What Love Sees by Susan Vreeland Read Free Book Online Page B

incessantly about college. Jean swam laps, climbed out at the far end of the pool and lay down out of earshot on the narrow strip of coping between the pool and the grass. The hot cement warmed her stomach and the sun dried her back. It was comforting. More than the water separated her from them. She’d never really be one of them, no matter what Father or Mother would do. She knew why Father had the pool built, so friends would come to visit her on her own home territory, where she could move freely. No other Hill family had a pool. Oh yes, Father could do a lot to build a nice little world for her here, but he couldn’t get her admitted to a school.
    It would be wonderful to be going away to school, to live with other girls, go to mixers at boys’ schools, be out in the world, dance. She was a good dancer. Following somebody’s lead was easy. A cloud went by and she felt gooseflesh on the back of her legs. Of course she’d have to study there, but that was okay. She could get along.
    From across the water someone must have said something funny—she didn’t know what—and the girls laughed. All their lives were expanding. Hers wasn’t. Maybe never would. She turned her face in the opposite direction.
    The next day a letter came from the Masters School in Dobbs Ferry. Mother had been writing to prep schools, finishing schools, universities, anywhere that might take her. Mother’s voice fell when she read the response. “Although we realize that Jean Treadway would be an able candidate for our school, we regret that we are unable to accommodate a young lady in her position.”
    Why don’t they just say it? Blind. She heard Mother fold up the letter and put it back in the envelope.
    “Well, at least they were polite,” Mother said flatly.
    “Careful, I’d call it,” Jean said. “Was that the last one?”
    “The last I wrote to, but maybe an education editor of some magazine, Vogue maybe, would know of some smaller school that might be more flexible. I’ll keep writing.”
    Jean wandered through the house and out to the verandah. The humidity hung heavy. Like time, she thought. She lifted her hair from the nape of her neck where it felt sticky. Then she let it flop down again and her shoulders sagged. She knew she was a problem now that high school was over. Of course she probably could go back to Bristol High. They hadn’t given her a diploma so she hadn’t officially graduated. No, that would be too humiliating. And she still wouldn’t be able to do math and science. So here it was, the great family dilemma—what to do with Jean. She came back inside and sat at the piano. Her fingers touched the keys without purpose. She wondered what Lorraine was doing. Working, probably. And Icy. She hadn’t seen her for ages.
    Summer inched along. One evening she overheard the family in the library.
    “Her life should be altered as little as possible.”
    “Father, you don’t always have to make her life so normal,” Lucy said. “I wish she could do something special.”
    A lump exploded in her throat. It was a brave thing to say to Father.
    Toward the end of summer, Mother’s voice was urgent when she read the return address, “Andrebrook, Tarrytown-on-Hudson, New York.”
    “What is it?”
    “A small, very small, academic finishing school. ‘Certainly, we are delighted to accept Miss Jean Treadway and expect her to arrive Thursday, September 10, between the hours of two and four in the afternoon. Cordially, Miss Lillian Clark Weaver, Headmistress.’”

Chapter Six
    On September 10, Father directed Vincent, the new chauffeur, to turn the car left into a driveway. Instinctively Jean put out her right hand to brace for the turn. It seemed a long time before the car slowed down.
    “It must be a big place,” she said.
    “Big for a house. Small for a school. It’s set back from the street a long way. Two story, a white colonial,” Father said.
    “I think it’s Greek revival, dear,” Mother