The Rake Read Online Free PDF

watched it all from her seat in the stands, looking down at the student powerhouses engaged in yielding authority, and assuming authority—early training in democratic discipline? After the preliminaries, Reuben was sworn in. He gave a five-minute speech on the moral responsibility of college students to be active in the development of national policy. Henri cheered and applauded as Reuben promised the end of the Vietnam War, a repeal of the Sentinel missile emplacements, expeditedstudent loans, and the elevation of water hockey to NCAA status. “As for my predecessor”—he had turned to Sally Paulsen, seated alongside—“let’s cheer that she’s a girl—and won’t ever have to fly off to fight an illegal war in Vietnam.”
    All eyes turned to the outgoing chairman with the wrestler’s build, an ardent supporter of Lyndon Johnson and the Vietnam War. Henri found herself relieved when, after an instant’s dramatic deliberation, Sally laughed. Henri laughed in turn: it would have been a memorable scene if, taking offense, Sally had sprung from her seat and lunged at Reuben. Sally was captain of the UND women’s volleyball team.
    Then the moment came for the station wagon and the red ribbons, and the mystery guest. He turned out to be the aged campus hero Bronson Reid, Class of 1911. Reid had been an Olympic athlete the year after graduating, but now he had trouble stepping out of the car.
    It was a heady couple of hours. By eight o’clock, half of the skating rink had been covered with squares of plywood, turning it into a dance floor. The big brassy UND band gave way to a rock band, and the undergraduates filled the rink with their gyrations. It didn’t hurt that beer was somehow getting around. Sally Paulsen, freed of formal responsibilities as chairman of the Student Council, offered toast after solemn toast in honor of Kurt Reuger.

CHAPTER 5
    Grand Forks/Letellier, November 1969
    After the football game, Reuben led Henri to the gateway and out to the station wagon, which he laid claim to, even though it wasn’t quite yet Sunday. He suggested they pop over to the Hop See for a nightcap, but Henri kissed him and said she was going home. “I’m tired. We’ll have a good day tomorrow. A special day. I promise.” She kissed him again, and walked away toward her dorm.
    She went to Mass at Saint Michael’s Church at nine. When she came out, Reuben was there with the sparkling station wagon he had himself washed and waxed. He was standing by the passenger door, leaning back against the car, dressed in a blue sweater and chinos, as usual jaunty and cocked for action, whether pleasurable or professional, and often he didn’t see a difference between the two.
    He didn’t know it, but it would be a grave day for him—and for her. She had planned all the details as carefully as a general would plan an amphibious landing. But she had not acted alone. She had prayed for guidance and was resolved now on the correctness of her plans.
    So where would they go in their official car, this sunny November day? Henrietta spoke quietly but with unmistakable resolution. “I told you, honey. Three days ago. I want to go to Letellier. It’s ten miles across the border in Manitoba. I explained that to you.”
    â€œOh, yes. That’s where your mom was from.”
    â€œYes. And where I was born.”
    They drove off, and Reuben settled the car down at sixty miles per hour as they headed up the Red River Valley. Reuben liked to play the date game, which was making the rounds on campus among the livelier students. “So that was 1948, the year you were born. What else happened in 1948 that was news-worthy?”
    â€œWell, let’s see.” Henri rolled the window up, to hear better. “That was the year the Communists made a big bid for power in Italy.”
    â€œAnd in France.”
    â€œWell, yes. And in France. Was I