What if I Fly? by Jayne Conway Read Free Book Online Page A

into the windows.
    “See the bars still on the basement windows?” she continued. “The slave traders would drop anchor in the harbor down there,” she indicated the nearby water, “and the slaves that were to be sold to local families were brought here and cleaned up before they were delivered to their owners.”
    Will turned toward her, his eyes bright with curiosity.
    “How do you know all of this?”
    “Bristol 101 is a mandatory class,” she shrugged, her face serious. “You can’t live here without taking it.” Will smiled and she continued, “I’m also a history major at NYU, so it goes with the territory.”
    “I went to Portsmouth Abbey. They didn’t offer that class.”
    The Abbey? He must live across the harbor on Poppasquash, which would explain why she’s never seen him before. What is he doing in a local theater production? People on Poppasquash hardly ever made their way into town.
    Will slowly made his way around the house, looking at it from different angles. She studied him as he investigated, and he seemed genuinely interested.
    “Downtown was my classroom. When I was a student at Colt School my teacher used to take us on walking tours of town and give us local history lessons. I think she’s the reason I love studying the past. Everything has a story.”
    What’s his story? she wondered.
    “How about I buy your ice cream and you tell me more? You have me curious,” Will said, extending his hand. Surprised, she nodded and they shook hands to seal the deal.
    It wasn’t long before they approached the dock where the homemade ice cream shop had opened the previous summer, in her estimation, the best addition to downtown in years. To their right, a large stone warehouse was in the process of being converted into restaurants and shops.
    “This building was owned by the DeWolfs, one of the most powerful families in Rhode Island back in the day. They were slave traders. See these stones? They’re from Africa, used as ballast on the ships.”
    She ran her hand along the smooth stone exterior of the building and explained that during the height of the ‘Triangular Trade’ rum was made in this warehouse from the sugar brought from the West Indies and exchanged for the slaves.
    “The shackles used to hold the ships ‘cargo’ are still attached to the basement walls,” she shivered. “It gives me the creeps.”
    “I had no idea,” his voice trailed off as he inspected the building. Will walked in a slow circle, “I’ve lived here my whole life…” he paused and turned to her, “It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.”
    “History is everywhere, Will,” Julia laughed. “I’m happy to be your guide!”
     
    They walked along Thames Street eating their ice cream, and Will guided her into Rockwell Park, a tiny square on the harbor with a few swings, a slide and a couple of stone benches. It’s also home to a dock with several boat slips, all residents anchored for the evening.
    The sky was clear and the stars shone bright, a light breeze blowing in from Narragansett Bay. She heard the faint sound of music from the eighties cover band playing at Gulliver’s, the local watering hole.
    It was a perfect summer night.
    Will licked the ice cream dripping down the side of his cone while they sat on the boat launch at the end of the dock. Julia slipped off her sandals, dangled her feet in the water and shivered.
    It was early June and the water was still cold, and she wished she’d grabbed her jean jacket out of the car before they walked downtown. She was wearing a sleeveless white cotton sundress, with a thin brown suede belt and the beaded necklace she made the previous year.
    Tucking her long hair behind her ears in a futile attempt to tame her unruly curls, she leaned back on her elbows and sighed, looking at the night sky.
    Julia glanced sideways at Will. In his khaki shorts, white polo shirt and flip-flops, with his hair blowing in the breeze, he looked like he’d just