Whipple's Castle by Thomas Williams Read Free Book Online

right,” he said.
    â€œDo you want something to eat? I left the macaroni and cheese on the oven door.”
    â€œI could make some popcorn,” Kate said. “Anybody want some popcorn?”
    â€œGluh,” David said.
    â€œThat would be nice,” Henrietta said. “And we all could sit in the living room in front of the fire.”
    They all thought of Harvey Whipple. Father. Horace looked at each of their faces. Kate thought it might be a good idea. David showed no opinion one way or the other. Wood disapproved.
    â€œI’ve got some reading to do,” Wood said.
    â€œWhy can’t you make an effort?” Henrietta said.
    Wood was embarrassed; it was not like him to give excuses, and here he had been caught. Horace watched, with a sense of comfort, the inevitable triumph of Wood’s duty. “All right,” Wood said.
    â€œWho could be hungry?” David said.
    â€œHorace is hungry. He ought to come downstairs and be with the family. This is a family!” Henrietta was getting angry. She took off her glasses and wiped them on some loose cloth at her chest, and as she put them back to her dark face it seemed they were her eyes, and her eyes returned to her face.
    â€œYou do things because you ought to, for somebody else once in a while!”
    They all thought of Harvey Whipple in his chair, down there in front of the fire, and of his white, violent face that would be the center of their attention, as though it were the center of light in the high room. They could look at the fire, but always they would be forced to turn away from the flames and to look at the cold light of that face. Pocked by his eyes, white like the moon.
    â€œYour father,” Henrietta said.
    â€œWell, why doesn’t he act like one?” Wood said.
    â€œOnly young people can act,” Henrietta said, “because they don’t have anything to lose. It’s easy for them to be generous. Try it when you see the end of your life coming up. He can’t see any hope, don’t you know that?”
    Horace felt bad for his father, yet he believed the best thing was to stay away from him as long as possible, the way you rested when you were sick, so that you could heal better.
    â€œHe knows you avoid him,” Henrietta said.
    â€œWell, he ought to know why,” Wood said.
    â€œHe knows why, but it doesn’t help.”
    â€œHe asks for trouble. He picks away until he finds some,” Wood said.
    â€œOh, I don’t like any of you when you’re like this!” Henrietta took off her glasses and wiped them again, and they all stared at the brown hollows of her eyes, where tiny glints showed like pieces of glass. “Oh, oh!” she said. Wood stepped over and put his arm around her, but she jerked her shoulders and he dropped his arm. He remained next to her, though, leaning over almost as though he meant to threaten her.
    She adjusted her glasses and stood with her shoulders squared, defiantly. No one said anything for too long a time. Horace’s jaw ached, but he had no words he dared say. Kate still held his arm in her lap, and she squeezed it, as if she were asking him to say something. But he couldn’t. He looked to Wood, who would know what to do, but Wood’s face had grown stem and quiet. The snow, in a gust of wind around the eaves, ticked at the windows and then moved away. It was David who spoke first.
    â€œShall we go down?” David said. “Shall we descend, ladies and gentlemen?”

2
    Harvey sat in his wheelchair, pretending for a moment that he was not its prisoner, and grasped the carved edge of his thick oak table. Firelight, reflected by the brass bowls and inflorescences of the chandelier, by the round mirror on the wall next to the dining room, by the curved lights of the bay window and other dark, polished surfaces, flickered warmly across the glassy oak. This was the place to sit—in this rich, ornate room he had