Seventeenth Summer by Maureen Daly

Author:Maureen Daly [Daly, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780689853838
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 1942-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Jack was sitting, propped on his hands, with his head back looking at the sky and he moved his hand just a little so it barely touched mine. A tingling ran up my arm and I felt my face flush in the darkness. As a finale a series of rockets was set off in rapid succession till everything was a dazzle of quick-tailed shooting stars, fiery comets, and huge chrysanthemums of colored light. Long after the display had ceased the spectacle was bright before our eyes and the night sky was suddenly gentle and demure with the coy twinkle of pale stars. All of us felt the strange, silent natural beauty of it. The hushed night seemed so real, so lovely that I felt almost ashamed of the gaudy efforts of the faded rockets.

I wondered for a moment what my mother would think if she knew that I was sitting there in the darkness with Jack’s hand on mine. And all those strange thoughts. I wondered if it were just me or if they all felt this night so mysterious, so pulsing with something unspoken. My whole body felt uneasy with it. Suddenly I had an almost uncontrollable impulse to reach out and touch Jack’s bare throat gently, lightly with one finger, at the V of his shirt. And it was just then that he said politely to my mother, “Well, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Morrow, I think I’d better be going now. I’ve got to be out on the route early tomorrow.” He stood for a moment not knowing what else to say.

My mother rose from her chair too, saying, “I’m glad you came, Jack, and come again any time. It’s nice having you.” Her words sang in my ears as I walked to the front sidewalk with him. Kitty walked with us.

It was late and we all went into the house then and the others went straight upstairs while my mother turned back to call to me, “Angeline, be sure to see that the front door is unlocked for Lorraine.”

“I will,” I called back.

In the living room the window shades were still drawn as they had been against the heat of the afternoon and a few tired flies buzzed behind them against the windowpane. The air was hot and still and had the oppressive weight of not being lived in all day. There was something heavily, depressingly quiet about the whole room, and outside, somewhere in the city, the sound of an occasional late firecracker echoed. On the corner table was a vase of yellow flowers, limp and wilted, and in the heat of the afternoon the broad, smooth petals had dropped to the floor like tired butterflies. The night seemed suddenly husked of its beauty.

Quietly I turned the key in the lock and tried the knob of the front door. It was open. Lorraine would have no trouble getting in.

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