Wild Swans by Jessica Spotswood Read Free Book Online Page A

leaned in, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
    I ducked away and laughed. Told him his judgment had obviously been impaired by the beers he’d had at the bonfire. Told him we were friends, best friends, and I didn’t want to screw that up.
    Then I ran inside like a third-grader scared of catching cooties.
    It felt like the right decision then, and now that I’ve met my mother, I’m even more relieved that Alex and I are just friends. I don’t think I could handle any more big changes this summer.
    I pull open the trapdoor in the ceiling and climb the stairs to the widow’s walk. Gracie follows me up. The briny air feels good after the stuffy heat of the attic. The white floorboards shine in the sun, surrounded by a waist-high fence. Gracie slides her starry, pink sunglasses back on, and together we squint out over the Bay.
    I can see across the channel and down to the Garrettsons’ gray house. In the other direction is the old Moudowney place with its red barn and silo. Fields of corn and potatoes and soybeans stretch out like a green-and-gold patchwork quilt. Robert Moudowney was Dorothea’s lover—the one she wrote her most famous love poems about. They were in and out of each other’s houses when they were kids, then grew up and married other people, and then she took to sneaking over to his law office on Queen Street in the afternoons. She wasn’t real discreet about it. Dedicated her last book to him and everything. Granddad used to joke about me and Ian Moudowney getting married, but Ian came out as gay last spring, so that seems unlikely.
    Gracie stares at the sun twinkling on the Bay. “Is that where you go swimming?”
    â€œYep.” I wonder if she knows why Erica won’t let her swim. I point to the brick carriage house in the backyard. “See that little house? That’s where Alex and Luisa live.”
    Gracie twirls a strand of blond hair around her forefinger. “Does he have any brothers or sisters?”
    â€œNope. Just him.”
    Her little mouth twists. “Izzy is a pain, but I’m glad Mama didn’t let her stay in DC. I’d miss her too much.” She scuffs her pink sneakers against the floorboards. “Weren’t you lonely when Mama went to New York?”
    Erica ran away in the middle of the night. Left me in the crib and left a note for Granddad on the kitchen table. Said she just couldn’t do it anymore.
    Did she mean being his daughter?
    Or being my mother?
    Seems like she’s managed just fine with Isobel and Grace.
    Why them and not me? Was there something wrong with me? Something that made her incapable of loving me the way a mother should?
    I thought I was long past wondering why she left. Past wanting her to provide the answers. But her showing up here with Gracie and Isobel has brought back all my old questions. Maybe they were there all along, bobbing right under the surface.
    Gracie’s still waiting for her answer.
    â€œI was real little when your mama left. And I had Granddad and Alex and Luisa. I was okay.” I smile down at her. “But I’m glad you and Isobel are here now.”
    â€œAnd Mama,” Gracie adds.
    â€œAnd Mama,” I agree. But it tastes like a lie.

Chapter
Five
    The moving van comes and goes within the hour. Two burly men cart boxes marked ERICA and IZ and GRACIE up to the second floor. I offer to help my sisters unpack, but Isobel snaps that they can do it themselves and practically slams the door in my face. The house feels as if it’s holding its breath in the calm before a storm, so I hide in my room and reread some Edna St. Vincent Millay. Which poem did Connor love enough to tattoo over his heart?
    I can’t stop thinking about him, wondering what he thought of me, if he’s thought of me.
    Granddad has another collection of Millay in the library. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear raised voices.
    Erica and Granddad are arguing