Winter Door Read Online Free PDF Page A

one for clear, perfect weather for the next four days.
    Rage helped Mrs. Johnson from the car when they arrived. She thanked Mrs. Marren, hoping that she would offer to come up to the top of the road in the morning, but Mrs. Marren merely reminded Rage to make sure she was down in time. “I’ll call your uncle if the weather is too bad to go in,” she added.
    The wind had dropped, and on their way up the Johnsons’ path, Mrs. Johnson said, “I visited your mam this morning, Rage. Poor thing looks so weak even after all this time.” The wind gave a shriek as they came onto the verandah, and Mrs. Johnson shuddered. “It fair chills my blood to hear the wind moan like that. Sometimes you could swear it was something alive.”
    She opened the door and held it ajar for Rage, who was carrying Mrs. Johnson’s overnight case and grocery bags as well as her own schoolbag. Entering the familiar, dim-lit hallway with its faded cherry carpet and striped wallpaper, Rage was startled how small and shabby it looked. Nevertheless, she had a strong impulse to turn up the hall and go into the little bedroom she had stayed in when Mam had first been in hospital. Instead, she set down the case and her schoolbag and took the shopping bag into the kitchen, where she began automatically to unpack it.
    “No need to do that, dear,” Mrs. Johnson said, looking pleased and plugging in the teakettle. “Oh well, you do that for me, and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and butter some scones. I don’t suppose your house will be warm with your poor uncle out mending the fences. Mr. Johnson said on the phone that he went out this morning, even though the weather was so bad.”
    “He puts the oil heater in my bedroom on, and the fire will be ready to light,” Rage assured her.
    “Oh, I know your uncle takes fine care of you, no matter what anybody says to the contrary. But I just want to remind you that you are welcome here any time. Truth to tell, I missed you something awful when you left, though you only went back next door. The house felt a mite emptier. Even Mr. Johnson said so.”
    Rage was touched by the thought that the bad-tempered old farmer might have missed her. On the other hand, his missing her could just as easily be something that Mrs. Johnson had dreamed up. Smiling a little, Rage put the milk in the fridge and the apples in a bowl, just as she had done in the past. Then she sat down and gladly wrapped her cold hands around a mug of tea as Mrs. Johnson carried a tray to Mr. Johnson, who was sick in bed.
    Left alone, Rage dug into her pocket and took out Mrs. Somersby’s green form. If she didn’t take it back tomorrow, signed by Uncle Samuel, Mrs. Somersby would telephone. That was the sort of woman she was. If Rage signed it for her uncle, saying they were not interested, there was still a possibility that Mrs. Somersby would ring to argue. Uncle Samuel almost never answered the telephone, but if he was in the kitchen when the call came, it might be awkward saying he wasn’t around.
    Her head began to ache as it always did when her thoughts went in circles for too long. She was glad to have them interrupted by Mrs. Johnson returning and preparing a plate of scones and jam. “It just came to me, Rage, dear. Why don’t you stay for dinner tonight if your uncle is out? I have a nice pie from the bakery in town, and it will be more than enough since poor Henry says he doesn’t feel up to more than broth.”
    Rage hesitated, then shook her head. “I had better not tonight, Mrs. Johnson. I have a lot of homework to do, and Uncle Samuel said he would leave something out for me.”
    “You are a good girl, Rage,” Mrs. Johnson said, passing the scones. “So mature and considerate of other people. You’ve grown up such a lot since you stayed with us. Of course, kiddies do grow up fast when they have to cope with such awful things as you have had to bear, and you were very young for your age.” She blinked and dabbed at the