Agnes Mallory Read Online Free PDF Page B

from a culvert at the top of the hill to I don’t know where. You couldn’t see it from the road, but I’d been to it a couple of times for rock battles with my friends – standing on either side of the water, tossing rocks in to splash each other – so I knew it was there. It seemed to me that my father was headed for the trees behind the houses, and for the stream.
    That stopped me a minute. Why would he be going in there? I straightened and watched. My father went out of sight behind the houses. Interested then, I crossed the street, trotting after him.
    When I got to the opposite sidewalk, I saw him again. He was threading his way into the screen of hardwoods. Bending the leafless branches down with his hands. Heading in toward the stream bank. He looked weird to me in that sylvan setting, wearing his navy suit and his thin tie. And as he started down the slope to the bank, he became an obscure, dark figure, moving behind brown trunks and conifers.
    I started after him again, panting now, though mostly for show. I plunged into the trees with great shuffling and crackling. Battled my way to the crest of the slope and then side-heeled my way down it to the stony strand. It was darker there. The opposite side of the stream was steeper and pretty high. The trees on its rim were taller and there were more pines and hemlocks that blocked the westering sun. In this twilight, I found my father again. He had planted himself in the black mud of the bank. He was looking away from me, his hands in his pants pockets. Beside him, the stream trickled around rocks and over pebbles making its small noise.
    I loped up to him, panting for all I was worth.
    â€˜Dad!’
    It spooked him, that’s for sure. His whole upper body whipped around to me, his hands flying out of his pockets, out to the side.
    â€˜Harry? Harry? ’
    â€˜Hi. I saw you from the road,’ I said, between heavy gasps for air.
    â€˜You scared the heck out of me.’ He smiled wanly. His eyes really looked wide and frightened. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. ‘Jeepers. What are you doing here?’
    â€˜I was going home this way. How come you’re down here by the stream?’
    â€˜I … I’m meeting someone.’ A branch snapped downstream. He whipped around at this too. Then came back to me, nervously. ‘A client,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting a client. We have to talk about a parcel of land back here. Why don’t you go on home, and I’ll be back in time for dinner.’
    More branches crunched. I tilted over to look around my father. I saw two figures coming toward us along the bank. A woman and a girl, moving in shadows. They came on slowly, and passed into a patch of latticed sunlight. The woman, I saw then, was tall with tawny hair worn long. She walked with stately care, a sweater over her shoulders, a long skirt swaying. I could hear her talking pleasantly to the little girl. The girl was thin and had dark hair in a braid down her back. She was carrying a basket over her arm. She answered her mother in a low voice. I didn’t remember seeing either of them before.
    â€˜Go ahead,’ my father said again. ‘I’ll be back for dinner.’
    The woman indicated a place by the stream and the little girl carried her basket to it and knelt down cautiously. The woman left her there and continued along more quickly by herself. By this time, it did seem a good idea to get out of there before I had to talk to her. But it was too late. The woman greeted us before I could make up my mind.
    â€˜Hello, Michael. And hello,’ she added to me.
    She seemed nice enough. With round cheeks and brown freckles and not much makeup. Nervous hands; fretful eyes. A Mom, and pretty. She made me shy. I managed to mutter something to her.
    â€˜This is Harry,’ my father said. ‘Harry, this is Mrs Sole.’ The two grownups exchanged a look. I believe my father shrugged at