie patted at her hair.
    “Your hat’s on straight. But…the blood. I can’t take my eyes from it.”
    Jessie stared at her sleeves. The stains ran the length of her forearm and onto the curl of cuffs at her wrist. The shawl wouldn’t cover it. She sighed. “There’s just one thing to do then.” She set the camera bag below the bay display window. With her teeth she tore at the sleeve, ripping the cloth so it ended at the elbow’s bend. Her right arm was perfectly fine but there was nothing to be done but rip it as well. “May as well be balanced.”
    She’d heard Voe’s gasp at the first tear, and her mouth was still open at the second. Jessie plucked at the threads, stuffed the torn pieces into her bag, and straightened her small shoulders as she hiked the bag up and over her head, the strap forming half an X across her chest. “I’m ready.”
    The torn sleeves were just one more thing she’d have to explain to her mother.

    F. J. Bauer checked his watch. His clients had taken more time than usual to settle themselves in for the sitting. They were a young couple, recently moved from the East and wanting to reassure their families back in Manhattan that they hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth in this wild northwest country of sawmills and