Chapter One

Walter Leaves for Work

Bertha Shirley stood at the door of their little yellow house and waved good-bye to Walter as he turned onto the road that would eventually take him to the Bolingbroke high School. His arms were too full of books to wave back, but his smile told her everything she needed to know. She continued to watch him as he journeyed down the long road that led to the Hepworth house. Geoffrey Hepworth taught science at the school, and would be waiting for Walter, with the horse and buggy ready for the trip across the green marshlands and into the center of town.

Walter had hoped to do the long journey by foot, but today was the first day of the fall term, and he had too much to carry. Usually he counted on that early morning walk to clear the cobwebs out of his head before starting his first geometry class. After the walk, and after that class, Walter always felt ready for anything. There was something so orderly, so logical, so predictable about geometry—in fact, about all branches of mathematics. Everything seemed to fit. He loved the subject he taught with the same intensity that Bertha felt for the material she'd been teaching in the same school—up until last June.

Bertha stayed in the doorway long after Walter had disappeared behind the tangle of rosebuds and wild apple trees at the west corner of the Hepworth property. She wished she were with him. She was longing to step into a classroom today and start opening the students' eyes and ears—not to mention their brains—to the miracle of good poetry. To Wordsworth, to Keats, to the new poet Matthew Arnold. And Shakespeare. Supposing their new teacher didn't care about Shakespeare! Bertha couldn't really see why you weren't supposed to be a teacher just because you were married.

Chapter Two

Jessie's revelation

Mrs. Shirley! Mrs. Shirley!" Where was the voice coming from? Bertha looked over her shoulder and could see a figure racing down the road in the direction of the yellow house, hair escaping from its pins, apron flying. Bertha turned around again and waved. It was Jessie Gleeson. Bertha's hair always stayed put, no matter how she arranged it, regardless of what she was doing. So much of her small self was tidy&mdashloutwardly serene and orderly—that she exuded a kind of warm peacefulness. She often had some pretty untidy thoughts, but she kept most of those tucked away inside her.

Jessie Bleeson was a different manner entirely. When running along the road, it was inevitable that her hair would escape from its pins and combs—or whatever had been installed to keep it in place. It was typical that she had forgotten to take off her apron—and that it was flying all over the place as she raced along. And the fact that she was yelling—yelling—as she ran down the street would surprise no one who knew her.

When Bertha and Walter had moved into their little house in June, Jessie had made quite a few friendly calls. But she'd stopped coming. Every once and while, when Bertha's mind had nothing better to do than to dream up worries, she wondered if she'd done anything to offend Jessie. She liked Jessie, and hoped this wasn't the case. Why the succession of eager visits and then...nothing? Bertha smiled, and motioned Jessie to come in when the panting woman came abreast of the house.

But Jessie just stood at the end of the lane and shook her head. She was still breathing too heavily to manage a full sentence. "Can't," she puffed. "bread in oven Come to my house. Children back in school. Nice and quiet. Tea's steeping."

Bertha laughed. Well, this wasn't as thrilling as teaching Hamlet, but it was a lot better than dusting perfectly clean shelves. She closed the door, ran down the steps, and joined Jessie.

By now, Jessie had some of her voice back. 'I saw Mr. Shirley striding by on his long legs—on his way to school," she said. "Figured you might be lonesome all alone in that tiny house."

"Thank you," said bertha. 'Yes. It'll be nice to have a little visit."

When they'd settled down on the two kitchen rockers, there was a brief awkward silence. Then Jessie spoke.

"Guess you wondered why I stopped coming to call."

"Well, I did wonder if..." Bertha didn't know how to end the sentence.

Well, stop wondering," said Jessie. "I didn't know how to explain, but suddenly I got to thinking I had to tell you anyway. When I saw Mr. Shirley drive off with Geoffrey, I knew you were alone. You're never alone..." Her voice trailed off.

"And?"

"And I felt the courage rise in my chest. I'll tell her, I thought."

"Tell me what?"

"That after a while, I couldn't stand coming to your place."

"Why?" exclaimed Bertha. "Why?"

"I couldn't stand all that loving going on all the time. It wasn't like you were hugging or touching or anything. It's the way he follows your every move, even when you're just doing some simple little thing like stirring your tea. And you, too. Watching him, watching him, like he had wings."

He does have wings, thought bertha. She's absolutely right. And Shakespeare himself couldn't have described it any better. Jessie never got beyond Class Five, but she's a poet.

But Jessie was still talking.

"Maybe I wouldn't have minded that so much if Gerald had ever, in the twelve years of our marriage—even just once—looked at me like that."

"Never?" said Bertha.

"Well..." Jessie paused for a moment. 'Maybe from time to time, when...well, you know. But that's different. This seems to happen to the two of you every single day, even when you're sitting on opposite sides of a room."

Bertha listened, wondering what he was going to reply to this woman.

"And he's often cross or cranky with me. Gerald, I mean. When I burn the toast or if one of the children is crying. When anything sort of gets in his way. Even when it's not my fault." She stopped talking, and Bertha found herself able to say, "I'm sorry, Jessie."

"Well, it's not your fault, Mrs. Shirley. Or maybe even Gerald's. I know he worries about money. Six mouths are a lot to feed. He gets a lot of headaches. And working on an assembly line must have been pretty awful. Anyway, I'm used to it. The sky won't fall. But all of a sudden, I felt like my heart couldn't survive all those adoring looks that were passing back and forth between you and your husband. So I came to a decision."