Flora

to exchange myself for Barney.”

“What’s ‘starkers’?” I asked.

“Without any clothes,” said Finn.

“What happened then?” Flora asked.

“Oh, then, I found myself in another wing of the hospital, talking to mental doctors rather than lung doctors, and then one day last spring I found myself signing papers for a medical discharge. The thing about the medical discharge is that you still receive certain benefits—for instance the Army continues to pay for my visits to a psychiatrist, but other benefits, like education, are forfeited.”

“Like the GI Bill,” moaned Flora. “But Mr. Crump did say your father had pulled some strings and they might upgrade the discharge so you could get it after all.”

“That’s the plan,” said Finn, looking suddenly impatient with the whole subject. He chose one of my crippled cheese straws, bit into it, and pronounced it perfect, which I thought was going too far.

THE PHONE RANG while the three of us were having dinner.

“It could be my father,” I said, jumping up to take the call in the kitchen.

It was my father, unusually talkative. He went on and on about the huge complex they were building, going into minute details about the ductwork and the roofing and how he’d gone to the local jail to spring one of his crew who’d drunk too much and reportedly had a “dangerous concealed weapon” on him. “I had to explain to the sheriff that Willie was a roofer and the ‘dangerous weapon’ was a roofer’s tool for cutting felt.” He sounded so pleased with himself and was talking to me as an equal, only why had he picked just now to call? I stood on one foot, then the other. I leaned against the kitchen counter and studied my distorted reflection on the back of a dessert spoon. I could hear a hushed, intimate exchange going on in the dining room. Finn was probably telling Flora the parts about going mad that he had judged best to leave out when “the child” was with them. How perverse life was. Nothing came at the right time.

“You and Flora getting on all right?” At last my father was winding down, or so I thought.

“Oh, yes. You want to talk to her?”

“Not specially. Unless you think I ought to.”

Though it would be good to get Finn to myself in the dining room, what if Flora forgot and revealed that we were having company? My father would start off being prejudiced against Finn for violating the quarantine, which could put an end to my plans for the Starling Peake room.

“Not specially,” I said back.

“Where is she now?” my father asked.

“Probably working on her lesson plans or writing a letter.” I was speaking low.

“Flora’s letters!” My father snorted. “Mother spared us those, didn’t she? She couldn’t dispose of them fast enough. Who is left for Flora to write to?”

“That colored woman who lives with them. She writes to her every week, she…”

But my father was now attacking the next thing. “Lesson plans! How happy I’d be never to see the inside of a schoolhouse again.”

I was shocked. “But what would you do?”

“Oh, stay here at Oak Ridge. They’re turning it into a little town. The pay is good and there’s plenty of building left to do.”

“But what would I do?”

“You’d go to school, just as you do now. They’ve built a school here. We could have a little house. I wouldn’t have to live in a men’s dormitory if you were here. What do you think?”

I could hardly reply. “Are you joking, or what?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I am. I’m feeling light-headed tonight.”

“Where are you?”

“I drove out a little ways—can’t drive far with this rationing. There’s a nice lake where they’ll make you a sandwich with a pickle and you can rent a boat. If you were here, we might take a boat out.”

“But what about our house?”

“I take it you mean Old One Thousand, the old death trap. We could sell the damn thing. Start a new life with no ghoulish emcun—cum—cumbrances.”

Only when he messed up encumbrances did I realize they were providing him with more than a sandwich and a pickle at the nice lake.

Which would I have hated more? For him to have been sober and serious about our starting a new life and moving us off to a place in the middle of nowhere, or for him to have fallen off the wagon and be “flying high,” as Nonie used to call it, when he had imbibed just the right amount to tease her with fantasies of how he was going to escape, one way or another? Fortunately, “just the right amount” always sloshed over into the darker hour where he crashed to earth and we three remained safely together on top of our mountain.

Of the two options, I preferred the sloshed safety of Old One Thousand.

“MY, YOU TWO did some talking,” said Flora. “I guess your father didn’t want to talk to me.” She and Finn had assumed that innocent look of having said nothing of any importance while I was away.

“He asked about you, but we had a lot to talk about.”

“How is he?”

“He was at some lake, having a sandwich. He said if I was there we could take a boat out. I told him we were doing fine here.”

“That was nice of you, honey.” Then more to Finn than me she said, “In a little over a month I’ll be teaching fifth grade in Alabama. It seems hard to believe.”

“I’ll be starting sixth grade.” I said. “And my father will be back as principal of the high school.” I looked at Finn. “Where do you think you’ll be?”

“I’d rather not be thinking till I know, darling. Maybe I’ll still be right here. Finn, your deliverer.” With a resolute laugh he improved on it: “Finn, your Recoverer-deliverer.”

December 12, 1938

Dear Flora,

If I were you, I would put out of my mind what you overheard in your house. One person was crying hard, you say, and the other person was very angry, and words aren’t necessarily heard clearly when someone is crying hard and the other person is spluttering with anger. Also, when we’re angry we snatch at straws and make up things to hurt the other person. I think that is what happened. He was afraid he was going to lose his share of the house and wanted to accuse her of something that would scare her. So he snatched at something that could put her in real danger. What was especially odious was that the other person being accused had just died and couldn’t defend himself. And, as you say, it was cruel for the accuser to insinuate that the long and trusting friendship between the two who raised you was something else, especially when that something else is against the laws of the land.

But I have written more than is wise and must ask you to destroy this letter.

As you say, Flora, people we trusted can be downright treacherous. I could furnish you with a few examples but I have buried them in my heart and I advise you to do the same. To end on a positive note before I take Helen off to the Recreation Park, let me assure you that we are never “completely helpless.” A person always has control over how she meets her adversities, and the good news is that the facing of them, one after another, year after year, builds an inner strength that nobody can take away from you.

Yours truly,

Honora Anstruther

XXI.