The Clearing Read Online Free PDF Page B

she did the best she could."
    I cut a few more beans and tossed them into the bowl. "I guess. She worked a lot when they got divorced."
    "She was terrified," Mae said slowly. "Worried about how she was going to be both parents for you. But the thing she didn't do—didn't have the knowledge or the time to do—was to remind you that you are special."
    "I'm just a normal girl."
    "No, no. You're special. And I'm sorry I didn't help your mother remind you of that. I should have had you spend summers with me in the val ey. I guess I had the feeling that it would've been too boring for you with just old me to keep you company, but now I see it might have done us both some good." Mae reached out and patted me on the back. There were tears in her eyes. "If I could go back in time, Amy, I'd give that gift to you—and I'd remind you that you're special every time I could. Not just when I showed up with a jar of jam with a bow on top."
    I felt my throat clog up. "Mae. Seriously. It's al right."
    "No," Mae said. "It's never al right to forget something that important."
    I concentrated on the beans, stringing, clipping, and then cutting them into chunks. I didn't like seeing Mae upset. And I didn't real y get what she was saying. She was talking as if everyone were supposed to be going around thinking about how special they were al the time. But I thought everyone was supposed to be al the same. It didn't seem very cool to be thinking you're better than anyone else.
    We worked on the beans until around sunset, and Mae served us some chili she'd been cooking in her Crock-pot al day. Then we turned on the TV, and I did my homework on the floor next to Katie, who snored, paws twitching in her sleep. I felt safe—almost.
    This was my new family, my new life. It was going to be okay, and I was pretty sure my plan to forget about everything back home would work. The only problem I had now was figuring out how to get through school. And how to make a friend.

CHAPTER FOUR
    From the moment Henry opened his eyes, she'd been on his mind. Amy. Her name was Amy, he reminded himself. She hadn't come back to the clearing so far, but he hoped she would today.
    As sunlight hit the kitchen windows, he cleaned his plate in short order, wiping up the last of the sausage gravy with a piece of biscuit. He actual y never got tired of his mother's breakfasts. He would happily eat her biscuits for a lifetime.
    "You in a hurry?" Grandpa Briggs asked, pouring cream into his second cup of coffee. "You seem to have ants in your pants this morning."
    "No, sir." Henry took another biscuit from the towel-lined basket. Maybe just one more with some of the strawberry preserves.
    Mother sat down across from Grandpa, drying her hands on her apron. "You're a good eater today," she said, watching Henry doctor up the biscuit with the jam. Her own plate was empty. Her appetite was weak, as it always was.
    "I have a ful morning ahead," Henry said. "Big list of chores."
    His grandfather snorted. "Most of the summer you've been lazing in the hammock! To what do we owe this burst of enthusiasm?"
    Henry took a bite of the biscuit, savoring the sweet fruit topping. He hadn't had any jam in a week of breakfasts, just for a change. "Need to finish that mowing," he said.
    "Thought you finished that already," said Grandpa.
    "Always more that needs mowing," Henry replied.
    "So no more communing with Mr. Twain under a shady tree?" Mother said, managing a smile.
    "Wel , I might read some Faulkner today," he said.
    "You had enough Huckleberry Finn already?" Grandpa asked.
    "Yes, sir," Henry said. In truth he'd gone through the entire Briggs library several times over. He finished the last bite of the biscuit and wiped his mouth with the embroidered napkin. "May I be excused, please?"
    His mother raised her eyebrows. "Of course, dear."
    Grandpa tipped his cup. "We need to cut some of that lettuce today."
    "I'l do it after I mow, sir," Henry said. "In fact, I'l go get started on that grass