Heart Troubles by Stephen; Birmingham Read Free Book Online

the ground. “So this is—sort of to say good-by. And thank you for everything.”
    â€œBut the fifteenth is a week away!”
    â€œI know, but—well, I have to pack and everything.”
    â€œI’ll miss you.”
    â€œThat’s sweet of you. I’ll always think of—well, of this, when I think of Maine.”
    â€œYou can’t get used to it, can you?”
    â€œMaine? Oh, yes. At least I’m beginning to. But after all—it’s such a little town, this place. Five hundred people! I mean, there just can’t be more than one or two intelligent people in a town of only five hundred people. Let’s see,” she said, counting the people off on her fingertips, “in addition to Mother and Father—who probably shouldn’t count anyway—there’s just been you and Freddy. That’s all.”
    â€œSometimes one or two are enough.”
    â€œOh, don’t get me wrong—I’m beginning to love it. I’m beginning to love the hack matacks, and the tam aracks, and I can tell poison ivy from arbutus and woodbine from coreopsis! I’ve learned so much this summer. You’ve taught me so much …”
    â€œBotany is just a hobby with me, pet,” Mr. Fiedler said with a little smile. “I’m afraid I’ve bored you with it.”
    â€œ Bored? Do you think I’d have kept dropping over and dropping over if I’d been bored? I’ve been fascinated—ever since I first came short-cutting home through your oak grove and said, ‘What pretty maple trees!’”
    â€œI thought you were a dryad,” he said. “I could give you a course in Maine wildlife, too. Which reminds me, we’ve never had our bird walk.”
    â€œOh, I know. I’m sorry. Next summer, maybe.” She was holding the white socks in a little ball in her hand. Reaching down, she stuffed the ball inside one of the boots. “You’ve opened whole new horizons for me this summer,” she said. “You really have.”
    â€œI’d like to teach you more.” Mr. Fiedler said. He leaned forward in his chair. “Poetry, for instance.” Smiling at her, he said in a soft voice:
    â€œCe n’est plus une ardeur dans mes veines cachée:
    C’est Vénus toute entière à sa proie attachée …”
    â€œWhat is that?” she asked him.
    â€œRacine.”
    â€œFreddie writes poetry, did you know that? He writes sonnets. He told me that today.”
    Mr. Fiedler stirred in his chair and crossed his long legs. He looked down at Dolores’ bare feet. Her toenails were lacquered a pale pink. “Love in bloom,” he said.
    â€œOh, nonsense!”
    â€œHe’s very handsome.”
    â€œDo you think so?”
    â€œYes.” Mr. Fiedler looked up and studied carefully the expression on the girl’s face. There were delicate lines he noticed, particularly about the mouth and eyes, squint lines from the sun like fine wrinkles in brown tissue paper. “I’m having a cold lobster tonight,” he said. “Would you join me for supper?”
    â€œNo, I couldn’t. Mother expects me back for dinner at seven.”
    â€œI’m not going to accept that excuse much longer.”
    â€œI’m afraid you’ll have to while Mother’s Mother. Thanks, anyway.”
    Martha came to the door. “Do you want anything for the young lady?” she asked.
    â€œPlease just have a Coke,” said Mr. Fiedler. “It would make me feel so much better.”
    â€œAll right.”
    â€œAnd another Scotch for me, Martha.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    When Martha had gone back into the house, Mr. Fiedler crinkled his nose confidentially and said, “Do you think she’s a spy? Do you think she’s spying on me? She’s always poking about and sticking her nose in on me whenever I have a caller. I think Louise—”
    â€œHush,