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Show Nettie, Page 103 Nettie sat on her bed and unlaced her high-topped, black shoes. She peeled off her stockings and rubbed her aching feet. Standing, she moved stiffly to the night stand, poured the pitcher of water into a basin. She sat the basin on the floor in front of, and herself in, her one chair. Sighing gratefully for the comforing warmth Nettie lowered her feet into the water and relaxed a little. For the first time, Nettie allowed her thoughts to wander over the evening. She smiled as she remembered the admiration of the crowd in the dining room. The attention pleased Nettie and she savored it for a long time in her mind. Everyone seemed happier after the singing. Nettie exulted in the joy of having been admired and appreciated. But as she pictured the faces of her admirers she remembered also a kind of longing, a sadness evident in their countenances. Quickly, Nettie glanced around the room to divert her mind. She wanted to avoid what those faces were telling her. She tried to pull her thoughts away and not dwell on the sadness she had glimpsed. Somehow she had something in common with those people. She knew it and felt it but her mind fought against acknowledging the link between them. In spite of herself the thought intruded and forced its presence upon her. It was then she realized tears were running freely down her face and dropping on her folded hands. "Not home for Christmas," Nettie murmured. "They're not home and neither am I," and she lowered her head and wept. The tears were the first Nettie had shed since leaving Lovell earlier that year. Her all-consuming goal had been first to walk again, |
