Read The Mulberry Bush for Free Online Page B

I’m not so sure about you.”
    Teresa’s eyes had a resentful glare, and Virginia felt her own skin prickling uncomfortably.
    â€œI don’t understand, Teresa,” she began.
    â€œI think you understand. I’d have sworn that you’d be honest with me—but it seems I was deceived. When I had this fall, I had Mary call up your family in Tennessee. They hadn’t seen you since last Christmas and they had no idea where you were. I suppose it’s that heel of a Mike Paull? Somehow I didn’t expect that sort of thing from you, Virginia. Not that it makes any difference—as far as business is concerned. I’m a modern woman, I hope—but not too modern to have illusions yet, to look for fineness in a few people—”
    â€œTeresa,” said Virginia quickly, knowing that this would have to be set right at once, “I was married to Michael Paull in New York—on Saturday. We planned not to tell anyone till Mike comes back from South America—so I didn’t lie to you. It was a family matter, that took me away—marrying a husband is still a family matter, isn’t it? But please don’t tell anyone about it—not till we’re ready to announce it.”
    Teresa looked blank and her lips drew straight and dry. Then she laughed, her brittle, dismissing laugh.
    â€œAnd I thought you were being cleverly wicked! And instead, you were merely being a fatuous, adolescent idiot! Mike Paull! Why didn’t you marry the wind? It does stay in one place at least part of the time!”
    â€œMike is dear and fine—and we’re going to be happy,” Virginia said firmly, “And I’ll be very grateful if you won’t be cynical about my husband, Teresa.”
    â€œGood heavens! It’s your privilege to tangle up your life in any absurd way you please—just so long as it doesn’t interfere with my business. And I won’t talk about it—not even to Mary. But you can’t keep a thing like that quiet, you know—it always leaks out somehow—and what’s the use of secrecy, anyway? If you’re married, you’re married. Get on back to the office now, and show up here promptly after lunch. Pack some fairly warm clothes—Colorado weather is tricky in October.”
    Virginia had never flown before, and a cold, nervous clutch at her stomach did not relax when the plane lifted and she was high in the silent sky, with only darkness outside the windows and an occasional drifting wraith of cloud. So she sat stiffly, gripping the heavy briefcase Teresa had consigned to her, trying to remember all that she had been instructed to do.
    Names first. Always call a man by his name. She had to memorize those. And the figures for last season.
    â€œWe sent you ninety people this year, Mr. Brown, as you may remember—”
    Again and again she went over it all mechanically, trying not to listen to the motors, not to wait rigidly for something grim to happen. She got into her berth, making a show of not being nervous, a little embarrassed by the stewardess’ anxious attentions. She hung up her skirt and blouse and took off her shoes, then crouched, wrapped in a robe, holding her breath when the plane descended, relaxing in brief relief when it was still, catching her breath and holding on when it rose again.
    She was not airsick, that was something to be thankful for. And somewhere, far above the earth, too, was Mike. Flying unafraid, asleep probably, with these same stars shedding pale radiance on silver wings, with this same south wind moving past his window before it came to trail thin scarfs and sashes of pale mist past the dark glass so close to her shoulder.
    â€œThe two of us—high above the world—roaring away from each other as fast as we can,” she thought.
    Life was strange. She had a feeling that for her it would always be strange. That the little house with the sink-strainer and the