Follow Me by Joanna Scott Read Free Book Online

walk through the town. She thought about stopping at the beauty parlor
     to have her hair done, but she had no money.
    On weekends when it was hot, Sally accompanied Georgie and her boy to wade in a swimming hole near the spot where Swill and
     Mason had found her the day after she’d run away from home. They watched the parade in town on the Fourth of July. And once
     Mason drove them to a country fair, where they watched barrel races and horse auctions. That was the best day of all. It happened
     to be Sally’s seventeenth birthday, a fact she kept secret. But instead of feeling sorry for herself, she felt relieved to
     have put the last year behind her.
    During the week, Georgie worked long days at the factory. She couldn’t be blamed if she didn’t have the energy to straighten
     up around the house. Sally, who felt ready to explode from boredom, spent the lonely hours setting things in order for Georgie,
     dusting her collection of ceramic animals on the shelves in the living room, washing the windows and the kitchen floor. When
     she saw how grateful Georgie was for her effort, Sally grew more ambitious. She washed the dirty laundry and hung it on the
     line. She found a screwdriver and tightened the loose knobs on the doors. After finding a can of white paint in the basement,
     she sanded and painted the flaking porch rail. She took apart a window sash and attached a weight to the cord. She filled
     a pail with raspberries from the bushes out back and boiled them down to jam.
    Georgie never asked her to leave and never complained to her about staying there. Swill hardly came by at all. He’d wait to
     see the boy when Georgie dropped him off at his house for his wife to babysit. Weeks had passed, and Sally had only heard
     of the woman who was Swill’s wife and Steven’s grandmother — she never seemed to leave her own house. But Uncle Mason stopped
     by to visit Sally most mornings, and Sally found herself looking forward to the company. He wouldn’t say much. He’d usually
     bring his pipe, and he’d spend a long time tamping the tobacco. Often, he wouldn’t even bother to light it.
    All summer long, Sally Werner stayed at Georgie’s house. At the beginning of September, little Stevie started school. Nights
     turned colder, and the chirping of the crickets grew weaker. Sally would have liked a second blanket, but she didn’t bother
     to ask because she guessed that Georgie didn’t have an extra to spare. And then one morning early in October she woke up from
     a restless sleep. Noticing a different quality of light in the room, she lifted the blind and saw snow on the ground — a light
     dusting shining like glitter inside the bottle of a winter scene.
    I’ve b-b-been thinking,” Uncle Mason said later that day, chewing on his pipe.
    Sally rocked fast in the chair on the porch. She had on an old wool jacket Georgie had lent her, though the snow had already
     melted, and the sun was saturating the earth with a velvety warmth.
    “Now hear m-me out.” Uncle Mason leaned back against the porch rail, drawing creaks from it as he shifted his weight. He stared
     off at something over Sally’s right shoulder and stayed quiet for so long that Sally thought he’d forgotten what he’d been
     wanting to say. And then it came out all at once: He had a home that n-n-needed tending. Sally didn’t have a home to g-g-go
     to. She couldn’t stay there with Georgie. Why, then, d-d-didn’t she come stay with Mason for a while?
    “You,” she began in shock, trying to gather words in response to the offense. “You…”
    “Me?”
    If he thought she would, if he wanted…
    “I d-d-don’t understand.”
    “Are you asking me to marry you?”
    At this, the old man nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter. “Oh!” he cried, holding his belly, reminding Sally of her father
     when he was measuring the effects of a good meal. “Oh!” he howled, overcome with amusement. “Oh, good Lord. Oh, girlie. Oh,
     oh,