Tuck Everlasting
Chapter 18
And so there were flapjacks again for breakfast, but no one seemed to mind. “Didn’t get a bite, eh?” said Mae.
"No," said Miles, "nothing we wanted to keep."
That was true, anyway. And though Winnie blushed as he said it, she was grateful that he didn’t explain.
"Never mind," said Mae. "You’re likely out of practice. Tomorrow, maybe."
"Sure," said Miles. "Tomorrow."
But it was the thought of seeing Jesse again that kept Winnie’s stomach fluttering. And at last he came down from the loft, yawning and rosy, rubbing his curls, just as Mae was piling the plates with flapjacks. “Well, slug-a-bed,” she said to him fondly. “You come near to missing breakfast. Miles and Winnie been up for hours, out fishing and back already.”
"Oh?" said Jesse, his eyes on Miles. "Where’s the fish, then? How come we got nothing but flapjacks?"
"No luck," said Mae. "They wasn’t biting, for some reason."
"Reason is, Miles don’t know how to fish," said Jesse. He grinned at Winnie and she lowered her eyes, her heart thumping.
"It don’t matter," said Mae. "We got plenty without. Come and get your plates, everybody."
They sat about in the parlor, as they had the night before. The ceiling swam with bright reflections, and sunlight streamed across the dusty, chip-strewn floor. Mae surveyed it all and sighed contentedly. “Now, this is real nice,” she said, her fork poised above her plate. “Everyone sitting down together. And having Winnie here—why, it’s just like a party.”
"That’s the truth," said Jesse and Miles both together, and Winnie felt a rush of happiness.
"Still, we got things to discuss," Tuck reminded them. "There’s the business of the horse getting stole. And we got to get Winnie home where she belongs. How we going to do that without the horse?"
"After breakfast, Tuck," said Mae firmly. "Don’t spoil a good meal with a lot of talk. We’ll get to it soon enough."
So they were silent, eating, and this time Winnie licked the syrup from her fingers without pausing to think about it first. Her fears at last night’s supper seemed silly to her now. Perhaps they were crazy, but they weren’t criminals. She loved them. They belonged to her.
Tuck said, “How’d you sleep, child?” And she answered, “Just fine,” and wished, for a fleeting moment, that she could stay with them forever in that sunny, untidy little house by the pond. Grow up with them and perhaps, if it was true about the spring—then perhaps, when she was seventeen … She glanced at Jesse, where he sat on the floor, his curly head bent over his plate. Then she looked at Miles. And then her eyes went to Tuck and lingered on his sad, creased face. It occurred to her that he was the dearest of them all, though she couldn’t have explained why she felt that way.
However, there wasn’t time to wonder, for at that moment someone knocked at the door.
It was such an alien sound, so sudden and surprising, that Mae dropped her fork, and everyone looked up, startled. “Who’s that?” said Tuck.
"I can’t imagine," whispered Mae. "We ain’t never had callers in all the years we been here."
The knock came again. “I’ll go, Ma,” said Miles.
"No, stay where you are," she said. "I’ll go.” She put her plate down carefully on the floor and stood up, straightening her skirts. Then she went to the kitchen and opened the door.
Winnie recognized the voice at once. It was a rich and pleasant voice. The man in the yellow suit. And he was saying, “Good morning, Mrs. Tuck. It is Mrs. Tuck, isn’t it. May I come in?”
"No," said Miles, "nothing we wanted to keep."
That was true, anyway. And though Winnie blushed as he said it, she was grateful that he didn’t explain.
"Never mind," said Mae. "You’re likely out of practice. Tomorrow, maybe."
"Sure," said Miles. "Tomorrow."
But it was the thought of seeing Jesse again that kept Winnie’s stomach fluttering. And at last he came down from the loft, yawning and rosy, rubbing his curls, just as Mae was piling the plates with flapjacks. “Well, slug-a-bed,” she said to him fondly. “You come near to missing breakfast. Miles and Winnie been up for hours, out fishing and back already.”
"Oh?" said Jesse, his eyes on Miles. "Where’s the fish, then? How come we got nothing but flapjacks?"
"No luck," said Mae. "They wasn’t biting, for some reason."
"Reason is, Miles don’t know how to fish," said Jesse. He grinned at Winnie and she lowered her eyes, her heart thumping.
"It don’t matter," said Mae. "We got plenty without. Come and get your plates, everybody."
They sat about in the parlor, as they had the night before. The ceiling swam with bright reflections, and sunlight streamed across the dusty, chip-strewn floor. Mae surveyed it all and sighed contentedly. “Now, this is real nice,” she said, her fork poised above her plate. “Everyone sitting down together. And having Winnie here—why, it’s just like a party.”
"That’s the truth," said Jesse and Miles both together, and Winnie felt a rush of happiness.
"Still, we got things to discuss," Tuck reminded them. "There’s the business of the horse getting stole. And we got to get Winnie home where she belongs. How we going to do that without the horse?"
"After breakfast, Tuck," said Mae firmly. "Don’t spoil a good meal with a lot of talk. We’ll get to it soon enough."
So they were silent, eating, and this time Winnie licked the syrup from her fingers without pausing to think about it first. Her fears at last night’s supper seemed silly to her now. Perhaps they were crazy, but they weren’t criminals. She loved them. They belonged to her.
Tuck said, “How’d you sleep, child?” And she answered, “Just fine,” and wished, for a fleeting moment, that she could stay with them forever in that sunny, untidy little house by the pond. Grow up with them and perhaps, if it was true about the spring—then perhaps, when she was seventeen … She glanced at Jesse, where he sat on the floor, his curly head bent over his plate. Then she looked at Miles. And then her eyes went to Tuck and lingered on his sad, creased face. It occurred to her that he was the dearest of them all, though she couldn’t have explained why she felt that way.
However, there wasn’t time to wonder, for at that moment someone knocked at the door.
It was such an alien sound, so sudden and surprising, that Mae dropped her fork, and everyone looked up, startled. “Who’s that?” said Tuck.
"I can’t imagine," whispered Mae. "We ain’t never had callers in all the years we been here."
The knock came again. “I’ll go, Ma,” said Miles.
"No, stay where you are," she said. "I’ll go.” She put her plate down carefully on the floor and stood up, straightening her skirts. Then she went to the kitchen and opened the door.
Winnie recognized the voice at once. It was a rich and pleasant voice. The man in the yellow suit. And he was saying, “Good morning, Mrs. Tuck. It is Mrs. Tuck, isn’t it. May I come in?”
