A Star for Mrs. Blake by April Smith Read Free Book Online

far away as Somerset from others who were unable to make the trip, and the white-ribboned pile began to grow, as they asked her to bring back a bag of French soil, lay rocks and read poems, sing Johnny’s favorite song, say a prayer, write a travelogue, go on the radio.
    She even got a send-off by the Martha Washington Benevolent Society at the Odd Fellows Hall. They gave her a bouquet of pink car-nationsand multicolored gladioluses from Mrs. Healy’s garden, plus a travel bag filled with toilet articles and accessories, handkerchiefs, and a sewing kit—presented by Essie Jordan herself. Punch and angel cake were served.
    She had already said goodbye to Big Ole Uncle Percy the day before. He’d been going over to Sunset to put in windows for some summer people. Yes, they were both glad of the cash. When he raised a hand in farewell and started down the road for the twelve-mile hike to the job, Cora realized that despite his bulk and outlaw reputation, Big Ole Uncle Percy was shy. It made her smile. He hadn’t come back that night, which she half expected.
    The morning of her departure she cooked rolled oats for breakfast with the last of the sugar—her going-away treat for the girls. School would soon be out for the summer—that was a load off her mind. All they had to do was not drown in the Lily Pond or fall out of a tree. Once again she’d gone over her list of warnings and instructions.
    “Now, your dad will be working over in Sunset, which means sometimes he might not get back in time for supper—”
    “Sometimes?”
Sarah said, with an emphatic eye roll.
    “But he still has to be fed, so remember to leave a covered dish. And if he doesn’t come back for a couple of days, it’s because he’s up north fishing,” she’d said, hoping they hadn’t heard otherwise. “Even if your dad’s not around, a dozen people know to look out for you, but if you’re
really
worried about him, go down to the shop and ask Lester King his whereabouts—”
    Laura patted her wrist. “It’s okay, Aunt Cora.”
    Kathleen, the little one, nodded solemnly. “We can handle our dad.”
    Cora held back a smile. “Good.”
    There was no help for it. They’d have to fend for themselves. As she stood on the porch watching them scramble down the rocks clutching their books, she knew—in that place in her gut where she knew what she knew—that her girls would be all right.
    “Aunt Cora! Come down, you got to see!”
they were calling, but suddenly she felt weepy and strangely paralyzed. A moment ago she’dbeen elated. Now her feet would not move toward the steps. Linwood and his truck all gleaming down on Main Street meant that she was really leaving home.
    “You come up here, Lin!” she called instead.
    The stonecutter’s cottages were built up high, with no access from the street, but Linwood strode easily over the granite outcrops and patches of chickweed, surefooted despite his size, from climbing over stone walls and across fields. He’d recently been promoted to the head of a survey crew assigned to map the soils in Penobscot County, which entitled him to transportation. The blue truck belonged to the government, but government workers had to go by a strict gas allowance, which would not have covered the trip to Bangor. A collection was begun to get Cora Blake to the train station, but it had come up short—and Linwood Moody had to make some inventive arrangements in order to make up the difference.
    “You look smart,” he said when he’d reached the porch.
    “Liar,” she mocked gently. “Haven’t gotten any sleep in a week.”
    She was wearing the dress she’d sewn for the trip. It was soft and feminine, made of light heather-gray wool that fell to the ankle, with a natural waist and a scalloped collar of white eyelet. Cora was afraid it was too fancy, but everybody said that’s what they’re wearing in Paris—certainly not a housedress! She’d also been given a burgundy silk chemise on loan from a