A Bird's Eye by Cary Fagan Read Free Book Online Page A

Magic is the best, but it’s hardly intended for someone your age.”
    â€œI want to see it, please.”
    â€œWe’ll just write down the Dewey number. And now to the books.”
    She swung the flashlight beam to the carpet and led us to the shelves. She leaned down and ran her finger along the spines until she pulled out a small, thick volume. Standing again, she put it in my hands. The author was listed as “Professor Hoffmann.” The book fell open to a small picture, an engraving of a hand lifting up a pan to reveal flames rising from inside. I read the words underneath. Borrowed rings and live dove produced from an omelet .
    â€œCan I take it home?”
    â€œUnfortunately, it’s a reference copy, which means that it doesn’t circulate. You have to use it in the library. But I’ll tell you what. I’ve got some work that I can do. You sit down and read for an hour. I can give you paper and a pencil if you want to make notes. And afterwards, I’ll keep it at my desk and you can come in during regular hours. Would that do?”
    â€œYes, miss, thank you.”
    â€œAnd what is your name?”
    â€œBenjamin.”
    â€œVery good, Benjamin. I am Miss Pensler. You sit over here. I think we can risk turning on one reading lamp.”
    At the desk, I turned one page after another. What I saw was too wonderful, and too much to take in.

My uncle’s intention may not have been to keep his sister a prisoner in their home, but the effect didn’t look much different to me. The visits of Tobias Whitaker, accompanying her brother home, were at least a break from the monotony of her days, but it wasn’t as if she enjoyed them much. Mr. Whitaker was attentive to her, often bringing a box of chocolates or a bouquet or even the latest copy of Picture Play or True Story , which he supposed she might like. He looked pale as a china dish to me, whenever I saw him (Hannah slipping me the chocolates), like some kind of cold-blooded animal needing to borrow another creature’s warmth.
    One early evening, Mr. Whitaker appeared at the door. Hayim was still at the factory — he kept long hours — and she had dismissed the maid in order to be alone. She stood holding it open to the cold evening air. Here was Hayim’s friend, weaving a little from drink and crumpling his handsome hat in his hand.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Mr. Whitaker, but my brother is out.”
    â€œI’ve already been to see him. And now I’ve come to see you, if that’s all right.”
    â€œOf course.” She felt the flush of her cheeks. Her brother had always encouraged her to be friendly to Mr. Whitaker, and now he was coming to see her by himself. She ushered him into the sitting room, walking slowly so as to make her limp less noticeable. But it was his own nervousness that alarmed her, how he fiddled and looked anxiously about and licked his lips. She sat first and he perched across from her on a silk settee.
    â€œThe maid has gone out, but I could make some tea.”
    â€œOh no, don’t bother. Perhaps I could just take myself a small drink.”
    â€œOf course.”
    She watched as he went to the side table and poured himself a glass of Seagram’s. He drank it down and sat again.
    â€œForgive me, Miss Kleeman. Hannah. I have been trying all evening to fortify my courage, you might say. And now I must say what I’ve come for.”
    He stood up and startled her by immediately dropping to his knees, his hands flailing. She could see his red hair was thinning, which made her feel more warmly towards him. He reached up and grabbed her hands.
    â€œPlease, Mr. Whitaker.”
    â€œNo, I won’t let go. I’ve been captured by your sweetness, your goodness. These visits are the highlight of my days. I wake up each morning thinking of you.”
    â€œYou’re being horrible to me. I didn’t think you were like that. When my brother gets