Fortune's Hand by Belva Plain Read Free Book Online Page A

car.”
    â€œOh, but you never got to do your errand.”
    â€œIt’ll wait till tomorrow.”
    Just as they reached Robb’s house, the sky opened up and the rain crashed. He ran inside. He had forgotten the errand anyway.
    That night he dreamed he was on the farm. He was in his room, in his bed near the window, and Lily was lying with him. Somebody was coming up the stairs, only it was not the stairs, it was the ladder up to Ike’s barn, and Ike’s head appeared above the top of it, staring in, the impudent, pop-eyed kid, calling, “Who’s that?”
    â€œWho’s that? Where?”
    â€œThe woman.”
    â€œI’m here, he means me,” said Ellen Grant in her soft voice.
    â€œHer breasts are so white,” Ike said.
    â€œGet out. What do you think you’re doing?” Robb shouted, and woke up.
    It seemed to him that he must actually have cried aloud, waking himself. He was trembling. He looked at the radium dial on the clock: it was a quarter to four, still night. He got up and washed his face in cold water.
    Why am I so distressed? Dreams are only crazy jumbles. You were talking about the farm. You observed today how white her skin was. She said so herself: “I burn so easily.” And Lily was there in his bed as she had been a thousand times. It is all so natural, the usual jumble that has no meaning.
    He was too wide awake to return to sleep, so the best thing to do was to put on the light and study. Butthe sentences passed his eyes and did not register. He should not be having dreams about Ellen Grant! Indeed, he should not be walking around the city with her. It was harmless, yet how would he feel if Lily were doing the same with another man?
    No. He would have to break off decently with Ellen. But what was there to “break off”? Nothing. Nothing at all. Still, there must be no misunderstanding. It would be unfair to drift on with any more pleasant, pointless afternoons.
    When she saw him, she looked at her wristwatch and smiled. “You’re five minutes late. I’ve been waiting.”
    â€œHow did you know I was coming?”
    â€œThe same way I knew yesterday. Do you think I didn’t see it was no coincidence?”
    He laughed, and she went on. “It’s so cool and breezy for a change. Why don’t we put the top down and take a ride into the country?”
    So now it would be impossible to make his little speech today. He would have to postpone it, which would give him time to design the right approach without embarrassment for either of them.
    By the eighth day, he had given up trying to find the right approach because there did not seem to be any. She had taken a place in his mind. Her voice kept echoing. He kept remembering odd scraps of her speech.
That bird just sang like the end of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
She made him see things he would never have noticed, like the remarkable Einstein face of the oldman reading in the park. Or the friendly woman who resembles her Pekingese. She opened his eyes and ears so that he laughed or was touched or curious because of her. No, there was no easy approach. It would have to be done the hard way.
    Sometime in the third week when she left him at his door, she got out of the car and stood beside him on the walk. This was the moment for the kiss that was absurdly long past due. He had not given her as much as a relative’s dry peck on the cheek. Now was the moment to speak out and explain himself, to watch her go away and never see her again. The unthinkable had happened.
    She looked up at him bluntly. “What is it that you’re not telling me, Robb?”
    â€œI’m ashamed to say it,” he answered, very low. “I don’t know how to explain myself. I don’t even know myself.”
    She kept looking at him, appraising him before she spoke again. “You’re shivering. Let’s go inside. Whatever it is, I want to hear it,