D - Brady's Bookshop Pt. 2

The following Monday at school, Margaret sat beside Mildred in the schoolyard while they waited for Miss Brownstone to toll the bell that
marked the beginning of the day's lessons. Margaret was so excited to tell Mildred about her new job that she didn't notice how in a very
un-Mildred-like mood her friend was.

"Guess what Mil!" she squealed, leaning forward and bursting at the seams.

"What's going on Mags?" came Mildred's subdued reply as she dug the tip of her left boot in the snow.

"After school this week I'm going to be helping old Mr. Brady at his bookshop, for ten cents a day! A real job!" Margaret suddenly realized
that she couldn't tell Mildred why she was helping Mr. Brady...she wanted the book to be a surprise, so she'd have to alter the story a bit. It's okay to lie just a little bit if it's to save a surprise for someone, she thought.

"Really?" Mildred replied, "Helping him with what?"

"The books are mostly new, but the place is filthy...he asked me if I would clean and dust the shelves for him." Margaret said, feeling good
that the lie wasn't too big.

"That's great Mags, really." Mildred said, a barely noticeable smile on her face. Margaret couldn't figure out her friend's reaction. Usually
Mildred would be the one practically doing somersaults with excitement and asking if she could hang around the store while Margaret worked.

"Mil are you okay? You seem kind of down today." She asked her friend.

"I am so down I don't even want to get up" came the reply. Margaret immediately knelt in front of Mildred and took both of her hands into her own, looking worriedly at her friend's dour expression.

"What's the matter Mil? You would never say that! Tell me what's going on!"

"You're not going to like it." Mildred answered.

"Me? Why would I not like it? Did I upset you?" Margaret asked this even though she and Mildred never, ever fought or got upset with each other.

"No, you didn't do anything." Mildred assured her, and paused before she continued. "We are moving to New Hampshire, all of us, me, little
Jimmy, mother and father."

Margaret thought for a moment that this might be one of Mildred's subtle ways of testing the strength of their friendship. If Margaret got upset about it, they were true friends, but if she blew it off then they really weren't like sisters after all.

"Come on Mil, you don't have to pull that, there's no need to test my reaction, you know I love you." Margaret playfully batted her eyes and
swooned at Mildred's feet.

"No joke Mags, I'm sorry to tell you." was all Mildred said, "Come on, get up."

Margaret stood up and brushed the snow from her dress and jacket, and realized Mildred wasn't testing her or joking. The wintry February
breeze and barren look of all that surrounded them seemed to chill her to the bone even more so.

"Moving? Why in the world are you moving all the way to New Hampshire?"

"Because my gram lives there, and daddy has to take care of her...she's all alone." Mildred looked as though she wanted to bury herself in the
snow and stay there.

"Is she sick?"

"Yeah...she's dying. Daddy is real upset, he got the telegram last week and told us all yesterday that we had to go. He says there's no choice,
he won't let her die by herself."

"Well...it's a good reason at least...she is your gram." was all Margaret could think of to say. Her head was swirling with shock and devastation, and her heart wrenched with compassion for Mildred's grandmother and sadness for herself at the idea of possibly never seeing her friend again.

"That's it? Aren't you upset?!" Mildred asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Of course I don't want you to go" Margaret was so full of emotion herself that she couldn't even come close to conveying the true nature of it.

"We're leaving next weekend already...I love my gram but, I just don't want to go." Mildred put her head in her hands and sobbed. Margaret put
her arm around her and tried her best to be comforting, even though she felt like she needed just as much comforting, if not more.

"What day are you leaving?" Margaret asked, praying Mildred would say Saturday.

"Saturday...mother wants me and Jimmy to finish the school week."

"Well, maybe you could come to the bookstore on Friday...and we could say goodbye then," Margaret suggested "I should be done by 4 o'clock."

Off in the distance, Miss Brownstone clanged the bell that told them the day was to begin. Mildred looked at Margaret and simply nodded, and
started the walk to class without saying a word.

The next week went by at an agonizingly fast pace. Each day in school Margaret paid more attention to Mildred than she did to the day's
lessons. She watched her friend as she read, as she listened to the teacher, and even as she ate her lunch later in the day. Every chance she could out of the corner of her eye, Margaret watched and savored each moment they had left together even though she didn't say anything at all. She read so many emotionally charged stories in her books and reacted so deeply to them, but could never seem to find words adequate enough for her own feelings. It frustrated her like nothing ever had before. She and Mildred shared the kind of bond that goes unspoken, where the affection is simply known, but now she questioned if Mildred really did know how important she was to her.

It was already Thursday and she was dusting Mr. Brady's shelves with markedly less enthusiasm than she had when she'd asked for the job.

"What seems to be troubling the young lass?" Mr. Brady asked, noticing that the expression on Margaret's face matched the look of the rag she
was holding in her hand. She let her arm fall limp at her side and sighed, for some reason feeling comforted by Mr. Brady's warm accent
and wise demeanor.

"Mr. Brady, my best friend Mildred is moving away in two days...I'm really going to miss her and I don't know what to do."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that Maggie," Mr. Brady replied, "why don't you give her a little goin' away present then?"

"I know...actually, I wanted to work here for you so I could get her a book that's just like mine, back there on the shelf...and we were going to share the stories with each other when we weren't together and I'd have someone to talk to about them, but now..." Margaret trailed off, not
realizing the potential of her previous idea, instead feeling that it was now futile to give Mildred the book since they wouldn't be able to
talk about it. A telegram from Chicago to New Hampshire took quite awhile to travel.

"Well that's a perfect situation then Maggie! Now all you'll have to do is plan what to read a wee further in advance!" It was so simple for Mr. Brady to think of this, while Margaret's own head was too embroiled in sadness to consider that her original reason for giving Mildred the book might make even more sense now.

"You may be on to something Mr. Brady..." Margaret said. She looked sheepishly at him and asked if she could put the book for Mildred behind the counter, to make for sure nobody bought it before tomorrow.

"I've sort of been hiding it all week." She confessed.

"I understand lass, you want your friend to have the book." Mr. Brady gave her a light pat on the head. "Why don't you take it now, and give it to her today?"

Margaret couldn't believe her ears. Mr. Brady was like a wrinkly old sponge; he seemed to absorb everything around him, including people's emotions. She ran down the aisle and grabbed the book from its spot behind the others, and walked back to the counter.

"Thank you Mr. Brady, this really means so much to me." She took his hand and shook it, feeling the large bumps of his knuckles under her
fingertips. She wouldn't give Mildred the book that day, but instead decided to spend the night in quiet preparation.

That night, Margaret sat with the two books in front of her. They were both slightly scuffed with worn corners and faded lettering, and the
pages had just begun to yellow. She opened one to the table of contents, and studied it for a moment, forming an outline in her head. Through three burned candles, she wrote out identical reading schedules for herself and Mildred all the way through the coming summer. Every couple of weeks, on specified dates, they would send eachother their thoughts by mail, answering eachother each subsequent time and adding more thoughts on further reading. She wrote it all out, in unfailing detail; what to read, when to read it, and when to mail their reactions
("subject to change while we become accustomed to the speed of US mail transport").

The next day at school, Margaret waited by the giant oak tree, looking for Mildred to come walking around the corner like she always did.
After a few minutes, she began to worry that Mildred's parents decided to leave early, and got on the train in the dead of night, her best
friend powerless and unable to say goodbye. Just as this possibility began to overwhelm her, Mildred came around the corner, looking the same shade of blue she had all week long. Margaret had never been so relieved in her life.

"Mil! Over here!" she yelled, waving excitedly, trying her hardest to remain composed, and not make some big mushy scene about it.

"Hey Mags, here it is, my day of departure. This is the worst." Mildred mumbled, sitting on a nearby bench. She took off her gloves and put them in her pockets. It wasn't nearly as cold when the storm hit earlier in the week.

"Well, I have something for you," Margaret said, holding out a small brown package "It might seem dumb at first, but think about it." She smiled and nodded. Mildred took the package and finally cracked her own smile, the first one all week.

"Mags, you didn't need to do that, we're poor
remember?"

"Well, yeah, but just open it, it hardly cost a thing I swear."

Mildred untied the string and opened the package. Inside was the book, and an envelope containing the reading schedule and a letter. Margaret quickly took the envelope and removed the schedule and instructions.

"Look at this first, you can read the letter when you leave tomorrow." She said. Mildred gave her a sudden, sad look, knowing then that the letter must be somehow personal. She took the schedule and read it, laughing every few seconds. When she finished and looked up, Margaret removed her own copy of the book from her book bag and grinned, nodding her head up and down.

"Only you could make something like literature sound fun and have some kind of purpose, Mags!" she said, wiping a quick tear from the corner
of her eye.

"So you like it? Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Yeah, a real good idea...I was hoping we could stay in touch," Mildred answered "Even if it does mean I have to read in order to do it."

"Well, you don't haaaave to read...I just thought it would be fun. Even though we won't be seeing eachother, we'll be thinking about the same
stories." Margaret took two pencils from her bag and handed one to Mildred "Let's each write our name in the book!" They both flipped to the opening page of their books.

In Margaret's flowing cursive, she wrote in hers: "Margaret Meeker, Chicago 1908".
In Mildred's childlike printing, she wrote in her own: "Mildred Bourlet, Andover NH".

They sat for a minute, looking at their books and at eachother. Mildred felt suddenly older, and years later would realize this as the day she accepted the first true challenge of her life, and
fully realized why Mags was the gold you kept, not the silver you ignored.

Miss Brownstone stepped onto the nearby porch and rang the bell to start lessons for the day.

They put their books in their knapsacks, and walked toward the schoolhouse.