Providence Read Online Free PDF

mudroom every other Friday. I’d just smile back, making jokes of my own and folding that gold paper into my pocket. For two years I walked those checks down to the bank. He didn’t know what I planned to do with the money, but I think even Frank might have fallen off his chair if he’d known just how much my nest egg had grown.
    While I casually sipped my orange juice that morning, I was resting in the knowledge that I had more than $24,000 sitting in the Iowa State Federal Bank awaiting transfer. Hard work had taught me the value of hard dollars. Still, her question touched a nerve that was hard to conceal. Maybe it had something to do with growing up too fast, or remembering the four of us together on our last vacation. Mom, Dad, Ruthie, and me eating in the restaurant at the Weststar Hotel in Virginia Beach, innocent of all that lay ahead.
    “Yes,” I said at last. “I think I’ve got enough.”
    We heard Mitchell’s car pulling up the long gravel drive. I wiped my mouth and hurried from the table, heading to the screen door where I’d dropped my duffel bags. I picked them up and used one to push through the door. Marianne laid her hand on my shoulder from behind, and I turned around. She looked as if she wanted to say something but remained silent. All except her eyes. I leaned into the door, again hearing it smack against the side of the house.
    Marianne trailed me beyond the cover of the aluminum awning and into the hot morning sun.
    Mitchell cut the engine and stepped out of the Cutlass. “You look like you could use a four-year education. G’mornin’, Mrs. C.”
    “Good morning, Mitchell.”
    Tall and athletic, wearing cropped brown hair and dark sunglasses, Mitchell looked like he was headed for Top Gun flight school, not Providence College. It was no wonder he’d had girlfriends to spare since the seventh grade.
    “Mitchell, you’re a Swiss train,” I said. “It’s nine o’clock on the nose.”
    “I would’ve been here earlier, but you know Hank and Blanch,” Mitch said, rolling his eyes, acting excessively put out by his perfect parents. “First it was ‘Did you make sure to get the oil changed?’ Then it was ‘Are you sure you have the directions to Providence?’ I’m lucky I got here at all.”
    Mitch walked over to open the trunk.
    “I haven’t had much of a chance to catch up with you this summer, Mitchell,” Marianne said. “How are your folks doing?”
    “They’re good. They still wish I was going to the University of Iowa, but I think overall they’re excited to get me out of the house.” Mitchell grinned. “They’re happy I’m not sticking around here for Jack’s old job at Bubba’s.”
    Marianne laughed. She loved Mitchell, had always been at ease with him. I tossed my things into the trunk and walked to the passenger door. Marianne stood a few feet away talking with Mitch, her arms locked across her chest like there was a chill in the air.
    Maybe there was. I wondered if part of her was wishing she could come along on our adventure, or at least have one of her own.
    “Mitchell, I’ve got a hot breakfast inside if you’re interested,” She tempted him.
    “I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” I interrupted, drawing looks from Mitchell and Marianne. There was every chance Mitch would take Marianne up on her offer, and I couldn’t risk it. Closure loomed so close now, it hummed like electricity in the air between us.
    “We’ll catch something on the road,” Mitchell said, covering for my curt response.
    “Hey,” Marianne said, “Let me get a picture of you guys!” She headed back toward the house.
    “There isn’t time,” I called out, a little too abruptly.
    Marianne turned. “Jack, I’m not going to paint your portrait.”
    She disappeared into the house. I gazed at Mitchell to check his demeanor. He was in excellent spirits.
    “Good morning, Mr. College Man,” he said.
    “Good morning, Mr. Cutlass,” I replied, greeting him in that