The Boy Who Could Draw Tomorrow Read Free Page B

blessed and beautiful as Sam? But then she decided against it. It made more sense to wait until things settled back into place again and they had proved their ability to keep up with all these new expenses they were taking on.
    Near dawn, feeling absolutely reborn, Peggy's eyes came open as if fingers had pushed back the lids—but within instants she staggered from the bed, overcome with a thunderous headache and a curious feeling of dread. She went to the bathroom, splashed water on her face and took two Tylenol. It was when she sat down to urinate that she saw they must have gone to bed with the light still on in the hall. She wiped herself got up to investigate, automatically reaching to flush the toilet but then thinking, no, better not to chance rousing Hal.
    She padded into the hall.
    But it wasn't the light in the hall that was shining. It was in Sam's room; the light was coming from in there.
    Noiselessly she pushed open the partially closed door.
    She saw her son sitting under the architect's lamp that was fastened to the corner of his worktable. He was in his undershorts, and his golden head was bowed over his Jumbo pad, where the Pilot Razor Point pen that he favored was dancing in small, deft motions over the page.
    "Can't you sleep, honey?" Peggy softly called from the doorway.
    The boy shook his golden head. "Too hot."
    "But you switched off your fan, sweetie."
    "Too noisy," Sam said, not turning to look at his mother until Peggy had moved into the room to brush his hair away and touched the back of her hand to his forehead.
    "You feel sick, baby? Too much excitement? I never should have let you have that champagne."
    "I'm fine, Mom, honest. I just wanted to draw, is all."
    "Let's see," Peggy said, leaning down to examine what he was working on. Her vision was still gauzy from sleep and she had to blink her eyes to focus them. "I'll get you some ice water in a minute," she said tonelessly as she lifted the pad from the worktable to get a closer look.
    She saw a classroom, three rows of boys seen from the rear as they sat at their old-fashioned desks. Facing them, looking out at the children and at Peggy, too, there stood a woman of striking height, her eyes circled with heavy-rimmed glasses. There was no expression on the woman's face. In fact, the most noticeable thing about her was the colorless look with which she regarded the children who sat before her—that and the sharply upturned nose that flared pig-like from under the ponderous spectacles.
    "You've drawn her with a chignon," Peggy said, holding the pad under the light. "A chignon with a pencil sticking through it. Do you know what a chignon is?"
    Sam shook his head and took back the pad.
    "It's when a lady does her hair like that—pulled back in a bun."
    "Oh, sure," Sam said. "Thanks, Mom."
    "No trouble at all," Peggy said, smiling.  "Whenever you want the scoop on coiffures, you just check with your old mom, okay?"
    But Sam was too busy with his picture again to answer.
    Peggy stood over him, uncertain about what to say next.
    "I see you've got school on your mind. You're not worried or anything, are you baby? Sam honey? Everything's okay, isn't it?"
    The boy looked up from his pad, his face softened to unspeakable loveliness now that his head had moved out of the harsh, direct light. Peggy could see that his freckles were almost invisible now, as if they magically vanished in the nighttime hours.
    "I'm fine, Mom. Everything's fine."
    His words were reassuring, but she felt a vague chill rush through her even so. She hugged her arms to her chest, and then, not smiling now, she knelt to hold her son to her breast.
    He squirmed slightly in her arms, and Peggy realized with a catch in her throat how quickly he was growing up. Giving him a last squeeze, she got to her feet to get him the water she'd promised. It was when Peggy was in the kitchen yanking the ice tray free from the freezer compartment that she remembered what Miss Goldenson looked