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The Bridges of Madison. County a novel. Robert James Waller. ______. READ ME FIRST! This eBook file is for my personal archive use only. These files are. Internet: rainbowgiraffe.info PIANO/VOCAL THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY. [1] (script page 1). TO BUILD A HOME (2/3/14) Music & Lyrics by. The book I read is The Bridges of Madison County. The author is Robert James Waller. The book contains pages and I have read it all. It's a novel. The main .

The Bridges Of Madison County Pdf

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Itinerary for “The Bridges of Madison County”. Begin the day at Madison County Chamber of Commerce's Welcome Center, located at 73 Jefferson Street in. Editorial Reviews. rainbowgiraffe.info Review. When Robert Kincaid drives through the heat and dust The Bridges of Madison County by [Waller, Robert James]. Bridges of Madison County (PDF) [Robert James Waller] on rainbowgiraffe.info *FREE * shipping on qualifying offers.

Even as a child, his teachers recognized how intelligent the young boy was. However, they also noticed that Robert was a remote child who was difficult to reach. His mother knew that what the teachers told her was the truth. Robert often played alone and didn't seem to need companionship. Despite his brilliance, there was no money for college for the eighteen-year-old Robert.

His father died shortly after Robert graduated from high school. With the Great Depression looming, there weren't many options for a young man who had to support his mother. Robert joined the military to fight in World War II. He became a photographer's assistant and it was then that he discovered what would prove to be his life's passion. While he loved the technical aspects of photography, he most enjoyed the artistry that he immediately saw as integral in becoming a successful photographer.

After he served his four years, he returned to New York City and became a fashion photographer's assistant. He became involved with some of the beautiful models but no long term relationships developed. Some years later, he married Marian.

However, Robert was a photographer for National Geographic and had assignments all over the world. Marion told him that she knew there was something within him but that she couldn't reach it. After five years, the marriage ended under the strain of his remoteness and his lengthy absences. Francesca was a young school teacher in Naples, Italy.

She longed to fall in love and be married. She has no friends. It's the woman who's in control of these situations. Men don't know which end is up till a woman points. Delaney acts as if nothing is wrong. Yet, she knows everyone knows and everyone knows she knows they know, yet no one says a word.

She sits at the counter. Francesca hears the gossip continue in hushed tones: Money don't download happiness. I must say, she's taking it well. Him and that Redfield woman. First one then the other. And then I'd laugh. Make sure they heard me laughing. Eleanor nods. Not being able to stand it, Francesca rises.

She must pass them on the way to the counter, in order to pay. Eleanor immediately stops her. So, everybody got off okay last night? Have a good day. Henry nods back. As she exits, they whisper. Besides, she's too young for "the changes. What a tragedy.

What happened? At the counter, Francesca pays up. She looks to Mrs. Delaney and tries to smile, but Mrs. Delaney works hard at not making eye contact with anyone. Suddenly, she rises telling the waitress: She exits quickly.

Francesca pays up as the waitress adds: As she crosses from one corner to another, she notices down the side street -- Mrs. Delaney sitting alone in her own car, sobbing. Unable to bear the humiliation, she stole herself away to cry. Francesca wants to help but feels useless. She quickly heads for her truck. It is a scorcher. She is barefoot, her blouse hanging out of her jeans, her hair fastened up by a tortoise shell comb.

Camera begins a slow move into close-up, as she sips her tea and lets her mind wander. Back in town, Francesca slides into Mrs. Delaney's car. She embraces the woman who cries into her arms. Delaney's car is surrounded by townpeople staring into it. Francesca hugs Mrs.

Delaney closer to her in defiance. Delaney's car drives up to a train station. She and Francesca exit with suitcases. They are surrounded by news reporters as they make their way to the train. Is it true Cary Grant has proposed to you? And I've accepted. You're more than half her age.

He said no one had ever been that honest with him and he falls in love with me. I'm also taking Mrs. Delaney away from this town. She'll be living with Cary and I in Beverly Hills. She boards the train with Mrs. Tired of her fantasies, Francesca looks up to the sun to clear her mind. It is blinding. When she looks back out onto the road, her vision is momentarily blurred.

Until, slowly, out of the blue, she sees: A TRUCK driving toward her house, kicking up dust, like some phantom appearing through the etheric plane. Francesca isn't even sure it's real.

The truck slows down and turns into her driveway. Francesca watches with suspicious curiosity as: Flashing his blue eyes in her direction, he smiles and says: Francesca remains guarded. Well, you're not that lost. He laughs.

She puts down her tea and crosses to him. Francesca finds herself scanning his body. It's only about two miles from here. Which way? Pause as Robert awaits directions and Francesca scans a sudden impulse. Robert is pleased, but a bit surprised as is Francesca who anxiously recants: I can take you or tell you.

It's up to you. I don't care. Either way. Robert smiles finding her sudden nervousness charming. He drives off. Francesca knows they've been seen.

Slightly annoyed by Iowain neighborliness, she turns to Robert and with some defiance says: I was just going to have some iced tea then split the atom, but that can wait. Robert watches her as she turns and heads back to the house. He watches her lift her blouse and tuck it into her jeans, revealing her shapely hips and buttocks.

He nods as if he knew all along and begins to make room on the front seat for Francesca. On the door, she reads: Robert is clearing away paper cups, banana peels, paper bags, photography equipment.

In the back, Francesca notices a cooler and a guitar case. Let me get this out of the way. He hauls a case of film from the front to the back. Francesca notices his tanned, muscular arm move in one graceful sweep. All set. Francesca smiles. They both get into the truck. Francesca is enjoying the breeze against her face. She looks out at the vast expanse. It depresses her. Do you know what I mean? I think it's from the loam in the soil. This very rich, earthy kind of No, that's not right.

Can you smell it? It's a great smell. Francesca wants to know more about him. Lived there till I was twenty or so and then moved to Chicago when I got married. When did you move back? I'm not from here. I was born in Italy. Francesca smiles Whereabouts in Italy?

I've been there. But it looked so pretty I got off and stayed for a few days. Breathtaking country.

Francesca is overcome by the idea of such freedom. Excuse me a sec. He reaches over with one arm, brushing slightly against her thigh. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out a pack of Camels and a Zippo lighter. Francesca, who doesn't usually smoke, accepts. She takes a cigarette out of the pack. Robert drops the pack and, with the same hand, flicks open the Zippo and ignites it. Francesca leans over. The road is bumpy and a breeze blows through both windows.

She cups her hands around his to shelter the flame. She feels his skin for a brief moment. She sits back and enjoys the ride and her cigarette as Robert lights up.

They drive. Robert takes out some equipment. I'm shooting tomorrow morning. I just need to do some prep work. He smiles and takes his equipment to the bridge. Francesca slowly follows. She watches his body move. Catching herself, she stops. Robert sets up a tripod in the small ravine beneath the bridge, pointing a view finder up as he plans his shots. Francesca walks through the bridge, noticing lovers names scrawled on the inside: Through a crack in one of the wooden planks, Francesca watches like a voyeur as Robert works.

She sees him take out a handkerchief and wipe the sweat off his neck, then inside his shirt and around his chest. Without knowing where Francesca is, Robert speaks aloud: Francesca moves quickly away from the plank, like a Peeping Tom who's been caught. Inside that leather bag with the pockets is a package of lens cleaners. Would you grab me one? Francesca obliges, grateful for something to occupy her.

Inside the truck, she scans for the leather bag. She sees it next to a duffel bag. The bag' zipper is opened. She glimpses inside as Robert's personal things -- clothes, socks, underwear, shaving kit.

Life magazines from July and August, one depicting the death of Aldai Stevenson; the other a cover photo of the Watts riots. She grabs the leather bag and opens it. At the bridge, Francesca looks for Robert in the raving but he is gone. She looks through the bridge to the other end and sees only the tripod.

No Robert. She walks through the bridge and out the other end. She finds Robert bent over, picking flowers. You caught me. He rises with a bouquet of wildflowers for her. Francesca smiles, not knowing how to take this. I mean, as a sign of appreciation? I'm not that out of date, am I? He flings the flowers down. He wipes his hands furiously. I was kidding. Robert looks at her with a shocked smirk, secretly liking her strange behavior.

I don't know what -- I'm sorry. They're lovely. She begins picking up the flowers. I've been in a very I've never done anything like that before. I'm just Robert looks at her like she's nuts. Francesca tries to dig herself out of her hole.

The Bridges Of Madison County

Robert enjoys offering no help. Adlai Stevenson dying last month. She rises with the flowers. Robert gives her a friendly pat on the arm. He continues with his work. Francesca expresses relief and embarrassment behind his back. Robert drives while he fiddles with the radio. All he can find are country stations. There's not much of a selection. Wait a minute Francesca's having a great time. Francesca nods, as if to say hello and goodbye in the same moment.

She gets out of the car, closes the door, then asks: Francesca is making iced tea. Robert sits back down at the kitchen table.

With her back to him, Robert never takes his eyes off her. She turns and crosses to him, with the tea. Francesca smiles and sips her own. She watches him gulp down the tea so fast, some of it dribbles down the side of his face and neck. Francesca finds it sexy. He empties it. Robert nods and he pulls out his cigarettes. Robert lights up as he watches her fix another iced tea. He watches her slip off one boot, then the other -- never missing a beat of her preparation.

He can't help eyeing her body. When she returns, she also has the flowers he picked for her arranged in a Casper the Friendly Ghost jelly glass. She places them on the table and sits. It was rude. I think I just got nervous for some reason. She likes that.

The something-Motor Inn. I haven't checked in yet. No more I don't think. Where's your family? My daughter's entering a prize steer. How old? Michael's 17 and Carolyn's It's awful.

They're awful. I can't stand them. But in reality, Francesca chooses instead to say: Things change. One of the laws of nature. People are always so afraid of change.

But if you look at it like it's something you can count on happening, it's actually a comfort. Not many things you can count on for sure. Except I'm one of the people it frightens. I'd call that a change. I met him while I was living in Naples. I didn't know where Iowa was. I only cared that it was America. And of course, being with Richard.

As Francesca thinks of an answer, she looks over to the entranceway between the kitchen and the front hall and sees: Richard standing there in his underwear, reaching over his shoulder. I mean yes, he's clean but he's also other things. He's a very hard worker. Very honest. Very caring. Good father. Very clean. They drink. Francesca thinks she sounds like an idiot. Francesca looks at him.

She wants to tell the truth, but holds back. Robert smiles. I won't tell anyone. Surprised, Francesca looks at him oddly -- as if he already knows and is giving her permission.

She covers her mouth, like a reflex -- worried someone heard. Robert just smiles and nods. I hate it! I hate the people. Everybody knows everybody's business, I mean it's nice now and then, they're always there to help out, but that's just it, it's like they're waiting for something awful to happen to help out and when nothing awful is happening, then they just sit around and talk about what is happening which is none of their business.

I want to kill them sometimes for how cruel they can be -- Camera begins slowly moving out to a wider angle Poor woman can't even be cheated on without the grocery man knowing about it -- no one respects anyone's privacy.

You're not even safe in your own home! I live in fear of that door opening and having a peach cobbler shoved at me She continues as we: Her "confession" took a lot out offer. She sits up. She feels exposed. But also, relieved.

You sure you're all right? You uncorked a bottle. From what I can tell, I got here just in time. Any later and you'd have made the front page, running down Main Street naked, smoking Camels out of your butt. We don't even know each other. You haven't said anything you don't have a right to. And if anybody tells you different -- you just send them to me. He turns to exit. Francesca surprises herself. She doesn't want him to go. So would I. I don't get many dinner invitations on the job.

It would be a welcome change. She glances out the window and sees: His shirt is off and he is washing himself. Francesca finds herself staring, a bit open mouthed. He has a muscular, firm body. She watches how the water cascades over his body. How he seems so unashamed, so "in his skin," moving with such strength and grace.

Robert pauses and looks out over the open pasture. The cold water feels good. Since the pump is the back of the house, hidden from the road, no one can see him. He decides to take off his pants and cool himself further.

Francesca begins watching this in shock until she has to literally pull herself away from the window with such a force that she rams herself into a chest of drawers, knocking over an array of perfume bottles and a mirror. She deftly catches a falling bottle and freezes. Taking a breath, she pulls herself together.

She replaces the bottle and heads for the bathroom quite composed, then, without warning, makes an immediate degree turn and heads back to the window to sneak a peek. Seeing him, she gasps. Watching him, she is possessed by some very frightening feelings and runs from the window, into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Robert is at his truck, in his pants, changing into a fresh shirt.

Robert enters with some of his gear. Heat isn't too forgiving out there. He does. Men cook. We don't all eat bananas with our feet, ya know. They stand side by side. Francesca hands him a stack of carrots and a knife.

Tony Bennett's up-tempo tone plays over a series of images of Francesca and Robert talk and prepare dinner. Occasionally, a hand brushes against another as it reaches for something.

But instead of the usual silence that surrounds Johnson family eating, Francesca is mesmerized by Robert as he manages to eat and tell a story. No, wait, it gets better. He stands up and acts it out for her. I have three cameras around my neck, a tripod in one hand and my pants down around my ankles.

I thought this was a private bush. I look up and this gorilla, this female gorilla, is staring at me with what can best be described as the most lascivious expression I've ever seen on a female with so much body hair.

Francesca laughs I freeze. In this position. She comes towards me and She throws a napkin at him. Except for the engagement part.

She wouldn't have me, although I still get a Valentine every year. Francesca is laughing so hard she can't breath. Robert loves making her laugh.

I've tried. My writing's too technical, I think.

Problem of being a journalist too long is you stop giving yourself permission to invent. I better just stick to making pictures. You really love what you do, don't you?

I think that's why they're obsessions. I wouldn't say that. National Geographic isn't exactly the hub of artistic inspiration. They like their wild life in focus and without any personal comment. I don't mind really. I'm not artist. I'd faced that a long time ago. It's the course of being well-adjusted.

I'm too normal. He looks at her in surprise. She catches herself again. When there was a particular student who made a difference. I know they're all supposed to, but it's not true. You tend to single out one or two you think you can contribute something to. I know one of them went on to Medical school. And Richard didn't like my working. I've never thought about it Unless you're tired of talking about it. You don't get out much, do you?

Francesca smiles, a little embarrassed. That was It's all right. I just meant, it might be a little dull for you, telling all this to some housewife in the middle of nowhere. It's not nowhere. And it's not dull. Francesca smiles again, this time relieved. Francesca settles in to listen, never taking her eyes off of him.

It's another world. Not just the people and the cultures but the land, the colors you see at dawns and dusks -- and the life there. It charges every molecule of air. Francesca is fascinated, being drawn into his imagery. ROBERT cont'd It's tangible -- the moment to moment of life and death, the co-habitation of man and beast, of beast and beast, who'll survive, who won't -- and there's no judgement about it.

No right or wrong or imposed morality. It's just life. It's a voyeurs paradise really because those animals don't want anybody in their business. You can watch but at a distance. Lights begin to dim as Francesca is so taken in by his story, she begins to actually see what he is describing. The truck was old so I guess the sound of the motor muffled this kind of rumbling in the distance -- until finally, it was upon us like, like a hundred thunder claps all at once Robert turns to look out the window and sees: Robert excitedly instructs the driver: The driver veers off towards the stampede as Robert opens his door and makes his way to the flatbed part of the truck with his camera.

The truck takes its position within this breathtaking force of wildlife, as giraffes, zebras and gazelles surround it -- all going in the same direction. Robert stands in the truck, shooting as fast as he can. The truck races to keep up with the animals.

Robert is so pumped he can hardly catch his breath. Suddenly, the force and beauty of these creatures causes him to lower his camera. He is unable to film it because it overwhelms him. He just stands there in awe and lets out a primal scream.

The Bridges of Madison County

The animals gradually veer off to where the truck can no longer follow. Robert watches them disappear into the distance. Robert smiles at her, sensing how in tune with the story she was. How I'd love to see that. Maybe you can convince your husband. There is an awkward pause between them. Would you like to go for a walk? This Shoshone Medicine Woman taught me how to make bug repellent tea out of tree root.

I have some in the truck. Don't go away. She shakes her head. He runs out the screen door, not letting it slam. Francesca looks like a teenager with first date excitement. She sniffs her arm. I'm all right. It's working. They walk. It is a beautiful night. It's just as beautiful as any other place I've seen. God, it knocks me out. Of what I call God and fools can Nature. I can look it up. I like knowing who I'm stealing from. If you can't create art I think the least you can do is recognize it around you, don't you think?

There is She watches him with great appreciation. He smiles at her. Instead of looking away, their eyes remained locked for a moment. There is clearly an attraction. They simultaneously look away and continue walking. Francesca's heart is beating a mile a minute yet she can't deny she is enjoying herself. Walking side by side in silence, Francesca turns back occasionally to look at her house as they get further away from it.

Suddenly, the more distant the house becomes, the more frightened she starts to feel. Something inside her knows she's going too far with this man -- too far from home. Although a part of her wants it, she is surprised to find a larger part of her finds too unknown.

Francesca looks confused for a moment, not knowing what she wants. She can't move. She searches for a way out. Or maybe, some brandy? Somehow Robert can sense her uneasiness. He obliges. She acts tense. Robert sits at the table opening the brandy bottle Francesca almost opened the night before, aware of her mood. Francesca gets the coffee going then sets the table with cups and saucers.

I'll do them later. Francesca freezes. He has read her mind again.

Once again, he relieves her of fear and anxiety. He hands her a glass of brandy That's what happened.

Jesus, maybe he forced himself. That's why she couldn't tell us. He's such a nice guy. He's trying to sleep with somebody's wife. Not yet anyway. And besides, something like that doesn't make you a bad person. He reminds me of Steve in a way.

Steve's weak, immoral and a liar but he's still a real nice guy. He just shouldn't be married. You getting hungry? I'm hungry. Michael nods, then speaks with sincere compassion. No one's forcing me to stay. Live alone? Go back to school? Find someone else? Start a magazine for confused woman? What if I can't do any of those things? Michael can't answer her. Carolyn looks through the cabinets.

We'll take the books with us. Carolyn nods. Michael looks for the next notebook, checking the dates. I thought if anybody walked through the door now there'd be no explaining it. But I didn't care. And I loved that I didn't care. I almost wanted it to happen. Then there'd be no turning back. I wanted to be like him. I lived this life of his.

We talked about his wife and I was jealous -- not of her -- but of his leaving. His fearlessness. He knew what he wanted. How did he do that. Robert sits in the easy chair. I wasn't around much So why did I get married? Well, I thought it was a good idea at the time.

Have a home base. You can get lost moving around so much.

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For some reason, I'm more at home everywhere than at one place. So I decided I'll think of myself as some kind of world citizen. I belong everywhere and nowhere. I'm kin to everyone, and no one in particular. See, once you get into the habit of not needing anyone, it's kind of hard to break. I've got friends all over the world. Good friends I can see when I want, if I want. Francesca averts her eyes, before continuing her investigation.

I love people. I want to meet them all! I just think there are too many out there saying "This is mine. World's breaking apart because of man's weakness for some testosterone conquests over territory and power and people.

He wants control over what deep down he knows he has no control over whatsoever and it scares him silly. I don't know what's coming. And I don't mind. The divorce, I mean. What about other people? But I love them just the same.

I know it's not the same. What you're saying is, it's not as good. Or it's not as normal or proper. I guess you think I'm just some poor displaced soul doomed to roam the earth without a self-cleaning oven and home movie. Just because I've never seen a gazelle stampede doesn't mean I'm asleep in the world.

Francesca is completely stunned and thrown off guard. Of course not. Awkward silence. Suddenly there is tension between them. I apologize. You seem to be reading all this meaning into it. Meanings I must be too simple to, uh Robert remains seated. Francesca remains at the sink. Francesca feels badly. Forgive me. I made a mistake.

It was an inappropriate thing to ask. I feel like something's been spoiled now. Robert smiles and crosses to her.

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He takes her hand into both his hands. Just the way it is. Thank you. The possibility of a kiss hangs in the air between them until Robert turns to get his film out of the fridge.

As he exits through the screen door, he stops. You're anything but a simple woman. He smiles and exits, catching the screen door before it slams. She picks up. Everyone settled in okay? We're all in one room. Michael's on the couch and Carolyn's She hears Robert's truck door open and close. She hears the motor being turned on. She half-listens to Richard. She hears the truck driving away as Richard continues:Robert gives her a friendly pat on the arm.

Initially, neither Robert nor Francesca expects their random encounter to lead to seduction, yet their mutual desire is undeniable.

Adlai Stevenson dying last month. Michael hands back the papers. Peterson, are you sure mama wrote all this? Would you grab me one? F mi7 4 B 7sus. OK then, well see you Thursday.

SUNDAY from Layton
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