The Point of Vanishing, Maryka Biaggio [top inspirational books TXT] 📗

to you faster than our graceful schooner could.

I share your excitement about college, and I hope it’ll come to pass. I always fancied it something I’d enjoy. But my seafaring life makes me a nomad, and I’ve contented myself with studying on my own. And having you to discuss Conrad and Melville with is all the classroom I could ever need.

Visiting here has got me interested in the territory of Alaska, and I bought a book about its history. Do you know that Russia sold Alaska to the United States in 1867, partly to keep the territory out of British hands? They called it Seward’s Folly then. Too bad Mr. Seward didn’t outlive the joke because everybody stopped laughing when gold was discovered. The territory is still an explorer’s delight, and I find myself intrigued by its expanse. I have this dream, wild as it may be, of us settling in Alaska, buying a fishing boat, and living off the sea’s bounty. You must tell me if it’s a dream you could share.

So, my reading will take me away from Conrad to history on the southward sail. Only I’ve ordered The Voyage of the Norman D and hope it will await me upon my return.

For I remain,

Your faithful shipmate,

Ethan

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

BARBARA AT FIFTEEN

Pasadena, September 1929

A knock sounded at the door of her attic bedroom in the Russell’s house. Before she could respond, her mother burst in. “Bar, Millicent Brown is going to help us out. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Barbara put aside the story she’d been reading, Conrad’s “The Secret Sharer,” and sat up on the bed. She’d darkened her room to keep out the afternoon’s mounting heat. Her bedside lamp cast a mere puddle of light around her pillow.

“It’s like a cave in here.” Her mother flicked on the bare overhead bulb.

Barbara flinched at the brightness and blinked at her mother. “Help us how?”

“With money to get me to Honolulu. So I can do research at Bishop Museum and start the book.”

Honolulu. The very place they’d discovered the majestic Vigilant. The beginning of that momentous month communing with Ethan on the sparkling Pacific. Perhaps the Vigilant would sail to Honolulu sometime soon. “When do we leave?”

“Oh, you’re staying here.” Her mother smiled in that cocksure way of hers. “Dr. Schultz says he can get you enrolled in Pasadena Junior College. It’s not the best college, but it’ll pave your way to a respectable university.”

Barbara took in a quick breath. College. Yes, she did want to go, but not now. What she most wanted was to be with Ethan. A rendezvous would be much more likely in Honolulu than Pasadena. “I’d rather go with you.”

Her mother strode to the bed, plunked down on it, and patted Barbara’s knee. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this for you.”

“I could start college in Honolulu,” she said. “Or here when we come back.”

“There’s not enough money for both of us to go.” Her mother flapped a hand at her. “And I need to concentrate on the book.”

It was just like her mother, springing one of her made-carefully-as-a-match-house plans on her like this. “You’re leaving me here by myself?”

“Of course not.” Her mother exhaled a noisy breath. “Dr. and Mrs. Schultz said they’ll take you in. The college is within walking distance of their house.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Four months. Or longer if I can get a position at Bishop Museum.”

“If you take me to Honolulu, I’ll help with the book.”

“It’s out of the question. Mrs. Brown will only fund travel for one.”

So, her mother had made up her mind. She shook off her disappointment: The prospect of being on her own did intrigue. Her mother would be far away. She’d be free of her domineering reach. “But I’ll need some money. You can’t leave me penniless.”

“You’ll have an allowance. But Mrs. Brown will only allot one two-month payment at a time. You’ll need to make it last.”

Egad, on her own for the first time! Such things she could do: come and go as she pleased; get a roaring start on her new novel, and invite Ethan to visit. They could hike California’s lofty foothills, roam its picturesque seashore, and talk for hours—without her mother watching her every move.

✭

Her first classroom ever. The first teacher, other than her mother. Her first day of college. Sure, she was nervous, but she’d write Ethan about it. That way, she could imagine he was right beside her the whole time.

Her mother had explained she’d be more advanced than her fellow students, so she mustn’t let them hold her back. She should push herself to master her lessons and then take matters in hand and learn even more than was required. This, her mother said, would be the start of her brilliant university career.

Barbara stood near a sprawling one-story building studying a map of campus. Ah, there it was, the Collegiate Classroom Building. Glancing at her schedule, she noted the room number for her English 36 class and set off on the sidewalk, bisecting a treeless lawn.

A few minutes before ten o’clock, she strode into a room with a clunky oak desk at the head of the class, a blackboard covering the width of the stark room, and slanting wooden desks arranged in strict rows, about forty of them. The teacher—at least she presumed he was the teacher, for he stood in front chatting with a girl in the first row—wore neatly creased blue pants, a white cotton shirt, and a blue tie with wide grey stripes. But no suit jacket. She wondered why a teacher, even one as young as this one, would dress so casually.

Many of the students bent toward each other, nodding and chatting. She spotted an empty seat next to a girl who sat primly poised over her desk.

Barbara headed down the aisle toward her. “Hi, I’m Barbara.”

The skinny brunette looked up at her with the hint of a smile. “Hello, I’m Rachel.”

Barbara slid into her seat. “This is my first class