The Crossroads Read Online Free PDF

wanted to tell the old man Pete was twenty-eight, and remind the old man what his eldest son was doing at twenty-eight.
    “Pete is good boy, Charlie. You find out sometime.”
    “I told you he’s doing fine, Papa.”
    “Is pretty building to look at, this automobile place?”
    “It’ll be handsome, Papa. Very modern. Nice roof line. It’ll look good from here, and good from the highway. I’ve got to run, Papa.”
    “Careful now on that little red ting.”
    “Sure, Papa.” He straddled the scooter, looked at his father. “When it gets too lonesome up here, there’s room down in my place. You know that.”
    “Lonesome! Who is lonesome? Say, you tell that Mister John Clear not send so much foods up here. Is waste!”
    “All right, Papa.”
    “Trow away some, sometimes.”
    “All right, Papa.”
    He rode down the long hill to the highway, dust kicking up behind him. Talk to Clear about the Pantry. Check with Joan and Nancy about going together to see Papa. But first …
    He rode down to the little row of shops, went into the sundries store and bought cigarettes. And then, casually,self-consciously, he strolled up to the gift shop. The little bell jangled on the door when he went in. Jeana was waiting on a woman with a petulant face and a whining voice. She gave him one quick glance and just before he turned away to look blindly at porcelain horses on a shelf, he saw the way her eyes widened, the blush that touched her throat and cheek.
    Finally the woman bought a nest of Japanese trays. It seemed to take Jeana forever to ring up the sale and wrap the package. The door jingled as the customer left.
    “Hello,” he said.
    Her mouth seemed to tremble. Her lovely eyes had dancing lights in them. “Some new merchandise came in that you might like to see, Mr. Drovek. I was just unwrapping it.”
    She walked ahead of him out into the storeroom, walking tautly, demurely, without her usual fluid young grace. As soon as they were in the storeroom she whirled and came tiptoe tall into his arms, whispering, “Darling, darling, darling.” They kissed with a searching hunger, and she blended herself sweetly against him with the long shivering sighings of a woman in love. He felt all the long warm textures of her back, kneading the warmths of her with blunt strong hands, clean fragrance of her hair against his nostrils. Dizzied by her, so aware of his need of her, he turned her almost roughly, forced her back against a hip-high pile of packing cases. For crazy moments she responded to him, moving and straining against him, then pushed against his chest in half-panic, saying, “No, no, no, darling!”
    He moved back from her, breathing deeply. Her eyes were round and wide, her lips parted, hair disordered, lipstick smeared. “How mad can we get?” she asked. “Honestly!”
    “Sorry. I guess.”
    “Probably not as sorry as we should be. Or could be, if we get that far out of hand.” She moved over to a mirror, pulled a light chain. She took a comb from the shelf and, with her back to him, began to pull it throughher light fine hair. “Very animal,” she said with a trace of smugness.
    He moved beside her and put his hand on the dainty flexuous incurve of her waist, felt her shiver again under his touch.
    “Darling,” she said and pushed his hand away. “I’m puffing like a toy furnace. I’ve got to face the public.”
    He leaned against the wall and watched her repair her mouth. “Lovely,” he said.
    She made a face at him and sobered instantly, “Chip, darling.”
    “What now?”
    “Maybe this is all it is. Just this wonderful hunger. And being so good together.”
    “You know better than that.”
    “All the rest is rationalization. It’s just an animal thing. The moment you’re near me.”
    “Rare moments. Now we better start thinking of when and how.”
    “I know how,” she said primly.
    “Provocative wench. You know what I mean.”
    “You’ve turned me into a very bawdy shameless