"Ed Howdershelt - Anne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howdershelt Ed)

Barnell expected us to study, after hours or not. If we had nothing to study,
she had us help her grade papers and discuss the reasons why some pass and
some fail in both school and life.
She was a serious teacher who taught as a friend more than as an authority
figure. The two weeks became six weeks for me. I enjoyed helping her and being
around her, so I kept coming to detention. She asked me why once, thinking
there might be something wrong at home.
"Nothing's wrong," I told her. "TV is a waste of time and I've read
everything in the house." She let the matter drop and didn't ask again.
In the last week of the semester, Mrs. Barnell told us about having bought
a small farm in Mesquite and her plans to move during the first week of June.
I immediately offered to help her and Jim volunteered the use of his truck.
With something to look forward to, the last days of school seemed to drag by.
Jim's old Ford pickup rolled into the drive at about 8:30. We picked up
his girlfriend, Judy, on the way. She was barely awake and making no real
effort to wake further, but she was dressed for work, in jeans and an old
shirt, her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. We found the apartment in a
maze of two-story buildings and rang the doorbell.
Several moments passed; I touched the button again. The door opened
slightly. Mrs. Barnell was wearing a large man's shirt and a pair of fuzzy
slippers. She looked at us rather blankly for a moment before the door opened
and we were ushered inside. Books, boxes, dishes, and other items were all
over the place.
"Thank you for coming," she said, "I'm sorry I'm not ready yet, but it was
a long night. Get comfortable. I'll be right back."
She left us to our own devices in the dining room, bare legs flashing as
she hurried down the hall to the bedroom, dodging stacks of boxes already
filled and hopping over a small pile of stuff yet to be packed. We spent a
minute marveling at how un-teacherlike she looked in the morning and found
places to sit until Mrs. Barnell returned.
 "Great, great legs," said Jim. Judy slapped his arm soundly.
"Yup," I said, heading to the kitchen. I found the makings and soon had a
pot of coffee brewing. Judy claimed the couch and dozed. Jim was getting to
know a big Siamese cat that had noisily appeared. A search of cabinets
produced cups and spoons that hadn't been packed.
"Coffee's on in about five minutes, Mrs. B.," I yelled.
"Oh, great! Thank you!" she called back. The cat jumped to the countertop
to supervise my efforts. I ruffled his chin fuzz and said hello to him.
"Yaaow," he said, moving against my hand. Mrs. Barnell had come into the
kitchen; she accepted the cup from me and took a sip, watching Kelly.
"He's not usually that friendly with men. Mmmm..! Who taught you to make
coffee?" She seemed a bit surprised at the contents of her cup.
"Taught myself, I guess," I said, "Why?"
"You aren't concerned that it might be too strong for someone else?"
"Nope. They can water it down themselves if they want pale coffee."
"Remind me to try you as a bartender when you're old enough," she said,
"This is how I like it, too. Frank used to just stain the water a little. He
hated my coffee and I hated his."
"Frank? Oh, your...uhm..."
"Don't worry about it. Husband is the word. I'm not going to get a case of