By the Rivers of Brooklyn Read Online Free PDF Page A

family way before they were even married. She couldn’t picture Ethel doing such a thing, but she could well believe it of Jim, who was not always a gentleman, not like poor Bert.
    Poor Ethel, Annie thought, how lonely she must have been up there all by herself, without Bert. I hope Jim is good to her.
    Annie loved all three of her brothers, of course, but they were so different. She had always admired Jim. He was the oldest, the good-looking one, the hero behind whom they all trailed, amazed at his daring feats, unable to imitate him. Little Harold – not little now, of course, he was almost seventeen, but they were all used to thinking of him that way – was such an afterthought for Mom that Annie had fallen into the habit of looking after him, even though she was only two years older.
    But Bert had been the one she was closest to. He always had a kind word for everyone. Better than words, he could walk into a house where everything was topsy-turvy, where something had gone terribly wrong, and Bert could find the one good useful thing to do, like bringing in an armload of wood for the fire or shovelling a path to the door. She had been so happy when he and Ethel had started walking out, because Ethel admired and loved Bert just as she did. Bert would take good care of her best friend, and all three of them could always stay close, not like if her favourite brother had married some stranger.
    And now Bert was dead, and Ethel was married to Jim, and they were having a baby. Life was funny. Annie turned back to her pot of stew on the stove and pushed at one of the dumplings, letting it bob back to the surface, thinking of the warm solid weight of a baby in her arms. Ethel would have that, soon. A baby of her own.
    â€œI think it’s grand. I hope they’ll be very happy,” she said.
    â€œHmm.” The stick tapped and the chair creaked as Mrs. Evans got up. “I’m just going over the road to Mrs. Stokes’ for an hour. I’ll be back before your father gets home. You have supper ready by five, you mind.”
    In the empty kitchen, Annie sang, “There is power, power, wonderworking power… In the blood…of the Lamb,” as she worked on supper. She didn’t hear Harold come in behind her until he pulled out a chair and sat down.
    â€œSome cold out today,” Harold said. “Jim says down in New York the snow is already thawed by March.”
    Annie heard his words and what lay underneath them, and felt her heart grow hard like a stone. They would all be gone soon. Harold was the last and he would be gone as soon as he could wheedle his way past Mom and Pop.
    â€œMom’s not going to let you go, you know,” she said.
    They had never spoken before about Harold going away, but he didn’t seem surprised at her reply, only nodded, as if his thoughts had been painted on the kitchen wall and anyone should have been able to read them. “I knows that. But I knows I’m going, too.”
    â€œNot yet. It’s too soon…after Bert.”
    â€œNo, not this spring, anyway. Maybe next year. There’s nothing in this place for me, Annie.”
    â€œI know.”
    He didn’t say, You should come too. Nobody ever did. They took it for granted that she didn’t want to go, and they were right. The longing for faraway places, for new voices, for a different kind of life, even for more money, drove all her family away, but all those longings were absent in Annie.
    â€œNo, girl, I got to give Mom time to get used to the idea. You’ll have me hanging around like the millstone around your neck for a good while yet, I’d say.” He grinned, his laughter coming quickly as always.
    Much as she had loved Bert, Annie now thought Harold was perhaps the best of them all. He had Jim’s quick way with words and ready laughter, his wit and light-heartedness, but he was as solid and sensible as poor Bert, as kind and thoughtful, and