Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

Molly’s father would be in the parade today, Max thought as he observed the crowd. She’d told him that she had no plans to attend, though she hadn’t told her dad of her decision. “He won’t even notice,” she’d said.

Max passed a copy of the Telegram to Arnie. “Have you seen this?”

“Not yet. I heard they estimated yesterday’s crowd at anywhere from twelve thousand to twenty-five thousand.”

“Yeah. But read this letter to the editor.”

Arnie brushed some crumbs from his wrinkled jacket, then cleared his throat. “ ‘If the Jews of Germany encouraged disloyal parades of the kind witnessed here on Tuesday,’ ” he read out loud, “ ‘is it any wonder that Hitler planted his iron heel on their necks? You can’t expect but a grunt from a pig, but we will not see our war memorials desecrated.’ ” He threw the paper down. “Utter rubbish. I expect nothing less from the Telegram.”

Max tapped the corner of his mouth, staring at Arnie.

“What?”

“Mustard.”

Arnie wiped it off with his thumb, unconcerned.

“Considering how many thousands of angry, frustrated people were there,” Max said, “I’d say it was an extremely calm rally. And I didn’t see any ‘desecration.’ ” Though he had wondered if the offended letter-writer had been talking about Sir John A. Macdonald’s monument, where he and Molly had spent the duration.

Arnie let out an exasperated sigh and pointed at the door. Max looked up to see Yossel stride into the deli, along with a few others from the synagogue. Predictably, Yossel came right over and claimed the seat across from Max, a smug smile on his face.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me,” Max said.

Yossel kept his eye on Max as he lit his cigarette. “I saw you at the rally yesterday.”

He took a bite of his sandwich. “So you are following me.”

“Who was the pretty girl?”

The pastrami went dry in Max’s mouth.

Yossel blew out a ring of smoke. “She looked like a shiksa.”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, but that was Molly Ryan. A good friend of mine.”

“It looked like you two were close,” he replied.

Had Yossel seen Max put his arm around her? Had he noticed that Max spent almost as much time watching Molly as he did the speeches? Across the table, Arnie was watching, waiting on Max’s response.

“Sure we are.” Max set down his sandwich. “We grew up together. Molly’s Hannah’s best friend. She’s like another sister to me.”

He found the words surprisingly difficult to get out, but it was important to reassure everyone around him that he had no romantic inclinations toward Molly. The trouble was, he couldn’t reassure himself. When he looked at Molly now, he saw so much more than just an old friend.

“Lucky you, to have such a friend as that,” Yossel replied. “She’s gorgeous.”

“And smart.” Max raised his eyebrows. “Are you lonely, Yossel? No friends of your own? I can see how that might happen. You have a habit of rubbing people the wrong way.”

Arnie barked out a laugh, but Yossel didn’t smile. “Maybe she can be my friend, too.”

Max tried not to react, but Yossel was annoying him more than usual today. “You really ought to try and make your own friends,” he suggested. He got to his feet, set some money on the table for the food. “I have to go. You coming, Arnie? We still have time to rob that bank if you want.”

Half a block away from the deli, Arnie raised his voice over the clamour of bagpipes. “So you were with Molly at the rally?” he asked. “That’s why I didn’t see you with your family.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Arnie hesitated. “Listen, you know I love Molly. She’s a great gal.”

Heat rose up Max’s neck. “She is.”

“I saw how you looked at her at the beach, Max. Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but you already got punched once for being around her. Maybe you ought to back off, my friend. One wrong move and you could find yourself in a world of trouble.”

Max’s instinct was to deny his attraction to her, but Arnie would see right through his lie. And Arnie was right. It was time for Max to wake up. First Hannah, then Yossel, and now Arnie. Besides, Molly hadn’t said or done anything to encourage him. He was going down a path he had no right to walk. It was time to change direction before he got lost.

nine MOLLY

I’d decided on the blue dress for tonight’s ball game. When I’d worn it to the season opener, Max’s team had won. I liked to think it had brought them luck, and tonight they’d need whatever luck they could get: it was game three between Harbord and St. Peter’s. Both teams had won a game so far and tonight was the elimination round.

Nerves rushed through me as I dressed, my fingers fumbling over the buttons. Despite getting out early from work, I was still running late. Jimmy’s game was happening first, and I’d promised him I’d do my best to make it for the end of his game, but it wasn’t looking good. At least I’d get there for Max’s. I reached for my hairbrush—and heard the sound of fabric tearing.

“Darn!” I glared at the small rip in the bodice seam, wondering if I had time to sew it up. Or I could change into something different, which I really didn’t want to do. I examined the material, my seamstress eyes assessing the damage. Not even an inch long, not an important seam. No one would notice, I decided. And I would be mindful.

Tonight was the end of the season, the end of summer. It usually felt like a dismal time, but it didn’t seem as bad this year, because I had decided to go back to school. Max was right—things wouldn’t always be like this. So I had signed up for night school. I would finally get my high school diploma. Classes