Hang the Moon by Jeannette Walls EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Jeannette Walls
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Regency Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THE SUN WILL SHOW itself soon. Our house is near the bottom of the
mountain—not too far from the train tracks—with another mountain rising
directly across from us, so we’ve got ourselves only a narrow stretch of sky
overhead. Most mornings that sky is shrouded with a mist thick and heavy as
a wet wool blanket and some days the sun doesn’t burn it o until near noon.
We’ll have boiled and beaten the stains out of these darned sheets by then and
we can hang them to dry, take them to the clinic tomorrow and collect our
money. That will get us through another week.
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But we need the sun.
I keep glancing east, willing that old sun to shine, and that’s when I see the
car. It’s coming down through the switchbacks on the mountainside across
from us, moving in and out of the mist. Aunt Faye sees it too. We stop
stirring the sheets and both watch wordless while it crosses the Shooting
Creek bridge at the very bottom of the mountains, goes into the little town
and out of sight, then comes through the mist on our road, the one running
alongside the creek and the train tracks. It’s a big car, long as a locomotive and
green—the dark, hard green of a new dollar bill. No one in these mountains
drives a car like that. Far as I know, only one man in the whole county could
aord such a car. It rolls to a stop at the faded sign that says FAYE’S DRESSMAKING AND HAIR-STYLING.
“I look a fright,” Aunt Faye says while she dries her hands on her apron and
touches her hair. “Be right back.” She ducks into the house.
I know I must look a fright, too, and I’m mopping my face with my sleeve
when a tall, lanky man in a dark suit steps out of the car.
“Tom!” I shout, dropping the ladle and running toward him like a kid let
out of school. I’ve known Tom Dunbar my whole life but haven’t laid eyes on
him since he headed o to college. If Tom’s back, if he’s driven all the way to
Hatfield in a fancy green automobile in the middle of the week, he’s not here
just to ask how I’m doing. Something has happened. Something very good. Or
very bad.
I hug Tom hard and he hugs back every bit as hard, then he takes my hands
and we just stand there, grinning at each other.
“You’re looking good, Sallie Kincaid.”
“That’s a lie.” My work dress is soaked, my hair slipping out of the loose
bun I put it in this morning, and my red, chapped hands smell of lye. “But it’s a
white lie, so I won’t hold it against you. I’ll tell you something that’s true. It’s
darn good to see you. And you look good, too.”
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