The Chatham School Affair by Thomas H. Cook

Author:Thomas H. Cook [Cook, Thomas H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Suspense
ISBN: 9780307434838
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1996-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Miss Channing was standing at the edge of Black Pond when we pulled into the driveway, a place where Sarah and I would sometimes find her when we arrived at Milford Cottage on a Sunday morning, and where, in my mind, I still see her, dressed in white, her back to me, framed by a swath of dark water.

She’d turned as Mr. Reed’s car came to a halt, rushed toward it briefly, then glimpsed me in the passenger seat, and instantly reined herself in, so that she was walking slowly by the time she reached us.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Mr. Reed said softly as he got out of the car.

“Hello, Leland,” Miss Channing answered. It was the first time I’d ever heard her call Mr. Reed by his given name.

He drew the picture from beneath his arm. “I want to show you something. It’s a Christmas present. Henry gave it to me.”

She stared at the portrait much longer than I’d expected her to. Now I realize that she could not possibly have cared for the way I’d drawn her, that it was only a nakedly romantic vision of herself, fervidly adolescent, and as she’d continued to study it that afternoon, she might well have been thinking those very words she would later say to Mr. Parsons, her eyes downcast, staring at her hands. It was never me.

“Very nice,” she said softly at last. She looked at me, smiled thinly, then handed the portrait back to Mr. Reed. “Would you like some tea?”

Mr. Reed didn’t hesitate in his reply. “Yes. Thank you.”

We went directly into the cottage.

“When did you get back?” Miss Channing asked Mr. Reed after she’d prepared the tea and served us.

“Just yesterday,” Mr. Reed answered.

“And how was Maine?”

“Like always,” Mr. Reed muttered. He took a quick sip, then said, “And you? What did you do while I was away?”

“I stayed here,” she replied. “Reading mostly.”

Mr. Reed drew in a slow breath. “Tell me, Elizabeth … do you sometimes think that you’re living only in your head?”

She shrugged. “Is that such a bad place?”

Mr. Reed smiled gravely. “It depends on the head, I suppose.”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Channing said.

There was an interval of silence before Mr. Reed said, “The boat will be finished by summer.”

Miss Channing said nothing, but only raised the cup to her lips, her eyes on Mr. Reed.

“After that it would be possible to”—he stopped, as if cautioning himself against speaking too rashly, then went on—“possible to go anywhere, I suppose.”

Miss Channing lowered the cup to her lap. “Where would you like to go, Leland?”

Mr. Reed stared at her intently. “Places you’ve already been, I suppose.”

For an instant, they stared at each other silently, but with an unmistakable intensity and yearning that made the shortest distance between them seem more than they could bear. It was then I first recognized the full depth of what they’d come to feel for each other. It had emerged slowly, incrementally, building every day, word by word, glance by glance, until, at

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