Add to Cart. Bookmark. Sunkist Dream SO MICHIKO yen 3 points (1%) . Search. Browse: Translated into English eBook · Comic Literature/Novel/Essay. Read Firestarter eBook onlie. Firestarter (Page 46) eBook online read Love, Charlie. For a moment, the young librarian was almost in love. bluejeans, holding a crumpled paper bag in one hand and a Sunkist orange in the other. While Firestarter is just a novel, a made-up tale with which I hope you, reader, have. Free Sign Up And Get Free Download Ebook. Aftermath A Snapped Novel · Love And Ice The Tragic Obsessions Of Dr Elisha Kent Kane Arctic Explorer.
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Love in Sunkist book. Read 17 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Cowok sunkist? Apaan tuh? Yang jelas, Kimberly Andrea alias Kimmy,.. . She'd discovered a love more important to her than anything 10 He was wearing a vintage yellow T-shirt with a Sunkist logo on it, a baseball cap pulled. Sunkist Dream SO MICHIKO yen 3 points (1%). Release Date: . Search. Browse: Translated into English eBook · Comic Literature/Novel/Essay · Love.
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The searchlights still wildly crisscrossed the sky, revealing nothing in their beams but soft and innocuous gray-pink clouds. John shouted to make himself heard. The street was deserted but here and there among the windows of the old houses a white face could be seen peering upward into the lacerated heavens.
Some couples, encouraged by a battery of alto saxophones, hummed the popular tune as they moved within the narrow restrictions of the overcrowded floor, and the sweet music of farewell invested their faces with an entirely touching sadness. Jane danced closer to Brad than she would have dared in Malton. She pressed her cheek against the slightly stubbled curve of his jaw, and she enjoyed her awareness of his hard, slim body as if this were a rare and clandestine rendezvous with the man she loved.
Brad responded in full measure. His fingers pressed against the nape of her neck, persuading her closer, and the rhythm of his dancing was smooth and exciting.
The saxophones faded out and a cute girl with blond upswept hair slid to the microphone on the bandstand to sing the lyric. Some chorus gal Glen Van Melder brought to a frat dance. It made the leaving of her harder, and the return greatly to be wished for. Somewhere deep in his mind it compensated for this other urge to leave his set-piece civilization behind him, to plunge headlong into the war.
The sweetness of this moment made it somehow easier to go. The saxophones slid into a new and higher key, and the singer reprised the last eight bars of the song. They were mooning at their table in a remote corner of the crowded room when a roll of drums caught up their attention. The band leader stepped to the microphone. The six—an ensign, a marine, two army privates, a lieutenant, and a WAC—stood up, blinked, and sheepishly waved their hands.
The room thundered with applause and cheers. It looks awfully like him. Now he swung full around. About a million first louies around the country and Dan has to snag himself a trip to New York! Imagine running into Dan! Of all the junior officers he had served with at Fort Harrison, only Dan Stenick had stimulated him. Dan was old for a lieutenant, thirty-two, stubby and robustly good-looking as a prize fighter which he was for a time in the depression might be good-looking, and he possessed a sharp intelligence and disposed so many moods and parts in such surprising profusion that he constantly intrigued all ranks up to the commanding general.
Dan was different from anyone they had ever met. He seemed to revel in having neither background nor breeding. His life had been a patchwork of bizarre jobs, poverty, bursts of prosperity and high adventure, in the course of which he had picked up an amazing amount of knowledge on matters both scholarly and mundane. But to Brad nothing about him equaled in importance the wondrous fact that he was a completely free soul. He had no family he ever spoke of, his experience had taught him few scruples, his moods knew no consistency, and his spirit admitted no restraints.
His mood of the moment was clearly evident as he held aloft a whisky glass and dodged between tables toward where they sat. They hit the LZ on the last jump? How come you rate this trip? Cheap at half the price. Brad ordered drinks for himself and Dan.
Get it? Brad had long since become hardened to the consequences of having a wife as decorative as Jane living with him on a military post.
Now you get it? What do you mean? Next month. The real thing. Place called Adak. Dance, sweetheart? The cleft in his chin made a deep furrow. She knew the symptom. Dan knew it too. He swallowed his drink in big gulps, bit his lips, essayed a smile, then fell into a long silence.
Suddenly he got up. You were the best in the outfit. Real class. They need guys like you where it counts most. Any mug can jump. I wanted you to know because I love you, tootsie. Real good. Brad watched him until he was lost behind some couples coming off the dance floor. She would be more content about his reassignment to London.
He was drunk. They knew the time had come to go down to their room. He signed the bill and they walked hand in hand to the elevator. The moon over East Forty-ninth Street played around their wide-open window and cut sharply into the darkened room. Somewhere, probably still on the roof, the music of a dance band was faintly heard in counterpoint to honks of taxicab horns in the street far below.
She lay in the curve of his arm. Idly they watched the curtains billowing before a light warm breeze that penetrated the room and refreshed their bodies. Never loses sight of her point. Not Janie—lovely, soft Janie. She had to chase down every doubt, and know, and be reassured. Real sorry. I laid it on too thick on the staff side in your fitness report. You were a sitting duck for those War Department sharpshooters when they riffled through our fitness reports. Come down here with me.
His urge for sleep seemed to have fled. He listened to the subdued cacophony of early morning in Manhattan. He had been lucky. He was going to London instead of Adak. It was a pity in a way; he honestly believed his platoon was the best in the outfit; he would have liked to jump with it in action at least once.
But going to war was to him more than going into battle. It meant people and emotions, a civilization in turmoil.
There were probably only a few Eskimos in Adak; no emotions, no civilization in turmoil. He warmed to the thought of tomorrow and the plane to Britain. He had wanted so much to go all his life.
He had planned it for their honeymoon. But they married in July of and the papers were filled with stories of American tourists scrambling for cattle-boat space to flee the European crisis. And what an adventure to remember the rest of our lives—to be caught in a war on our honeymoon! What do you say, Janie? Then in when bombs were falling on London and people in Malton were saying how gosh-darned lucky they were to be Americans, he sat listening on the radio to the sound of bombs and Edward R.
Now he was on his way. He was going to miss Janie, but there was no connection between this strange elation and Janie. It was possible to be faithful to both dreams.
He felt her hair brush across his ear. Go to sleep. He said nothing. Must, simply must. She groped at the foot of the bed for her negligee and swung her feet to the floor. More asleep than awake she maneuvered across the room to a dressing table.
When she returned she handed him a tiny box. It was a round gold medallion glittering on a thin gold chain.
Engraved on the face of it were two semicircular arrows, each pursuing the other to make a perfect circle. Let me put it on you. He kissed her. He looked at the medallion and at her tousled head half buried in a pillow, and he wondered what myriad and measureless moments, what tests and dangers and challenges must pass behind him before they might come together again. Occasionally a thud like a bass drum being thumped in a far part of the village penetrated the room and caused the ornamental pewter mugs hanging from the low ceiling to shiver on their hooks.
Neither this nor the chatty voice of Mr. Pepper, the publican, who was bemoaning to three dour clients how Home Guard shenanigans on the common were ruining the finest cricket pitch in the Midlands, was capable of impinging on the remaining minutes John had salvaged for his farewell drink with Valerie.
He had less than ten minutes if he was to keep to his schedule. Pepper, sensing a special occasion, had surreptitiously produced two pink gins, but a penalty was attached to this rare privilege. They had to listen to a pronouncement on the scarcity of pink gin and the reasons therefor. He had so much to say and wanted so much merely to look at her.
Being incapable of doing both at the same time, he studied the grain of the heavy oak table at which they sat. She watched him over the rim of her glass and slid a reassuring hand across the table. You know what I mean. Do you intend to keep on staying here?
Father is getting well enough so Mala can take care of him. Like a yearling rather grown up and still tethered. I know how difficult the brigadier can be; I had a year of him. You deserve a bit more out of the war than that.
I hope you get a posting in London. Oh, the Jerries send over odds and sods, just enough to keep the place on its toes. In the first place God knows what will happen in the desert, rather silly to think of anything beyond the fighting. With taxes and all, Derek will be lucky if he can keep Smallhill in one piece. Afraid I never was. This sounds terribly serious. John was a good officer, brave and above all thoughtful of his men.
Watching him stride to the door, his slight body erect but rather lost in battle dress, she found herself fighting back tears. Not even hours, she thought bitterly. She was not in love with him; this she knew with the certainty of one who has dreamed on love and has prepared a place for it in the unfolding pattern of her life.
He had drawn himself closer to her, gradually, shyly uncovering new and gentle facets of his character. One day all the facets might suddenly merge into a single dazzling portraiture and she would be in love with him. She knew a desperate urge to give herself completely to this man who, going into battle, asked so little. It was no more sinful, she thought, than the bleak, rigid orders of commanders like her father that sent men advancing to their deaths with the blessings of their country and under the signs of God.
It was less sinful, much, much less sinful. And tell me quickly. It was a lark then. No worries, everything found, and lots of Saturday-night spirits. His mouth had begun to twitch slightly.
Unlucky you! Please please go on. You know, grousing is the most wonderful pastime in the army. You grouse, grouse, grouse about everything. I need someone overseas just as badly as you need someone at home.
The war is empty and ridiculous without someone to be proud of and frightened for. It was quiet outside. The searchlights had been snuffed out. The rain falling on the village made a velvet sound in the blackness. Good-by, Val. In the darkness she could barely see his face and the sensitive line of his mouth. May I? She disengaged her hands and drew his head down. She parted her lips and kissed him long and shamelessly. Tears welled up from the corners of her eyes.
At length she found his hands once more. He looked chagrined for a moment, then pressed his lips against her cheek and left her quickly. She stood in the roadway and watched the rear light of the vehicle move off into darkness. Double glass doors gave on a handsome reception area at the end of the hall. Written below the two words the librarian had spoken to her was this motto: "All the News That Fits.
The receptionist was a young woman with clear gray eyes. She looked at Charlie for several seconds in silence, taking in the crumpled Shop and Save bag, the orange, the slightness of the girl herself; she was slender almost to the point of emaciation, but tall for a child, and her face had a kind of serene, calm glow.
She's going to be so beautiful, the receptionist thought. Her voice was low, but it was clear and firm. And something to show.
Charlie smiled. It was the smile that had so dazzled the librarian.
Among the unpleasant ones is the undeniable fact that the U. She had eluded the Shop again--but wherever she was, she was alone. The only consolation was that this time she didn't have so far to hitch. Standing in front of his desk was a little girl in a green blouse and bluejeans. In one hand she held a paper shopping bag.
She was woefully thin, and the young man wondered what the hell her mother and father had been feeding her He listened to her question carefully and respectfully. Her daddy, she said, had told her that if you had a really hard question, you had to go to the library to find the answer, because at the library they knew the answers to almost all the questions.
Behind them, the great lobby of the New York Public Library echoed dimly; outside, the stone lions kept their endless watch. When she was done, the librarian recapitulated, ticking off the salient points on his fingers.
He seemed about to speak, then held up a finger and went and conferred with another librarian. He came back to the little girl and spoke two words. He found the address and then printed it carefully on a square of yellow paper. You want a couple of bucks for lunch?
For a moment, the young librarian was almost in love. The paper bag was filled with quarters. Before he could say anything else--ask her if she had taken a hammer to her piggybank, or what--she was gone.