Flora

“Goodness, no, honey. We just went around and around the house on that old circular driveway.”

“But that thing’s so overgrown you can barely walk on it!”

“Well, we flattened it down some with our big car,” said Flora with more satisfaction than I cared for. “And Finn is going to ask Miss Adelaide if he can borrow her scythe and work on it some more.”

“For more… driving lessons?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Finn says I will be driving before I go back to Alabama. Who would have ever thought! If only I had kept my mouth shut during that interview.”

“Spoken word is slave,” I said. “Unspoken is master.”

“That’s just what she would have said! But it would still have been a lie, wouldn’t it? Not speaking up can be a lie, too.”

“I guess.”

I couldn’t wait to go to bed. Shut the door to my room, climb between Nonie’s sheets, and let this day drain out of me. When I woke up it would be the next day, and that day would be one day closer to my birthday. I had decided my father was going to come. He had to come, because I needed him to. If I could just get to my birthday and have some support, I could make it through the remaining weeks until he was home for good and we put Flora on the train to Alabama.

“You want to listen to anything on the radio later?”

“No, I’m too tired.”

“Oh dear, I hope you’re not coming down with something. Your father would never forgive me. But where could you have gotten anything?”

If I hadn’t been so depleted, I could have tormented her a little. From the strangers you keep inviting into the house for hot corn bread and milk. And pound cake and “brewed tea.”

“No, I’m just really tired. I moved some furniture around upstairs.”

“Oh, right, for your study. You go on, then, honey. I’ll clean up. And then would you like me to bring you anything in bed? Some milk? One of your Clark bars?”

“No, I’ll already have brushed my teeth. I just want to sleep.”

After I got into my pajamas, I took down the hatbox from the closet shelf and removed Nonie’s hatpin from the new hat. I replaced the hatbox. I fingered around in her purse until I found the hatpin’s sheath and stuck the pin back in its sheath. I held it in my closed right hand and put my left hand on top. “You have got to help me get through these next days,” I told the hatpin. “And make my father come for my birthday.” Then I placed it under my pillow, arranged myself between the crisp sheets marked MASTER, squinched my eyes shut, and willed myself into oblivion. But I went on being awake. I heard Flora’s clatter as she finished putting away the dishes, then her footsteps on the stairs and going down the hall, then the Willow Fanning door opening and closing, then the toilet flushing in the Willow Fanning half bath. I reminded myself that a month from now I would be lying here listening to more agreeable sounds coming from other people in the house as they finished up their day and settled down for their night.

“I KNOW YOU didn’t like Mr. Quarles, Helen, but I did enjoy hearing him talk about her when she was a young girl.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, that she was a grand cook, even with their old wood-burning stove, and she could wring a chicken’s neck without making a face, and milk a cow and ride a horse bareback. He also said she was high-tempered.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“Well, I think he meant it as praise. After all, he didn’t say hot-tempered, or bad-tempered.” Flora giggled. “Though he did say she could hold grudges like an elephant.”

“From what I heard, there was plenty to hold grudges about.”

“You said something about that, uh, yesterday.” Flora was curious, but I could see she was also nervous about starting things up again.

“He had so many bad traits it was hard to single one out. He was a bully and sneaky and thought nothing of taking what wasn’t his. And he had his eye on the farm and was willing to tell lies about her to get it.”

“She told you all that?”

I nodded.

“I wonder what he took.”

“What wasn’t his.”

“Oh, well, it was a long time ago, and it worked out all right for them both, didn’t it?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, your grandmother married the wonderful doctor and had your father, and you, and Mr. Quarles thought the world of his wife.”

“He says that about everybody,” I reminded her.

“No, from what he said they were real happy. They didn’t have children, but she was a big help to him in his business. He wasn’t much of a farmer, he told me, but he knew how to buy and sell land. He kept a few acres for corn and a couple of cows and his wife kept these pet chickens—for eggs, not for eating—but what he really likes is discovering land that loggers have ruined. He clears it and then sells it to people who want to build houses on it. That’s why he happened to be up here. He—”

“I know, he told me. He was looking at some acreage about to go on sale at the top of our hill.”

“So you two did get to talk some. He told us when the men come home from the war they’ll want starter houses to raise their families in. Finn thinks he’s going to make a bundle without so much as lifting an eyebrow.”

“You can’t make a bundle unless you have something to start with,” I explained world-wearily. “And what he had to start with was Nonie’s property.”

FLORA WAS GETTING ready to leave in her mind. She had begun saying nostalgic things like “I’ll never forget the time we…” and “I’ll always remember when we…” She was already bundling her memories of this summer into little packages, like Juliet’s herbs, to take back to Alabama. I could hear her telling other teachers at her school about our fifth-grade game: “My little cousin was just so smart. She made up this whole class full of children for me to practice on and played all the parts herself.” We had discontinued playing Fifth Grade when things around the house started breaking down, and then somehow the time was past for that game. I had my “study” (a.k.a. the Devlin Patrick Finn room) to work on, and Flora, with her driving lessons to look forward to in the late afternoon, had to fit in her meal preparations earlier in the day. Finn had cleared the old circular driveway with Miss Adelaide’s scythe and I had helped him neaten it some with a rake. My father was going to be so pleased with all our improvements. Finn still had not been given a decision about his discharge status.

“They’re taking their time,” he told us. “They’re waiting to see whether I’m truly recovered or whether I’ll go balmy again.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” cried Flora. “Not even as a joke.” We were sitting around the dining table. Finn often stayed for dinner with us now, after the driving lesson. Flora had promised him not to go to any special trouble.

The latest letter from Alabama had given Flora something else to think about. “Uncle Sam has offered to buy Juliet’s share of the house so he and Aunt Garnet can live there when they get remarried.”

“But where will Juliet live?”

“She could come to Dothan and live with me.”

“Did she ask if she could?”

“Oh, Juliet would never do that. But I’ve been thinking how nice it would be.”

“But—”

“But, what?”

“Would she be like your maid?”

“I’ve told you, honey. Juliet is not a maid. We would keep house together. She would have her own money.” Flora laughed. “With the money from her share of the house, she would have a lot more than me.”

“But what about when you get married?”