Read Windmills of the Gods for Free Online

the bottom of the note. “Hey!It’s signed ‘Virgil.’ I thought you were in love with Arnold.”
    Beth snatched the note away from him. “What would you know about love?” Mary’s twelve-year-old daughter demanded. “You’re a child.”
    The pounding in Mary’s head was becoming unbearable.
    “Kids—give me a break.”
    She heard the horn of the school bus outside. Tim and Beth started toward the door.
    “Wait! You haven’t eaten your breakfasts,” Mary said.
    She followed them out into the hallway.
    “No time, Mother. Got to go.”
    “Bye, Mom.”
    “It’s freezing outside. Put on your coats and scarves.”
    “I can’t. I lost my scarf,” Tim said.
    And they were gone. Mary felt drained. Motherhood is living in the eye of a hurricane.
    She looked up as Edward came down the stairs, and she felt a glow. Even after all these years, Mary thought, he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever known. It was his gentleness that had first caught Mary’s interest. His eyes were a soft gray, reflecting a warm intelligence, but they could turn into twin blazes when he became impassioned about something.
    “Morning, darling.” He gave her a kiss. They walked into the kitchen.
    “Sweetheart—would you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, beautiful. Anything.”
    “I want to sell the children.”
    “Both of them?”
    “Both of them.”
    “When?”
    “Today.”
    “Who’d buy them?”
    “Strangers. They’ve reached the age where I can’t do anything right. Beth has become a health-food freak, and your son is turning into a world-class dunce.”
    Edward said thoughtfully, “Maybe they’re not our kids.”
    “I hope not. I’m making oatmeal for you.”
    He looked at his watch. “Sorry, darling. No time. I’m due in surgery in half an hour. Hank Cates got tangled up in some machinery. He may lose a few fingers.”
    “Isn’t he too old to still be farming?”
    “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
    Mary knew that Hank Cates had not paid her husband’s bills in three years. Like most of the farmers in the community, he was suffering from the low farm prices and the Farm Credit Administration’s indifferent attitude toward them. Many were losing farms they had worked on all their lives. Edward never pressed any of his patients for money, and many of them paid him with crops. The Ashleys had a cellar full of corn, potatoes, and wheat. One farmer had offered to give Edward a cow in payment, but when Edward told Mary about it, she said, “For heaven’s sake, tell him the treatment is on the house.”
    Mary looked at her husband now and thought again: How lucky I am.
    “Okay,” she said. “I may decide to keep the kids. I like their father a lot.”
    “To tell you the truth, I’m rather fond of their mother.” He took her in his arms and held her close. “Happy birthday, plus one.”
    “Do you still love me now that I’m an older woman?”
    “I like older women.”
    “Thanks.” Mary suddenly remembered something. “I’ve got to get home early today and prepare dinner. It’s our turn to have the Schiffers over.”
    Bridge with their neighbors was a Monday night ritual. The fact that Douglas Schiffer was a doctor and worked with Edward at the hospital made them even closer.
    Mary and Edward left the house together, bowing their heads against the relentless wind. Edward strapped himselfinto his Ford Granada and watched Mary as she got behind the wheel of the station wagon.
    “The highway is probably icy,” Edward called. “Drive carefully.”
    “You too, darling.”
    She blew him a kiss, and the two cars drove away from the house, Edward heading toward the hospital, and Mary driving toward the town of Manhattan, where the university was located, sixteen miles away.
    Two men in an automobile parked half a block from the Ashley house watched the cars leave. They waited until the vehicles were out of sight.
    “Let’s go.”
    They drove up to the house next door to the Ashleys. Rex Olds, the