The Thorn and the Blossom by Theodora Goss

Author:Theodora Goss [Goss, Theodora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-59474-557-7
Publisher: Quirk Books
Published: 2012-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

Brendan saw her before she saw him, a girl about his own age, wearing a gray cardigan, faded jeans, and sneakers. She had long auburn hair in a braid down her back, and she was standing in front of the antiques shop, looking into the window. He was trying to decide whether to approach her and say hello—he was usually shy around women, especially attractive ones, but she looked like a tourist and he could at least ask if she needed directions—when he saw her turn and walk toward the bookstore.

He ducked into the alley between the bookstore and the pub, ran toward the garden, and entered through the back door, letting it shut behind him with a bang. He’d spent the entire morning in this room, which his father used as an office. A desk occupied one corner, but most of it was filled with books. There were books in shelves reaching to the ceiling, books on a large table where his father showed clients his oldest manuscripts, books in boxes on the floor. He was supposed to be cataloging those books and had gone through about half of them when the dust had become too much for him and he’d gone over to the pub for a pint of beer, which he’d drunk with a couple of the boys he’d gone to school with, here in Clews.

They were fishermen now, like most of the men in Clews. He still felt he was one of them, but he knew that, when they spoke to him, they didn’t speak as freely as they did among themselves. He’d become too different, young Brendan Thorne who had gone off to Oxford and was now working toward a graduate degree in English literature. On the one hand, they respected his learning and would refer questions to him—about politics, for example, which he knew almost nothing about. On the other hand, what sort of profession was that for a man, reading books? Not like going out to sea, risking your life every day to bring home the fish in nets, as their fathers and grandfathers had done before them. Most of them already had wives, and several had children on the way. When he was with them, he felt both at home and as though he were a stranger who’d come to this town—one of the summer visitors. Well, he was a summer visitor now, spending the school year at Oxford. It was always strange, coming back to the place where he’d grown up—the Anglican church, the main street and its shops, the harbor bustling with fishing boats. Farms still surrounded the town, because Clews had never grown. Unlike Pengarth, which had a big hotel and a historical museum displaying a gold ship that had been dug up on Pen Tor.

He opened the office door, walked through, and said, “Were you looking for something specific?” It wasn’t a brilliant line, but it was the only one he could think of at the moment.

She was

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