[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll join Ella now.”The matter wasn’t over for Jonas Wagner.Stephen didn’t know if they realized that.A few hours later the crowd thinned as celebrants began departing.Stephen retrieved his overcoat from among the pile on a hall coat tree.Annie found him there.“Leaving?”He glanced over his shoulder.“Everyone else seems to be.”Mrs.Hawkins called from the parlor.“Annie, come sit.Grace and Owen are going to open some of their gifts.”Annie did not seem willing to break the gaze they held.Stephen blinked but did not move.“I shouldn’t intrude,” he finally said.“Nonsense.” She nodded toward the room.“Come in, love,” Mrs.Hawkins said to him.He stood awkwardly in front of the window, sending the candle holding watch there fluttering.The couple opened boxes containing silver platters and linen tablecloths.The Parker children reclined near the hearth, where Aileen sat in a rocking chair holding the youngest, who slumbered peacefully.“Thank you, Mr.Adams.What a well-made woven blanket,” Grace said, pulling his thoughts back to the purpose of the gathering.He smiled.As the others chatted, he whispered to Annie, “I have something in my coat pocket for you.Let me get it.” He hurried to the coat tree, found the fat envelope containing her stories, and handed it to her.He’d gotten them back from Davis that afternoon, after Davis had finished making copies.Aileen came into the hall as the Parkers prepared to leave.Mr.Parker’s sister took the toddler from Aileen and they handed coats around.Annie helped, so Stephen sat quietly on one of the floral chairs.Grace and Owen began to pack up their presents.“Allow me to help.” He grabbed his coat again and started gathering boxes and baskets.By the time he finished loading up a wagon parked in the rear alley, the hour was very late.But Mrs.Hawkins asked him not to leave yet.“Annie would like to thank you.”“For what?”She urged him inside.He sat in the parlor with the woman and Annie, who was still wearing a coat after having helped to carry gifts.Aileen had gone with the Parkers, the newlyweds had departed for their new house, and all the guests had left.“I do thank you for returning these, Mr.Adams.”“I apologize sincerely.I’m afraid my enthusiasm—”Annie held up a hand.“Do not speak of it.What’s done is done.”He bit his lip.Annie gently lifted the yellowed pages to put them away in the writing desk she held in her lap, but as she did, a puzzled look passed over her.“The desk feels weighty.” She dug her hand around inside.“Hmm.” She slid her hand along the back and Stephen heard a click.Then she opened what appeared to be a hidden compartment and pulled out a small black leather book.“Who put this in here?”“What is it, love?” Mrs.Hawkins asked, settling into a chair by the tea table.Annie opened the cover, and Stephen gazed over her shoulder.The writing was peculiar, not in English.Being a postman, he’d seen foreign writing before.“This looks like German to me.”“Oh, Mrs.Hawkins, I think I found Jonas’s ledger.”Indeed it would have barely fit inside a letter box.A noise on the stair made them all turn to look.Stocking feet appeared and then a long, thin hand as someone bent low to gaze into the parlor.Finally a face peered from between the balusters.Miss Kirsten Wagner!A clatter erupted as the women gathered around the girl.Stephen picked up the ledger so many people had been clamoring to get.He wanted to take it, but after what he’d done with the stories, he thought better of it.He would trust Mrs.Hawkins to guard it, but he’d have to let the postmaster know it had been found.With all the hubbub over the reappearance of the missing girl, Stephen felt like someone who had sneaked into a theater without paying.His pounding heart accused him of intruding.He shouldn’t be there.Even when he’d slipped a gift into Annie’s coat pocket as they sat together on the sofa, she had not noticed.He hoped when she found it, she would finally understand where his heart truly was.As both women fussed over Kirsten Wagner where she stood on the stairs, he went to the front door.“I should be going.” No one looked at him.“Good-bye.”He opened the door and stepped out into the frosty night.Glancing up and down the sidewalk, he did not see Jonas anywhere.His sister had returned; the ledger was found.He shoved his hands into his pockets and then remembered he’d forgotten the new mittens Mrs.Jacobs had made for him.He’d taken them off to return the papers to Annie.He turned and looked back at the house, its windows glowing with candlelight.He’d sent his heart down a sledding hill for a woman who lived there, but she wouldn’t even hear him out.He opened and shut the gate, letting himself out like he always did when he delivered mail.He walked toward First Church.When he rounded the corner of Rayburn Street, he saw lights on in the windows.He pulled off his hat, entered the building, and sat in a rear pew.Someone put a hand on his shoulder.“Reverend Clarke.I hope you don’t mind.”“Mind? This is God’s house, son.Stay as long as you like.If you need me, I’m right here.Just wanted to let you know that.”Stephen glanced up toward the altar, tears blurring his sight.Reverend Clarke was one of the few he’d told about the circumstances surrounding his father’s death.“I have tried not to be a failure like my father was.”“Oh, son, your father was a troubled man who made a poor decision that he likely didn’t foresee the consequences of.What he did has injured you, but it need not destroy you.The very fact that you are struggling proves you are not defeated.”“What do you mean?”“It’s dealing with our troubles that wearies us and causes us to come into the sanctuary late at night.And that’s good, in fact.Someone who runs away from strife is not someone who will prevail when all is said and done.What your father did was give up.I don’t see you surrendering.And if you’re not, then you must be trying.And so long as you do, you will never be a failure.There is always a new beginning waiting for you.”Stephen took a long deep breath.They sat in silence a good while.Finally Stephen turned to him.“Sometimes I’m just so angry.” The muscles in his jaw tightened.He hated the feeling.“Being angry is understandable.I can’t say how you should be feeling.It was an awful thing.”Stephen pounded his fists together, frustrated.“I don’t like how it makes me feel.”“That is an important thing to consider.All your anger is doing is hurting you inside [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • przylepto3.keep.pl