Flora

“No, it was one of the Recoverers,” I said, and went on to quote Nonie: “Starling Peake let us down, but he was happy the day he painted that picture.” I explained that it was the view from our house before it got blocked out.

“You could have it back, the view,” Finn said. “All ye’d need to do is top some trees.”

“It would cost a lot of money,” I said.

“That would depend on who you got to do it. I might be able to help you.”

“I would have to ask my father,” I said, like an ungrateful little prig.

“Well, of course, naturally you would,” Finn replied sportingly, though he blushed with embarrassment.

I was relieved when Flora stood over us, taking charge like an adult and directing us to our seats. “I will bring your plates from the kitchen,” she announced, rosy with her cooking, “so that everything will stay as hot as possible.”

Greed rose in my throat at the sight of the steaming food on the plate, but this was immediately followed by dismay at the recent image of myself pooching out of my favorite dress. Flora had been stealthily turning me into a fatty with her meals. Unless I was vigilant and changed my habits, my father wouldn’t recognize me when he came home. Finn ate like a hungry man who had been taught not to bolt his food. He praised each item and asked Flora how she managed to have everything including the biscuits come out at the same time, and that, unfortunately, set off an accolade to the person who had taken Flora in hand when she could hardly reach the stove and taught her everything about cooking. It was Juliet Parker this and Juliet that, until I felt I needed to put in that this was their colored maid back in Alabama.

“No, not our maid,” said Flora. “Juliet lived with us. She raised me and Helen’s mother. She was a full member of the household. Why, she’s even—”

“Where do you live, Finn?” I interrupted like a rude child, but it was better than having Flora say what I was sure was coming next: that Juliet Parker was part owner of their house.

“I live in an attic storeroom above Mr. Crump’s store. Its washing facilities leave much to be desired, but it’s convenient to the job. They only charge me for linens and utilities, so I can put away a bit.”

“What about your American parents? Will you ever go back to them?”

“That’s a lot of questions, honey,” Flora mildly protested.

“No, no, I don’t mind,” said Finn. “You two have told me something about your lives and now it’s my turn. I get on very well with Grace and Bill. Sure they would love to have me back. Bill would make me a partner in his auto parts business, but I’d like to try my wings first. I’m twenty-two—”

“We’re the same age!” cried Flora. “When is your birthday? Mine was May.”

“Ah, mine was last November, and there’s already the next one looking over my shoulder, so I’d better get cracking.”

“How will you try your wings?” I asked, keeping to the subject.

“I’d like to study engineering or maybe industrial arts.”

“And you’ve got the GI Bill!” cried Flora. “The government will send you to college.”

“Well, I’m not so sure of that,” said Finn. “We’ll have to see how things fall out.”

“But it’s a sure thing,” insisted Flora. “I know several boys in Birmingham who are going to take advantage of it as soon as they’re discharged.”

“But, you see, I’m already discharged. Because of the lung…” Finn tapped his chest. “And then I developed this other complication.” He tapped the side of his head. “Which made me act a bit daft for a while. They dealt with it out at the hospital, but I have to stay here in town and see a doctor out at the hospital once a week until he says I’m my old self again.”

“Was that your mental problem?” I asked.

“Helen, honey—” began Flora.

“It’s all right,” Finn assured her. “It happens to a lot of soldiers. Meanwhile, this mountain air is good for me, and I get to know people like yourselves. How would I ever have met the two of you if I hadn’t been your deliverer?”

The phone rang. “Excuse me,” I said, getting up. “That’s probably my father. I’ll take it in the kitchen.”

“May I speak with Helen?” a voice asked faintly. It was Brian Beale.

“This is Helen.”

“Oh. You sound different. I thought it was that lady who’s living with you now.”

“She’s not living with us, just staying till my father comes back. Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m home. But I have to go away again tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“I have to go to this place. But I wanted to thank you for your nice letter. Father McFall brought it to the hospital. It really cheered me up.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” I said bitterly, recalling my forced effort with shame. Without thinking, I added, “This has been the worst summer of my life.”

“Same here,” said Brian without the least hint of irony, which made me feel horrible.

“How—how are you?” I was venturing just as Flora whisked into the kitchen to take the pineapple upside-down cake out of the oven. “It’s Brian,” I told her. “He’s out of the hospital.”

“Am I keeping you?” Brian asked.

“No, it’s just we have company for dinner.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get off.”

“No, I was already finished eating. Why are you going away tomorrow?”

“It’s this place where they work on you so you can get better. I’ll be going to school there, too.”

First Annie, now Brian. That left only Rachel, whose mother now hated me. It was while Brian was telling me that his mother was closing up their house and going with him that I realized he was talking in his old way, like before he had the speech lessons. The English accent was completely gone.

“Listen,” I said. “Can I call you back in the morning so we can really talk?”

“No, that’s okay, I just wanted to thank you for the letter. I’ll be going by ambulance first thing.”

“Ambulance?”

“It’s the most practical, for now. My mother will follow in the car. Listen, Helen, you be good. I guess we’ll see each other again sometime.”

When I returned to the dining room, the lamps were switched on and Flora was serving out the cake. The way she broke off whatever she had been telling Finn made me sure she had been filling him in on my recent losses—“First her grandmother dies, then her little friend Brian gets polio, and her little girlfriend has just moved away…”—but she must have been telling about my father’s polio, too, because as I came in Finn was murmuring that it was “no wonder, then, he was being extra strict, considering his own experience.”

“Well, how is Brian?” asked Flora, who had never even met him.

“He’s going away by ambulance tomorrow morning.” A huge slice of pineapple upside-down cake, which Flora knew was my favorite, awaited me on my plate.

“I thought you said he was home from the hospital.”

“He is but tomorrow he’s going off to this other place where they will work on him some more. He won’t even be coming back for school.”

“Probably one of those Sister Kenny places,” said Finn. “It’s an intense regimen but they get results, I’m told.”

“We’re very lucky it didn’t turn into an epidemic,” Flora prattled on. “Mrs. Jones said they’re going to go ahead with the fireworks on the Fourth. Though it’s so sad about that one little girl. Did Brian say anything about his legs, Helen?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. If he’s going there in an ambulance, they’re probably not in the best shape.” I knew I sounded rude, but it was better than crying. Brian had spoken to me the way people do when they have already given up on you. I felt like giving up on myself. Flora always made sure I got a complete ring of pineapple in my serving of cake, and now its yellow eye glistened gelidly up at me: “Eat, little girl, and expand some more.”

When we were having coffee back in the living room, Finn took a small sketchbook and pencil from his jacket pocket and asked if he might draw the room to send to his American mum. “Grace would love this. She has this way she wants her rooms to look but she says it’s not the kind of look you can just go out and purchase.”