A Death-Struck Year by Makiia Lucier EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Makiia Lucier
- Language: English
- Genre: Science Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Saturday, September 21, 1918
In the coming weeks, I would wish that I had done things differently.
Thrown my arms around my brother, perhaps, and said, I love you, Jack.
Words I hadn’t spoken in years. Or held on a little tighter to Lucy and said,
Thank you. Thank you for watching over me, when my own mother could
not. But the distance between hindsight and foresight is as vast as the
Pacific. And on my family’s last evening in the city, my attention was fixed
not on gratitude, certainly, but on myself. My sad, sorry, unambitious self.
Famous American Women: Vignettes from the Past and Present. Curled
up on the settee, I read the book from first page to last, hoping inspiration
would strike and put an end to my misery. This! This is who you were meant
to be, Cleo Berry. Go now and live your life.
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So far no luck.
I reviewed. Abigail Burgess Grant, lighthouse keeper at Matinicus Rock,
Maine. I tried to picture it: the windswept coast, the salty air, the nearest
neighbor miles away. No, I thought. Too lonely. I turned the page. Isabella
Marie Boyd, wartime spy. Too dangerous. Geraldine Farrar, opera singer.
Not nearly enough talent. I lingered over the entry for Eleanor Dumont,
first female blackjack player, otherwise known as Madame Mustache. My
spirits lifted a little as I imagined my brother’s expression.
Lucy sat across from me, dressed for dinner and muttering over her
itinerary. Jack stood near the parlor’s window, pouring whiskey into a glass.
His tie had been pulled loose, a navy suit jacket tossed onto the piano
bench. We both favored our father, Jack and I, with gray eyes, hair black as
pitch, and, to my sibling’s everlasting embarrassment, dimples deep enough
to launch a boat in. He glanced over, caught my eye, and tipped his glass in
my direction. A friendly offer. Sixteen years my senior, my brother
practiced an unorthodox form of guardianship: tolerant in some ways,
overbearing in others. Whiskey was allowed. Young men were not.
I shook my head, then asked, “What does an ornithologist do?”
Jack placed the stopper into the decanter. “An ornithologist? Someone
who studies birds, I believe.”
Disappointed, I looked down. Florence Augusta Merriam Bailey,
ornithologist. No, too boring. This was impossible.
“Do drink that behind a curtain, Jackson,” Lucy said, looking out the
window to where Mrs. Pike could be seen entering her home across the
street. Mrs. Pike, the only neighbor we knew who took the Oregon
Prohibition laws seriously. “That woman would have us sent to Australia if
she could. Cleo as well.”
“I don’t think they ship criminals to Australia anymore, darlin’.” But
Jack obliged, moving out of sight.
Lucy frowned at me. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while we’re
away?” She paused, careful not to look at her husband. “You do know you
can always come with us.”
Jack cleared his throat, not even attempting to mask a pained expression,
and I couldn’t help but smile.
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