To Dream Again by Laura Lee Guhrke Read Free Book Online Page A

corners of his mouth as he looked at her. "Though this be madness, yet there is method in it." His smile widened at her skeptical expression. "Hamlet," he added and resumed his search.
    He looked for several moments more but couldn't seem to find it, a fact which did not surprise Mara at all. He turned around, facing the bookshelf beside the window and began to rummage through the books and toys piled there.
    "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed, pulling the tool off one of the shelves. "I knew I'd put it over here somewhere."
    Just then something out the window caught his attention. He stepped closer and looked down into the alley below. Before she could even begin to wonder what he was watching with such fascination, he turned back around and walked past her, thrusting the buttonhook into her hand as he headed for the door. "Thank you again," he said absently. "I have to go out for a moment, but I'll be back. You're welcome to stay if you like."
    He walked out of the room, leaving Mara standing there alone, dumbfounded by his abrupt exit. She walked to the window and looked down. She saw nothing but the empty alley below.
    "Nutty as a fruitcake," she muttered. She took one more glance around the untidy room before following him out the door, but he had disappeared. She went down the stairs to her own flat, wondering again who would agree to have a meeting with a man who was touched in the head.
    She put her buttonhook back in the drawer where it belonged, then made her usual breakfast of tea and toast. As she ate, she wondered if whoever was meeting with her strange neighbor had any idea what he was in for.
     
    ***
     
    When Nathaniel reached the alley, it was empty. The boys were gone. Leaning his back against the brick wall of Mrs. O'Brien's lodging house, he closed his eyes. "Damn."
    He'd seen them through the window, half a dozen of them, surrounding a younger, much smaller boy, and he'd known at once what was happening.
    Laughter rang in his ears, taunting, childish laughter from long ago. His eighth birthday.
    “ G...g...give it b...back! It's m...mine .” He could see himself watching in frustration and rage as a group of older boys, his brother among them, played catch with his birthday gift. They tossed the wooden locomotive from hand to hand, keeping it just out of his reach.
    “ M...mine ,” Adrian had mimicked him, making all the other boys laugh. They had eventually tired of tormenting him, and his brother had smashed the toy against a rock, then the boys had wandered off. Nathaniel could still remember picking up the broken pieces of his birthday present.
    Opening his eyes, he pushed away thoughts of his past. He walked to the other end of the alley and glanced up and down the street, but he could find no trace of the child whom he'd seen the other boys tease so mercilessly.
    He left the alley and returned upstairs to find that Mara had gone. He wasn't surprised. From her manner he could tell that she thought him rather bizarre, but he had long ago ceased to care what other people thought of him.
    He looked down at the toys on the floor, their motion stilled now. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, he rolled up his sleeves and put thoughts of his melancholy neighbor and the tormented little boy out of his mind. He still had work to do if wanted to be ready for his meeting with Mrs. Elliot.
     
    ***
     
    But it seemed that all his work had been for naught. Three hours later, Nathaniel stood in front of Elliot Electrical Motors and stared in disbelief at the neatly lettered sign tacked to the locked front door.
    "With the utmost sadness, we announce the death of our founder, James Samuel Elliot," he read aloud. "In memory, Elliot Electrical will be closed for this 11th day of July, 1889. Business will resume July 12. Direct all inquiries to Mr. Henry Finch, Solicitor, Bloomsbury. A service will be held at nine o'clock this morning, St. Andrew's Church, Houndsditch."
    Nine o'clock. It was certain to be over by now.