Crossing To Paradise Read Free

she smiled, she said the right words, but she didn’t so much as incline her head to Gatty.
    She didn’t even notice her.
    Gatty felt breathless. Her mouth was dry and there was such a knot in her throat. She had heard all about the betrothal but this was the first time she had ever seen Winnie, face-to-face.
    All day Gatty kept her distance from Winnie, her sharp words and flashing betrothal ring, her flame of hair, her wide-sleeved gown and grassgreen shoes.
    In her stained sackcloth and untanned boots, Gatty felt as if her own friendship with Arthur didn’t really exist. She felt so worthless.
    Yuletide! How soon the twelve days were over.
    On the last morning, Gatty carried her squawking chickens one by one up to Sir John’s run, and drove Hopeless up to Sir John’s byre. She put her arms right round her cow’s neck, and felt her calm warmth; then Gattygave a long moo, soft as the bottom-most notes of a flute and, with an aching heart, walked away.
    In the afternoon, Gatty found Oliver in the church vestry. He was sitting at his sloping desk, his feet on a footstool, writing on a piece of parchment.
    â€œThere you are!” said Gatty.
    â€œIn the service of the Lord,” Oliver replied.
    â€œOliver, can you write a message for me? Please.”
    â€œCan I or will I?”
    â€œWill you?”
    Oliver looked dimly at Gatty. “To whom?”
    â€œArthur!”
    Oliver smiled. “There’s a surprise,” he said. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve one small piece of parchment left over from my labors. My morning labors.”
    â€œWho are you writing to?” asked Gatty.
    â€œLady Gwyneth’s priest.”
    â€œWhy? What about?”
    Oliver completed the character and then the word he was writing. Then he rolled up the little scroll and gave it to Gatty.
    â€œKeep it safe and dry,” he said. “This letter could make all the difference.”
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œYou’ll find out,” said Oliver. “Now! What’s your message?”
    â€œReady?” asked Gatty. “Where are you today I keep wondering. I often talk to you and see you easy. ”
    â€œEasily,” said Oliver.
    â€œNo,” said Gatty. “Easy.”
    â€œEasy is wrong,” said Oliver.
    â€œNot for me,” Gatty replied. “Please, Oliver! Write what I say. Then Arthur will hear me.”
    Oliver pressed his lips together. “Go on, then,” he said.
    â€œ You got the sky on your shoulders, ” Gatty dictated. “ You remember when I said let’s go to Jerusalem? I can’t explain but somehow I thought it, I believed it, and now I’m going. You and your singing will keep us all safe, Lady Gwyneth says. Arthur, when are you coming back? I haven’t forgot… ”
    â€œForgotten,” said Oliver.
    Gatty gently shook her head and then, very boldly, she laid the flat of her right hand on Oliver’s back.
    Oliver sniffed.
    â€œâ€¦I haven’t forgot going upstream. You promised. Or can you ride to Ewloe. Them bulls, and me wearing Sir John’s armor, and rescuing Sian from the fishpond and going to Ludlow Fair, and everything…It’s true! It is. Best things don’t never get lost.”
    Oliver looked up at Gatty: so eager, her eyes shining. He knitted his brows. “Just what are you to Arthur?” he inquired.
    â€œMe? To Arthur? What do you mean?” And then, with a smile and a little shrug, Gatty said, “True.”
    â€œYes,” said Oliver. “True.” He wrote four more words, and voiced them as he wrote.
    â€œ By your true Gatty …
    â€œThere you are!” said Oliver. “That’s your letter.”
    â€œWill you keep it and give it to him?” Gatty asked. “When he gets home.”
    â€œIf he gets home,” the priest replied.
    â€œHe will,” said Gatty.
    â€œSome do,” the priest said. “Most