The Tender Years Read Free Page A

Surely she should be able to do something on her own. Surely she didn’t need to account for every waking moment.
    She was almost to the gate before she thought of her old neighbor again. Her mama did not view Mr. Adamson as did the snobbish Trina. Her mama was always kind, gentle, and neighborly with the old man. If she, Virginia, forgot about the soda excuse and just said that she had been visiting with Mr. Adamson, might her mama be more forgiving? The very idea took a little of the slump from her shoulders. It would not be a lie. She had visited with Mr. Adamson. But it wouldn’t be all of the truth, either—and her mama and papa were sticklers for the truth. What if she said she was late because she was visiting Mr. Adamson, and then someone else, like nosy Mrs. Parker, were to inform her mother that she had seen her with Freddie Crell in The Bright Side Sweet Shop sharing a soda? Then there would really be trouble.
    No, it was best to be up-front and honest from the very beginning. Besides, even if she did get away with it with Mama, and she doubted that she would, there was still the matter of her own conscience to deal with. Virginia knew she would have a difficult time living with deceit.
    As she entered the yard and swung around the walk to the back door, her shoulders slumped again and her steps lagged. Were boys really worth it, she began to wonder, when one had to pay such a price for their company and attention? But they’d had fun. They had laughed at silly jokes. Mostly, Jenny had laughed. Giggled, Mr. Adamson had called it. She, Virginia, had tried to sound a little bit like Jenny with her high-pitched, boisterous laughter.
    And Freddie had said that Virginia had cute freckles. How could one have cute freckles? But that’s exactly what Freddie had said. It made her face flush again just thinking about it. And they had talked about school. Even leaned close together and whispered some unnice things about the teacher and laughed because no one had caught them and scolded them for the comments. It had been fun. But now—she was in trouble. She knew that before she even opened the back door.
    The inner door to the kitchen was open, only the screen door was snugly in place. For a moment her hand rested on the handle. She could smell the pleasing aroma of fresh-baked cookies. Likely Clara had been at it again. It seemed to Virginia that all Clara liked to do was bake. Bake and make eyes at Troy Dunworthy. She hoped with all her heart that she would not meet Clara in the kitchen. Meeting Clara would be even worse than meeting her mama. Clara could be so bossy. So nosey. For the umpteenth time she wished that Clara would just up and marry her Troy and get her own house. It was not easy living with Clara.
    She peered through the screen door. The kitchen was empty. The counter was spread with cooling cookies. They smelled rich and inviting, and even though Virginia had already spoiled her supper with the soda, she was reminded that there was still plenty of room for cookies.
    Slowly, noiselessly, she pulled open the screen door and eased it shut without a sound. If she could just make it down the back hall to her room, she could spread out her books on the small desk and be busily engaged with homework when she was called to set the table for supper. Who would know how long she had been there?
    “Shut the door,” called a voice from somewhere within the house.
    Clara.
    She glanced heavenward. Her whole plan had just been destroyed. It both frustrated and angered her. “I did ,” she answered, her voice agitated.
    “Tight. I don’t want flies getting in.”
    She turned and gave the door a sharp tug to set it firmly into place. The latch clicked. Clara had been right. It hadn’t been fully closed.
    She had taken two steps when Clara called again. “And leave the cookies alone. You’ll spoil your supper.”
    She made a face toward the part of the house from which the voice came and started toward her