Nathaniel Read Online Free PDF

farm which had suddenly become fascinating. “How come?”
    His grandfather offered him a faint smile. “ ’Cause Ben Findley doesn’t like kids,” he said. “He doesn’t like anybody, but especially, he doesn’t like kids.” Then his voice softened, and he took Michael’s hand. “Now come on, son. Let’s get back to the farm. This is all over here, and we’ve all got to get back to living.” He started walking slowly away, and his arm fell across Michael’s shoulders. He was silent as they moved through the sunshine, but before they got to the car, he paused and turned to face Michael.
    “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, and Michael knew that this time Amos was talking about his father.
    “I think so,” he said uncertainly. “I—I just can’t get used to it. I keep thinking he’s going to come back, even though I know he’s not.”
    His grandfather glanced back toward the grave, then pulled his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped at his eyes. “He should have come back a long time ago,” he said in a voice that made Michael wonder if he was supposed to be listening or if the old man was talking to himself. “All of you should have. But now that you’re home, we’ll see that you stay here.”
    Then, once more, he moved toward the car, where Anna, brushing off Janet’s attempts to help her, had swung herself out of her wheelchair and into the back seat of the Olds, then folded up the chair and pulled it in after her.
    “See?” she asked Janet when she was done. “It’s just a matter of deciding what you have to do, then doing it.” A few moments later, when Janet had joined her in the back seat, and Amos, with Michael beside him, had pulled away from the little cemetery, she reached out and took Janet’s hand. “That’s what you’re going to have to do now,” she said. “Decide what to do, then do it. But don’t you fret about it, dear—we’re all here, and we’ll all help.”
    Janet lay her head back against the seat, and closed her eyes, offering a small prayer of gratitude for the family Mark had left behind him. He may not have needed them, she thought, but I do. Dear God, how I need them …
    Janet glanced at the clock in the corner of the living room and wondered how much longer it could go on. It was already four-thirty, and it was becoming harder and harder to fight off the exhaustion of the day. The room was hot and stuffy, and overfilled with people, and Janet was beginning to think the situation, for her, was hopeless. She could remember the names of Mark’s sister, Laura, and her husband—Buck Shields—and their son, Ryan, who seemed to be about Michael’s age, but that was all. And the introduction to them had been terribly awkward, for she hadn’t even been able to utter a polite “I’ve heard so much about you.” She’d hoped that when she saw Laura, she’d recognize her, that something about her would jog her memory, but it hadn’t. What
had
struck her immediately, though, was the fact that Laura, like herself, was pregnant, but much further along. Though Janet had not commented on it, and was relieved that Laura had not seemed to guess, the coincidence had made her feel an immediate bond to the delicate-looking woman who was her sister-in-law. Nevertheless, Janet had finally come to the conclusion that in all their years together, Mark had never mentioned his sister to her.
    Why?
    Each time she saw Laura—an ethereal wisp of a woman whose eyes, even when she smiled, seemed oddly haunted—the question of why Mark had never spoken of her came into Janet’s mind. Each time, she rejected it, shifting what was left of her concentration to someone else.
    But there was only a sea of nameless faces, people whom she hoped were not offended by her inability to greet them with the same familiarity with which they greeted her:
    “So you’re Mark’s Janet.”
    Mark’s Janet
.
    Over and over again, the same two words.
“Mark’s Janet.”
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