Shades of Gray by Tim O’Brien Page A

again, he fixed his attention on the floating cork and tried to ignore the pounding in his temples.
    Finally, after what seemed like hours, Hank came and sat beside him on the bank. The corner of the envelope was sticking out of his pocket. It took all of Will’s self-control not to make a grab for it.
    â€œThese bugs sure are bad today,” Hank complained, waving the letter in front of his face like a fan.
    â€œFishing’s not much better,” said Will.
    â€œWell, you can stay here if you want to, but I’m going over to the store,” Hank said at last, slapping at a large fly that lit on his knee. Stuffing the envelope back into his pocket, he motioned for Amos to follow him, and the two boys sauntered off.
    Will felt a blinding flash of rage. If only Hank weren’t so much bigger than he was! But he’d get even with him for this somehow.
    All through that long, muggy afternoon Will sat by the pond, brushing away the troublesome gnats. Why weren’t thefish biting? And how long should he wait before he went over to the store and asked Mr. Riley for the letter?
    Suddenly Will sensed that something was different. It was a moment or so before he realized that he no longer heard the creaking of the mill wheel. And then he saw how long the shadows were. It was later than he’d thought! Quickly he pulled his line from the water—noticing with disgust that his bait was gone—and stuck the barb of the hook into the cork. Emptying the remaining grasshoppers from the jar, he hurried toward the store. Mr. Riley was almost ready to lock up when Will got there.
    â€œI—I came for my letter, Mr. Riley,” he said, panting.
    â€œYour letter? Didn’t Hank give you that letter?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œHe didn’t bring it to you over at the pond?”
    Will didn’t know what to say. Embarrassed, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
    After a long moment the storekeeper turned away, swearing under his breath. He went behind the counter and took a handful of letters from a box on one of the shelves. Sorting through them quickly, he found the one addressed to Will. Mr. Riley handed it to him and said grimly, “You can be sure that Hank will hear from me about this.”
    Will didn’t recognize the handwriting on the envelope, but with a pang of disappointment he knew at once that it wasn’t Matt’s. He turned the envelope over and saw Doc Martin’s return address written on the flap. Why would Doc Martin be writing to him? It was all he could do to wait until he was outside before he tore the envelope open and began to read.
    August 10, 1865
    Dear Will,
    When I left you at your aunt’s farm in June, I found myself questioning the wisdom of that arrangement. Not because of your feelings about your uncle’s refusal to fight for the Confederacy, but because I am sure that your dear mother had no idea of the hardships you would have to face there.
    My older sister, a widow, has come to live with me, so now I can offer you a proper home. I am sure your dear mother would not, under the circumstances, blame us for not continuing to follow her instructions for your care.
    You are a fine boy, Will, and I would be proud to raise you as my son. But you must make your own decision about this. Take your time and think it over carefully, and then write and let me know if I should come for you.
    Sincerely and affectionately yours,
    George Martin
    P.S. I’ve hired Lizzy as my housekeeper.
    A feeling of elation swept over Will. He could go back to Winchester! He’d see Matt almost every day, and there’d be school in the fall! He closed his eyes and pictured the high-ceilinged, well-furnished rooms of Doc’s large brick house and Lizzy there to pamper him like she had in the old days at home.
    But what would his aunt’s family say when he told them he was leaving? He hoped they wouldn’t think that he was