Shannon's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to the present.   “Just thinking
how fast the time here is going.   What
are you doing out here?   I thought you
were helping prepare the little ones for bed.”
    “Done.   They’re not so bad, you know, once you get to know them.   I suppose they felt the same about me at
first.   I am the only American cousin,
after all.”
    They
sat in silence for a time, until from inside the sound of music, a scratchy
phonograph record, broke the mood.   Laughter and teasing voices competed with Deanna Durban singing “Begin
the Beguine.”
    “Maeve
wanted to practice dancing with Jack.   For the party, you know.”   Peg’s
opinion of said party, an event planned for the coming Saturday night, was all
too obvious.
    “Don’t
you like parties?”
    “Sure.   I guess.   Small dinner parties are okay.   But dancing parties, I’m not so wild about.   I had to go to cotillion all last winter and
frankly, being pushed around by clumsy boys with sweaty hands was a real
disappointment.   Connie’s older sister
Prue made it sound really romantic, but obviously the boys in her class were a
cut above ours.”
    “Those
boys will grow up to be far more interesting in a year or so.”
    “Don’t
talk to me like some wise old uncle, Kendall.   I don’t like it.”
    He
thought he heard tears in her voice, and turned to study her face in the
dimness.   “I didn’t mean to.   I’m just suggesting you give the opposite sex
a chance to prove itself to you.   Girls
mature more rapidly than boys, or so I’ve been told.”
    She was
either considering what he’d said, or nursing some wound, he wasn’t sure
which.   “Would you dance with me?” was
the last thing he expected to hear her say, given her prickly mood.
    “Out
here, you mean?”   He nodded toward the
enclosed garden beyond the kitchen door.
    “Why
not?”
    He
decided it wouldn’t hurt to humor her.   Getting to his feet, he held out his hand.   “Miss Shannon, may I have the pleasure of
this dance?”
    The
music had changed to a waltz, and when she came into the frame of his arms, she
began to count under her breath.   Between
beats, she whispered, “I’m not very good.   Are you?”
    “Passing.   Just relax and listen to the music.   Let yourself move with me, not
quite so independently.”   He felt her
draw a deep breath and exhale.   “That’s
it.   Don’t think about where we’re
going.   Just follow me.”
    They
circled the narrow lawn several times, in and out of the halo of light.   “How old were you when your father
died?”   He was startled by the question,
even more so by the tremor in her voice.
    “Twelve.   He’d been ill for years.   We were prepared, or as prepared as one can
be for that kind of thing.”
    She
tensed slightly beneath his grasp.   “I
was just a baby, not even a year old when my mother was killed.   I don’t remember her at all.”
    “I’m
sorry.   That must be very hard.”   He saw tears shimmering in her eyes as they
passed through the light again.   “Peg, please. . . can I help?”
    Now in
complete darkness, she stopped moving.   After
an awkward moment, he gathered her closer, placing a tentative hand on her
hair.   She seemed suddenly alone and in
need, someone he instinctively understood.   “I’m sorry.   I know I’m being silly,” she whispered.   “It was watching the little kids, the way their mothers were fussing
over them, putting on their pajamas and tucking them into bed.   It made me wish. . .”   A soft sob took her final words.
    “Shh.   I understand.   And it’s not at all silly.   It’s
normal.   I cried myself to sleep for
months after my father died, and me a great hulking school boy.”  
    Sniffing,
she raised her head and he could just make out a crooked little smile.   “You were never hulking, I’m sure.”   Stepping away from him, she wiped at her
face.   “I’m fine now.   I don’t usually do that where anybody can
see.”