The Diary by Eileen Goudge Read Free Book Online Page B

we’re in now.”
    â€œDon’t even think it.” Emily replaced the poker in the fireplace stand with a loud clang. “Nothing’s going to happen to either of us. I won’t allow it. If we weren’t around, who would take care of Mom?”
    Sarah wondered what their mother would have had to say about their reading her diary. Would she have seen it as an invasion of privacy—was that why she’d kept the journal hidden away all these years? Or would she have been relieved to know the truth was finally coming out? Something else occurred to Sarah just then, something so dreadful it sent a jolt through her. “I wonder if Dad knew,” she said.
    â€œAbout AJ, you mean?”
    Sarah nodded, feeling a little sick. “Didn’t they all go to school together? And you know how it is in small towns. People talk.”
    Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. You’re right—he must have known. Poor Dad.” She shook her head pityingly.
    â€œAnd to think of his never letting on all those years.” It was almost more than Sarah could bear to contemplate.
    â€œSo you think he married her knowing she was in love with another man?”
    Sarah thoughtfully fingered a page of the diary. “Since he can’t answer that, there’s only one way to find out.” Reluctantly, part of her still not wanting to know, she turned to the next entry.

CHAPTER FOUR
    J ULY 18, 1951
    Dear Diary ,
    I stopped by AJ’s grandparents’ house today. I knew I wouldn’t find him there, but I wanted to know if there was a number or an address where I could reach him. Ever since he took off, I’ve been going a bit mad wondering if the reason I haven’t heard from him is because he’s still angry with me, deep down, or maybe upset because I didn’t give him proper credit for saving me from drowning. Or, worse, if it’s because he was in an accident. Isn’t that the silliest thing? Imagining him laid up in a hospital with broken bones, or possibly in a coma, just because he hasn’t called or written? Goodness! What a swelled head I have! Maybe that caricature he did of me was the real Elizabeth Harvey after all, and I’m just put out because he’s not falling all over me like every other guy. As for his pulling me out of the drink, I’m sure he’d say it was only what anyone would’ve done. Hardly the act of a lovesick man. Even if he had a crush on me at one time, it’s foolish to think he’s still pining for me .
    On the other hand, it seemed like we had a true connection. I’m not sure I can explain it. But I felt it. I think AJ did, too. If only I could talk to him again! There’s so much I want to know .
    Elizabeth frowned at the steno pad propped next to her typewriter. Shorthand had never been her strong suit, and she was having trouble deciphering what she’d jotted down in her boss’s office just minutes ago. Something about a consignment … or shipment … to a retail outlet in Peoria. Or was it Porterville? She heaved a sigh, glaring at the old Royal as if it were to blame. Which was easier than having to knock on Mr. Arno’s office door and ask nicely if he’d mind terribly repeating it one more time, knowing her boss wasn’t one to suffer fools gladly. Besides, Mr. Arno was a busy man. He ran Arno Fashions, the largest manufacturer of women’s hats west of the Mississippi, which employed more than two hundred workers. The only reason she’d gotten this job was because Mr. Arno had owed her mother a favor: She had introduced him to his wife some thirty years ago. Certainly it wasn’t because Elizabeth was a crack secretary, despite her diploma from Masterson Secretarial College in Lincoln. She had the capacity to become a whiz at shorthand and typing if she were to apply herself, but, in all honesty, her heart wasn’t in it.
    Her fondest wish was to become a