Anger by May Sarton Read Free Book Online Page B

… and need your kisses. I love you. But, Ned, we hardly know each other. We have talked so much, we have given each other our lives—that has been wonderful, all the doors open suddenly, such a deep real exchange. And yet we don’t know each other. Can you understand?” And she signed it simply “Anna,” not as she had wanted impulsively to do, “Your Anna.” Not yet.
    The letter was delivered to Ned’s office by messenger. For he was sure to call and it was absolutely necessary that he read it first.
    At six that evening Ned called, “Anna, it’s been a wild day here and I’m only just home. I didn’t want to call you from the office.”
    Anna was silent. She waited because she was frozen with anxiety. “Did my letter reach you?” she managed to utter.
    â€œYes. Anna, will you come and spend the weekend with me in Beverly? I have a house near the shore there.” It was said in such a brisk assured voice that Anna couldn’t help laughing.
    â€œThe president of the State Street Trust has made a decision!”
    â€œDon’t tease me. Please come.”
    â€œThat’s the day after tomorrow,” for a second she hesitated. “All right.”
    â€œGood. I’ll pick you up on Friday at half-past five. Wear old clothes.”
    When she put the phone down, Anna realized that two days would be a very long time. And then she smiled. This amazing man had not uttered a word of love. But he had, she admitted with admiration, answered her letter with action, the one necessary action. And swept her quite neatly and decisively off her feet.
    But if she had been nervous about being in his territory in “a foreign land” as she had said to her mother, Anna was amazed to find that she felt at home from the moment they walked into the small cosy house and she helped Ned stow food away. The gardener had turned the heat up so it was not the chill house she had dreaded, and besides that it was full of charm, old blue and white china, copper jugs on a side table, some old-fashioned water colors of the shore, that looked like Sargents.
    â€œHere, you arrange them,” Ned said, handing her a box of yellow roses, “There’s a tall Steuben glass somewhere.… Oh, I know, in the corner cupboard there … you’ll find it.”
    He was being efficient and quick. She liked the way he did things, liked it that they had crossed the threshold in an impersonal hurry to get sorted out. For now they were alone really for the first time—except on the swan boat!—it was healthy to have a lot to do before the momentous fact that they were alone could overwhelm.
    â€œThere,” Ned said coming into the living room, “I’ll light the fire and then show you your room—when you come down there’ll be a drink. What shall it be?”
    â€œScotch, please, with a little water,” Anna said as she brought the roses in and set them on a small table. “Oh smell, Ned! Isn’t that delicious?” As he bent down to smell, Anna’s heart missed a beat as a rush of longing to kiss the back of his neck took hold of her, but she didn’t. It was a little like being in the middle of a piece of music that must be allowed to continue without interruption until … until …
    â€œWell, come along then,” Ned said, picking up her suitcase, “Hey, what have you got in here? It’s heavy as lead.”
    â€œScores, Ned. You said there was a piano—at the last minute I put in some songs!”
    â€œWonderful …” and then without further ado he was running up the stairs, and leading Anna into a small room with yellow walls and a comfortable looking small bed. “There’s a bathroom,” Ned said, opening a door. “I’m afraid it’s rather Spartan, though. Paul and I lived here for a while … not very feminine, is it?” He smiled rather shyly. “I