Compass Rose Read Free

Tom. She saw another mother hug her son, and May was encouraged to put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. She did the same for Tom, who needed some sympathy because he hadn’t played.
    Tom said, “You know, it wasn’t that bad of a pitch. The guy got lucky.”
    Charlie said, “No. He had it timed. He really clocked it. I’ve never seen such a long ball. I mean, not in person.”
    Miss Perry arrived. She said, “I’m glad to hear you say that, Charlie. I confess I was thrilled. I’m afraid I applauded for the wrong team.”
    “That’s okay,” Charlie said. “I mean, you don’t see that every day.”
    “Well, it was all perfectly splendid,” Miss Perry said. “And you’re all coming for lunch, are you not? And your birthday cake.”
    Tom said, “We’d better clean up some.”
    Miss Perry blinked behind her thick glasses. “It’s a shame yourfather’s at sea, but we’ll be a jolly little party. Elsie, dear, you’ll stay, won’t you?”
    Elsie said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I’ve got to meet my sister.”
    “I thought she went sailing with Jack. Never mind. It’s kind of you to drive me. Now, don’t dillydally, boys.”
    May watched them make their way toward Elsie’s car, Miss Perry on Elsie’s arm.
    “Miss Perry’s getting old,” Tom said. “And Elsie’s kind of plumped up.”
    May said, “You boys shouldn’t say things about—”
    Charlie said, “You shouldn’t say ‘you boys’ when it’s just Tom. I was going to say Elsie looked pretty good getting up for that foul ball—taking a fall like she did.”
    “Well, I guess someone’s stuck on Elsie,” Tom said. “Bet you wish it was you got tangled up with her.”
    May didn’t hear what Charlie said back. She felt another rasp across the same place—no end to Elsie Buttrick. But whether because she’d had an hour or two to grow numb or whether she was grateful for Elsie’s lie about having to meet her sister or whether Tom’s taunt set her to thinking how relentlessly stupid men were going to be about Elsie Buttrick, May found herself sharing some small part of her distress with Elsie Buttrick. There wasn’t anyone May could tell this to.

chapter three
    E lsie felt squeezed shut inside. As if her nerves were the roots of a tree that was dug up and put in a small bucket, white roots sprouting wildly but curling back on themselves when they hit the steel sides.
    She managed to help Miss Perry across the field. She held the passengerdoor open while Miss Perry clung to the base of the open window to lower herself onto the seat.
    When they got to Miss Perry’s house, Elsie felt obliged to help her set out the cucumber sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. She got the birthday cake out of the refrigerator and put it on the kitchen counter. Her fingers felt peeled to the quick handling the plates, the tray, the pitcher, the platter that May would be holding in a few minutes.
    “Candles,” Miss Perry said. “Birthday candles. And the little rosettes to hold them. I put them somewhere. Blue for Charlie and red for Tom. Could you look in the drawer? The one by the sink. I am sorry to be such a … It was very hot in the sun.”
    When she heard Miss Perry’s unfinished sentence, Elsie grew alarmed. She got Miss Perry to sit down at the kitchen table and brought her a glass of water. Elsie wrapped some ice cubes in a dish towel. Miss Perry said, “Don’t be silly, Elsie,” but allowed her to put it on her neck. Miss Perry said, “My father used to soak his pocket handkerchief in witch hazel to cool himself.”
    Elsie was reassured by this complete Miss-Perry sentence. She found the candles and holders and stuck them in the cake. She considered leaving, decided she shouldn’t. She had to push through some shyness to put her hand on Miss Perry’s forehead. Miss Perry’s brow was warm but not too hot. And not cold and clammy. Elsie put the ice pack on again.
    Miss Perry closed her eyes and said, “It was hot in the sun.”