That Forgetful Shore Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the plates, lays the gravy boat on them to keep them down. This is her life. No room for regret. Not in daylight, anyway. All the thoughts she tidies away in the daytime burst out of cupboard doors at night, taunt and tease her. She lies awake for hours, with two-year-old Betty curled next to her in the bed breathing noisily. Trif watches the moon cross the sky through her window. Imagines a boat that will take her away to Kit, her Peony, to some other life they can share together.
    No. No such dreams in daylight. She, too, is tired in the mornings from her poor night’s sleep. Will falls asleep quickly, as she cannot, but some trouble disturbs his slumber and he pads around the cold floor on small bare feet, down the steps, sometimes even lifting the latch and going outside before some sound wakes his mother and she goes looking for him.
    â€œThis morning was the queerest one yet,” Aunt Rachel says. “I never heard him at all in the night, though I sleeps right on edge. Then when I got up and went in to him, he was asleep, tucked away in his bed, and I thought, oh thank the good Lord, he’s never moved, he slept through the night. Then I lifted the covers and his little feet, Triffie, you would not believe it. The bottoms of his feet was covered, all covered in mud and grass. He’d been out walking, see, and never even woke himself up, came back in and got back in his bed and never even knew he was outdoors. What do you make of that, Trif?”
    â€œI don’t know, I’m sure.”
    â€œJust the thought of him, out there in the dark, not even knowing he was out of the house. It gives me the shivers, it does.”
    â€œIt does.” Trif tries not to picture it but the images come without volition. Will, tiny and lost, in the yard. Asleep, walking through the cold wet grass. How many steps down to the road and across to the water’s edge? What would it take to startle him awake? Would he walk right into the water, let it close over his head?
    â€œI finds I sleeps right light, these nights,” Trif says. “I should stay up, watch out for him. I can’t get to sleep anyway.”
    â€œWell, it would be a weight off my mind if you did, Triffie, I don’t mind saying.”
    Instantly, Trif shifts from concern for Will to resentment at her aunt. Not enough I works for her every waking hour and shares my bed with Betty, now I got to be on duty through the night as well. Then regrets her resentment, because she loves her cousins and would never see any harm come to them, especially Will.
    She wonders if it means anything, that his sleepwalking started just when he went off to school. Is he having trouble with the other boys? He plays with young Isaac French next door, but what about the Mercer boys from the south side? They’re a hard crowd. They seem much older, though the youngest is just Will’s age. They are all big, and every one of them tough as nails. Are they hard on him?
    â€œAunt Hepsy says to tie a string to his ankle, tie it to the leg of the bed,” Aunt Rachel says. “But I don’t like the thought of keeping a child tied up, like an animal.”
    â€œBut an animal don’t wander in its sleep,” Trif points out. “Better tied up than…lost, I suppose, or catch pneumonia from being out in the night. What about when winter comes?”
    â€œI could get the Mister to put a new hasp on the door, higher up where Will couldn’t get at it, maybe.”
    â€œYou could do that,” Trif agrees.
    â€œBut the rope? Do you think I should try it?”
    Trif is not used to her aunt treating her as an equal, seeking her opinion. It is a tacit acknowledgement that by leaving school and dedicating herself to the house and children, she has entered the adult world. Not the same adult world she wanted to enter, the one where her Peony grows, but the one her aunt respects and understands. The world of women and houses, food