The Peculiar Night of the Blue Heart Read Online Free Page A

still talking when Marybeth kicked out of her boots and moved into the house. She walked as though she were floating, past the kitchen where the older ones were playing cards and betting their chores, up the stairs to where Lionel had been watching her from between the rungs of the bannister.
    His face was splashed with freckles that came from his countless hours spent in the sun, his eyes wide and dark. As she climbed the steps, he crawled out of the shadows and sat on the landing to greet her.
    He was waiting for an explanation, Marybeth supposed. But all she said was, “You ought to be wearing a shirt. It’s cold.” She knelt beside him and wrapped the wool blanket around his shoulders. The gesture was so very like her, and so familiar, that Lionel felt an aching in his chest. This was still Marybeth, but something had changed. Something she wasn’t telling him.
    He didn’t know how to ask her what was different. He had never had to ask her anything. Marybeth was uncomplicated on the surface. Predictable. But Lionel knew when anything was amiss, and he had always known how to fix it.
    When she was sad, he could bring her to the river and lure the fish to the surface to dance for them. When she was angry, he raced her, until they had run so far from the little red house and were so out of breath that they collapsed into the grass and laughed.
    But for once, he didn’t know where she had been, or what had changed, or how to fix it.
    As she moved to stand, he said, “Wait.”
    She stayed in place, and he leaned forward, squinting at her gnarled brown hair and then at her face. “Where are your spectacles?”
    She blinked. “Aren’t I wearing them?”
    Lionel shook his head.
    Marybeth brought her hands to her temples. “Oh. I suppose I don’t need them anymore.” She stood, and as she walked toward her room, she did not look back to see his perplexed eyes blinking after her. She did not see that he was gnawing on his lip.
    Marybeth did not come downstairs for supper. Still wearing her yellow slicker, she climbed up to her bunk and slept until Mrs. Mannerd opened the door and filled the dark room with light from the hallway. She was carrying a tray of stew and bread, which she set on the desk the children used for their schoolwork.
    â€œAre you asleep? Didn’t you get enough sleep in the barn?” She was being facetious, of course.
    Marybeth raised her head sleepily from the pillow. She was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open.
    Mrs. Mannerd didn’t see Lionel lurking behind her and peering at Marybeth from behind her faded gingham dress. Marybeth saw him, but only for a moment before Mrs. Mannerd came in and closed the door behind her.
    â€œCome down now and eat something,” Mrs. Mannerd said, and it occurred to Marybeth that she was hungry. She felt as though she hadn’t eaten in years.
    She sat at the desk and began spooning the stew into her mouth greedily, as Mrs. Mannerd plucked the leaves from her hair.
    â€œAre you ready to talk about what happened?” Mrs. Mannerd said.
    â€œâ€Šâ€Šâ€˜What happened’?” Marybeth asked.
    â€œWhat happened that led to you falling asleep in a barn. Was one of the children mean to you again?”
    Marybeth continued eating her stew, giving no care to stop the splatters from getting on her sleeves. She shrugged. It was most unlike her, and Mrs. Mannerd wrung her hands and fretted. She noticed the torn sleeve but didn’t remark on it. She would mend it later.
    â€œMarybeth, has someone hurt you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou’re certain?”
    Marybeth didn’t answer. She was too busy eating the stew, pausing only to take bites from the bread.
    Most unlike her, Mrs. Mannerd thought.
    When Mrs. Mannerd left the room, she saw Lionel crouched by the door. She thought that he might do something wild, but he didn’t. He looked up at her, and in his wide eyes