Sleeping Beauty by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online

getting lost in other people’s stories. She had a lot of things to do with her days; in fact, she was going to be so busy she wouldn’t have any time to go to the clearing in the forest. Amy wouldn’t miss her. Amy was gone. I guess I’ve gotten too old for Amy, she thought.
    She never went to the forest again.
    Marian was delighted; she thought Anne was finally learning to be a lady. That week and the next, at Saks and Marshall Field’s and The Pompeian Shop, they bought cashmere sweater sets and matching wool skirts, plaid wool dresses with little velvet collars, tweed slacks and coordinated Aran knit sweaters, and because Anne didn’t argue about anything and Marian was beginning to be alarmed and wanted to make her smile, new blue jeans and oversize sweatshirts and a corduroy jacket lined with fleece.
    â€œThank you,” Anne said gravely when the shopping was all finished. “These are very nice things.”
    Marian peered at her. “You’re all right, aren’t you, Anne? You look fine; it’s just that you’re so quiet. Is there anything else you need? Anything we forgot to buy?”
    Anne shook her head.
    â€œYou’re supposed to be happy, you know,” Marian said. “Thirteen, almost fourteen: such a wonderful time for a young girl. Your whole life ahead of you, nothing to think about but having a good time, family, friends, love . . .” She sighed. “Of course you’ve seen that Fred and I aren’t exactly romantic. You’re such a smart girl; you don’t miss very much, do you? It’s not that we fight, you know; sometimes I wish we would. But there doesn’t seem to be anything to fight about. Or talk about, for that matter. We just don’t have anything to say to each other. Talking is more important than anything, you know: more important than sex, God knows. Oh, for goodness’ sake, I shouldn’t be talking about such things to you.” She gave a little laugh. “You mustn’t be burdened with any of this now; this is a time for you to be young and innocent. Innocence.” She shook her head. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”
    Someone else had said that.
    Good little Anne, terrific little Anne. Such a good student. But you couldn’t have a better teacher, could you? You don’t know how lucky you are.
    â€œHow lucky am I?” Anne demanded of Marian. “Like being lucky at cards? Like being a lucky penny somebody can pick up? Or like somebody has the luck of the devil? Is that what I have—the luck of the devil?”
    â€œDon’t be difficult, dear,” Marian said calmly. “We all know how clever you are.”
    They all said she was clever. They said it whenever one of them chastised her for being out too long, for slouching when she walked and slumping when she sat, for dressing sloppily, for not combing her hair, for swearing and using slang, for not washing her face and hands. “You’re so clever, Anne,” said her uncle William. “You’re smart as a whip and you could be the prettiest girl for miles around, but first you’ve got to stop behaving like a hobo.”
    William was the second oldest of Ethan’s five children, after Charles. He had never married, and he seemed to feel that was a serious error; that, by being single and childless, he’d let his family down and had to make up for it by being a model uncle to his nieces and nephews. For the most part that meant bringing them presents from his trips around the world, but he also was generous with advice. “You want to watch yourself for Gail’s sake,” he told Anne. “You have a seven-year-old sister, you want to act properly so she can follow your example. We all have to have someone to look up to.”
    â€œDo you look up to my father?” Anne asked.
    â€œI’ve learned a lot from your father.”
    â€œAnd he looks up to