Silent Star Read Free Page B

hat had probably belonged to his father. A memento, she thought, of a man whose role the young boy hoped to fill.
    “I find that misery is eased when it’s shared with another,” she offered.
    Andy shook his head. “Not this misery.” He walked back toward the gate and Estella knew what she had to do.
    “Wait, please,” she called. Following him to the street, she smiled again. “It’s terribly cold out here. Why don’t you come home with me and have something hot to drink? I have plenty of coffee.” She watched the emotion play on Andy’s face. He seemed to want her company, but at the same time there was something about him that appeared uncomfortable in her presence.
    “I can’t,” Andy finally answered. He pushed his gloved hands down into his coat pockets and began walking away.
    “But it’s Sunday. Surely there’s nothing too pressing that can’t wait until later,” she added, hurrying to catch up with him.
    Andy stopped and stared at her for a moment. “You don’t understand.”
    Estella reached out and gently touched his arm. “Maybe not, but I’d like to.”
    He looked to the ground. “No. This isn’t the kind of thing you’d ever understand. No one does.”
    “Try me. It hardly seems fair to judge me by the standards of other people.”
    “Fine,” he said sternly. “Just remember, you are the one who forced this. Obviously you don’t know me or what I do.”
    “So tell me.” Estella had always been a woman who dealtwith life matter-of-factly. Her husband said it was her Italian background, but she doubted it; she always figured it to be her own nosiness.
    Andy struggled for several silent moments before he finally blurted out, “I deliver telegrams.”
    She frowned. It made little sense. She’d figured with the weight of guilt—or whatever emotion it was—that wore this boy down that at the very least he was some kind of confidence man. “I thought maybe you were a bank robber or a murderer,” she said in a joking tone. “Delivering telegrams is nothing to be ashamed of.”
    “I might as well be a murderer. I bring the news of death and people hate me for it. You have no idea how they avoid me. You couldn’t understand or you would never have approached me.”
    “Is that what this is all about?” Estella questioned.
    “Isn’t it enough?”
    Estella stamped her feet to warm them a bit. “I hardly think so. So you are the bearer of bad tidings. Someone has to do it. Surely you aren’t the only telegram delivery boy in town. How do the others feel?”
    “I wouldn’t know,” Andy replied curtly. “I’ve never asked them.”
    “Hmm.” Estella nodded. “Then it’s probably fair to guess that they’ve never asked you either.”
    “Of course they haven’t.”
    She nodded again. “Then that would explain it.”
    Andy’s frustration was apparent. “Explain what?”
    “The fact that you feel so alone—so awkward in trying to explain this situation to me now.”
    “Look, it doesn’t matter. People fear me, turn away from me because I bring them the news that their child or husband is dead. They want nothing to do with me and neither should you.” He turned to walk away, and Estella let him proceed several paces before calling out to him.
    “I have some cream—it’s not much, but it would be enough for coffee.”
    Andy stopped in his tracks and turned. “Why?” The depth of his anguish rang out in that one word.
    “Why what? I offer you coffee and you ask why? Because I’m a lonely old lady and I like redheaded boys.” She grinned. “Do you need more of a reason?”
    He never even cracked a smile, and Estella’s heart went out to him. Poor miserable child. So full of pain and sorrow, so unloved and forgotten. God, I see now why you sent me out here on this cold day. This poor boy is dying from loneliness and the wounds others have inflicted on him.
    “Look, Andy Gilbert, you needn’t turn down perfectly good coffee and cream just because some people