Sometimes a Great Notion Read Online Free PDF Page B

tune:
     
    Why don’t you cuddle up . . . an’ console me,
Snuggle up . . . an’ comfort me,
Pacify my heart jes’ one more time?
     
    Down the long bar past the gently throbbing glow of the jukebox, the shuffleboard, through the partitioned gloom of empty booths, finally finding the girl at the very back. By herself. With a beer glass. The upturned collar of a heavy pea jacket frames her slim, moist face. The moisture—he can’t tell—is it rain or tears or just too damned hot in here sweat? Her pale hands resting on a large maroon album . . . she watches him approach, the slightest smile turning her lips. And so does she , Draeger realizes, greeting her; more than I do. Odd . . . that I could have thought I understood so much .
    “Mr. Draeger . . .” The girl indicates a chair. “You look like a man after information.”
    “I want to know what happened,” he says, sitting. “And why.”
    She looks down at her hands, shaking her head. “More information than I can give, too, I’m afraid.” She raises her head and smiles at him again. “Honest; I’m afraid I really can’t explain ‘and why’ ”—her smile wry but not all derisive as the grins of those other fools had been, wry, but sincerely sorry and somehow quite sweet. Draeger is surprised by the anger generated in him by her reply— this damned flu! —surprised by the rapid beating of his heart and the uncontrolled rising of his voice.
    “Doesn’t that imbecile husband of yours realize? I mean the danger of making such a run down the river without help?”
    The girl continues smiling at him. “You mean doesn’t Hank realize what the town will think of him if he goes through with it . . . isn’t that what you started to say, Mr. Draeger?”
    “All right. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Isn’t he aware that he is risking complete— total —alienation?”
    “He’s risking more than that. He may lose his little wife if he goes through with it. For one thing. And he may lose his life, for another.”
    “Then what? ”
    The girl studies Draeger a moment, then takes a sip of her beer. “You could never understand it all. You just want a reason, two or three reasons. When there are reasons going back two or three hundred years . . .”
    “Rubbish. All I want to know is what changed his mind.”
    “You would have to know what made it up in the first place, wouldn’t you?”
    “Made what?”
    “His mind, Mr. Draeger.”
    “All right . I mean all right. I have plenty of time.”
    The girl takes another sip of beer. She closes her eyes and wipes a lock of wet hair back from her forehead. Draeger suddenly realizes that she is completely exhausted—dazed, almost. He waits for her to open her eyes again. The smell of disinfectant floats from a nearby toilet. The jukebox beats against the smoke-varnished knotty pine walls:
     
    To try an’ ferget I turn to the wine . . .
A empty bottle a broken heart
An’ still you’re on my mind.
     
    The girl opens her eyes and pulls up a sleeve to look at her watch. Then folds her hands on the maroon album again. “I guess, Mr. Draeger, things used to be different around this area.” Rubbish; the world is always the same. “No. Don’t scowl, Mr. Draeger. Really. I didn’t quite believe it myself . . .” She knows what I’m thinking! “. . . but I gradually came around. Here. Let me show you something.” She opens the book; the smell reminds her of the attic. (Oh, the attic. He kissed me good-by and my sore lip . . .) “This is the family history, sort of. I’ve finally got around to reading up on it.” (I’ve got around to admitting . . . my lips blister, every winter.)
    She pushes the book across the table toward Draeger; it is a large photograph album, awkward with old prints. Draeger opens it slowly, hesitant since his experience with those binoculars. “There isn’t anything written here. Just dates and pictures . . .”
    “Use your imagination, Mr. Draeger; that’s what I’ve been