May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

husband had bought her as a wedding present. They’re hand-painted with different designs, and she looks each of them over before picking out her favorite.
    Well, dis one’ll have t’be enough to remember better days, she says, and wraps it back in her extra dress.
    Don’t, Em, Ethan’s Mam protests. Moichael gave ’em to ya.
    I
have
to, Nora, I can’t carry ’em anymore.
    Well I can carry ’em for a time an’ den maybe you’ll feel better an’ can—
    Nora, all I want t’do now is get to th’damn boat an’ get on wit’ whatever else it is th’Lahrd sees fit to test us wit’. I got enough to remember ’bout Moichael wit’out luggin’ dese plates halfway ’cross th’bleedin’ country.
    Since at least Aislinn’s funeral, Ethan’s felt like he’s let everyone down. Da told him he was the man of the house when he left, and even if he was just kidding about that, seein’ how he was just a lad of ten when his Da said it, Ethan still feels like he’s failed to take care of all of them the way he should’ve, the way his Da would’ve, or even Seanny. And to see Aunt Em leave this treasure behind, after all she’s already left back home, is about all he can take of that shame without doing something drastic. So he ducks behind a tree, unwraps his satchel, and makes the difficult decision in just a few seconds. Shakespeare, Homer, Milton, and Chaucer make the cut, while Shelley and Swift are left behind. Out of sight from his Mam and Aunt Em, he places the two books side by side and leans them against a tree, hoping they’ll be adopted by passersby for something more than kindling or to wipe their arses. Then he walks over to the discarded plates and begins to wrap them carefully in his satchel.
    Ethan, what’re ya doin’? Aunt Emily asks.
    I can carry dem, he says with confidence.
    Now don’t be stahrtin’—
    I can
carry
dem, he interrupts like he never would, somehow stumbling upon a man’s sense of resolution, what with how neither his Aunt, nor his Mam, say anything more about it.
    They walk slowly, coverin’ maybe five or six miles through the entire mornin’ before stopping for a short rest. When it’s time to continue, Ethan can feel the weight of the satchel dig into his bruised and beleaguered shoulder, as he sets it in place. There are four books remaining, but he knows now that they can’t possibly all make the trip with him, not if he’s going to carry Aunt Emily’s plates. Newry must still be ten or twelve miles off, he figures, and as they plod along, slower than ever, he begins to consider which book to leave behind next. The Shakespeare, Aislinn’s favorite, will stay, of course. He’ll drop his extra set of clothesbefore it comes to that. And
The Odyssey
is his favorite of all of them, so that’ll stay as well. That leaves Chaucer and Milton—
Canterbury Tales
and
Paradise Lost
. Chaucer’s the first to go, left at the base of a stone wall after their midday rest. Then, as evening arrives in the distance, he excuses himself from his Mam and Aunt, sayin’ he has to visit the necessary just off the road. He places his bag against one tree, then walks to another twenty feet farther away to tend to business. When he returns to his satchel, he removes Milton and notices just a whisper of relief in the load he still carries.
    They walk for another mile or so, then stop as darkness sets in with still no sign of Newry in the distance. Ethan can feel the blood collecting near the back of his shoes where blisters from the first day of walking had torn open on the second and then again today. He takes them off slowly, excruciatingly, then turns them over on the ground to let the blood trickle out. His Mam and Aunt sit exhaustedly beside one another, broken, nothin’ proper or ladylike about their appearance now, and he knows that if they had the energy, they’d cry at the sight of each other. There’s enough daylight left to collect wood for a fire, but there’ll be no more