Discover they did. Fairy was paraded before the entire camp, assembled for the purpose of her execution. The commandant of the camp detested this labor. At the time he did not know more grisly work was in store for him. The war was young. Fairy's hands were bound behind her back. The commandant thought her public execution would crush the spirit of the other inmates. She refused a blindfold. As the rifles were raised to greet her, Fairy let out a yell. If she had ever once imagined this scene in her entire life, she might have pictured herself at her final moment heroically shouting, "Viva la Revolution." But the cry that sprang from her was unrehearsed, a surprise even to her. Before they mutilated her body with bullets, Fairy Thatcher blasted in a voice that reverberated against backbones, "America! Amer—"
When the camp was liberated at last, the few survivors from those early years recalled the dainty American woman. She seemed the least likely candidate to inspire admiration and a toughening of the soul. Perhaps that is why these wretched Germans, flayed at the hands of their own people, remembered her.
Courage comes from many different people and in many different situations. For most of her life Fairy was a disconnected, searching person. She found something she believed in, and right or wrong, the cause gave her dignity. And her Southern upbringing made her understand honor. Fairy Thatcher died with honor.
Fannie Jump, the last of the three, felt an anguish that froze her lungs when she read the report of Fairy's death. She upbraided herself for the times she had bullied Fairy. She cursed her dismissing of Fairy's politics, no matter how foreign they seemed to her. She staggered under the blows of these last three years. She had lost Celeste, dear Celeste, who could walk into a room and command it with one sweeping gaze; Celeste who held the long view, who spoke of centuries, not years. And Fairy. What terrible loneliness to lose the people you love most in this world! What a ruthless curse to outlive one's friends! Fannie wanted to die, to join them if there was a life hereafter or perhaps to return, reincarnated, as she and Celeste used to laughingly suggest. But to remove herself from life, no matter how painful, was not the course of honor.
Fannie could not belittle Fairy's magnificence or Celeste's joy for life by taking her own. Did not people live through the Middle Ages, diseased, enslaved and ignorant? They suffered but they lived. They bequeathed something to succeeding generations. At seventy years of age, Fannie began to understand the compact between the living and the dead. It was her duty to live. No matter how shattered her heart, no matter how besmirched the world, no matter how inhuman the lessons of World War II, Fannie must live. As long as she could draw breath she must. Fannie knew this burgeoning faith was not intellectual. No complex ideology fortified her. When worlds collapse, the flourishes of the mind evaporate. What's left is the raw meat of one's own flesh. Fannie decided to live what was left of her life to the fullest, to do what good she could for her neighbor. She would honor her friends by her actions. Life is the principle of the universe.
All through Runnymede, both South and North, good people faced the heavy emptiness of the postwar world. Some filled themselves with music. Others with booze. Some hid from the future but many, as most people everywhere, cautiously walked forward to meet it. And in this strangest of times these people spawned a generation that would rock America to its very foundations. As they rode their red tricycles and collected baseball cards, they looked the way children always do. But these children had Hiroshima for a birthmark and Auschwitz for a christening gift. Fannie was not alone, but she would have to wait for the toddlers to catch up to her.
May 24, 1980
Juts whizzed around the house singing "I'm Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover." She laid her trap with care. Since Orrie had nosed by yesterday, Julia knew Louise would come by today. It wasn't enough to sit and talk to her. Juts wanted to put some skin on the baloney. Last night she had told Louise that she and Nickel were riding up to the big potter's barn in Hanover. Said she'd be gone most of the afternoon. Louise would come snooping for sure.
"Is your ass in gear?" she called out to Nickel.
"Yes."
As they got in the car, Julia gave Nickel strict instructions in her conspiratorial voice. "You drive me by my sister's and Orrie Tadia's. Then swing around the back way and let me off."
"What for? I thought we were going to Hanover."
"You're going to Hanover. I got plans." Juts struck a Douglas MacArthur pose. All she needed was the pipe.
"Like hell I will. Mother, you've been sneaking around like the cat that ate the canary. What's up?"
"None of your business."
"In that case, we'll sit here in the car, because I'm not starting it." Nickel folded her arms over her chest.
"I'm your old mother and I'm gonna be your old mother right up to the end. You start this car or I'll give you such a smack!"
"Nope."
Julia punched her in the arm. Nickel pinched her mother right back.
"Ouch!" Juts spat.
"I'm my mother's daughter. You tell me or you'll never see your false teeth again as long as you live."
"Some daughter you are. You are disgusting mean." Julia feigned upset. She was beginning to enjoy this tussle. Nickel gave as good as she got.
"You can always trade me in on a new model. I hear Korean orphans are big these days."
"So that's the thanks I get." Julia's eyes narrowed. "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."
"Are you going to spill the beans or do we sit here in this tin can and roast?"
"All right, smartass. I got the goods on my sister. If you do as you're told I can get the price of the farm down, so help me."
"Mom what'd you get?"
"I'm not telling. You'll put it in a book."
"You can tell me."
"Not until I force Louise into an agreement."
"Mother, I swear. Scout's honor. I won't put this in a book."
"You got bounced out of Girl Scouts, remember?"
"I won't tell." Nickel crossed her heart.
"Loose lips sink ships," Julia warned. She took a deep breath, lowered her voice even more and said very fast, "Found pornography under Wheezie's mattress."
If Nickel hadn't been sitting in the car she would've fallen on the ground. "No!"
"Yes. That's the God's honest truth."
"Ol' Louise climbed down off the cross, did she?"
"Slithered." Juts licked her lips.
"O.K. Mom. You're on." Nickel started the car.
Driving past Louise's and then Orrie's, they attempted to appear casual. As soon as they passed Orrie's royal-blue door, Nickel cornered and sped to the rear road behind the house.
"Good luck, Mom."
"Come back around four." Juts waved good-bye to her. She raced for her back door, grabbed the pornography, which she had carefully hidden in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator, and then stuffed herself in her clothes closet. She fully intended to jump out at an unsuspecting Louise. She didn't have to wait long.
Louise walked into Julia's house bold as brass. Since she was her sister and everyone was accustomed to her trailing in and out, she didn't worry about neighbors. The neighbors were used to the two of them anyway, after all these years. Louise checked the kitchen. She didn't expect to find the magazines in the kitchen, but she felt it was her responsibility to be thorough about this. Those damn rags had to be in this house somewhere. TV shows sometimes had murderers put clues in obvious places because people overlook the obvious. She flipped through all the magazines in the living room. The bedroom was the place. After all, that's where she had hidden them. Still as a mouse, Julia heard the clop-clop of Louise's wedgies come down the hall. She heard a groan as Louise got down on her hands and knees to look under the bed. A sweeping of the hands could be heard as her sister checked beneath the mattress. Bureau drawers were pulled open and closed. A low mumble, "Shit," wafted under the closet door. The wedgies approached the closet. The door opened.
"Boo."
"Aaaah!" Louise s
creamed at the top of her lungs and staggered back. She considered a heart attack, then clearly saw her sister. She'd live to thrash her.
"Looking for something?" Julia held out the magazines.
Louise lunged for them and Julia took off down the hallway. "You can't catch me. You can't catch me."
"I’ll pull out every hair of your head, so help me, God!" Louise tore after her.
Julia, four years younger and faster, kept ahead of Louise, flashing the magazines before her eyes. "Now you see it. Now you don't."
"When I get ahold of you you're going to look like the tail end of bad luck," Louise screeched, her face like rumpled paper.
"Tail. That's what these magazines are all about." Juts danced an irritating two steps ahead of panting Louise.
"The stork didn't bring you. It was a vulture."
"Yeah, a horny toad brought you."
"Gimme that! Gimme that!" The veins in Louise's neck stood out like purple earthworms.
"You're a dried booger," Julia sang out, in that lilt children use when tormenting a foe.
"Oh, the pain." Louise clutched her heart.
"It's easier to bear pain than the itch," Juts brayed.
"This is killing me." Louise lurched dangerously forward, stopping her fall by grabbing onto a kitchen chair.
"Only the good die young. You'll live forever."
"I'm going first, Julia. This is it." Louise's knees hit the floor. She didn't move.
"All right, Louise."
She still didn't move. Julia's face got reddish.
"Louise!"
Nothing.
Now Julia was scared. She tiptoed over to Louise. Not a twitch. Bending down on her hands and knees, she put her head on her sister's heart.
Whap. Yank. That fast Louise liberated a huge chunk of Julia's hair. "Fool around with me, will you?"
"Owww." Tears filled Julia's eyes.
Louise latched onto the magazines. Julia wouldn't release them. Back and forth they seesawed on the floor. First one would dominate, pulling her sister off the floor, and then the other would brace her foot against the table and pull the other up in the air.
"Gimme that!" Louise grunted.
"Never!"
"First Amendment says I can have those magazines." Louise strained.
"First Amendment says I can read 'em." Juts gave her a wicked jerk, but Louise didn't lose her grip.
"Does not."
"Does too."
"Does not!" Louise bellowed. "Private property."
"Yeah, well, the church says you gotta give me these." Julia was switching gears.
"You're full of shit." Louise could barely get the words out, she was pulling so hard.
"Gotta share, remember? It's Christian. That's what you said when you took my hair ribbon, you son-of-a-bitch." Julia gritted her teeth.
"I never took your hair ribbon."
"You lie, Louise." Julia jerked again.
"I can't remember that far back." The exertion made Louise sweat. "After all, that was 1909."
"I thought you didn't remember!" Julia crowed, and summoned all her might for another pull. Louise let go and Julia Ellen skidded across the room. Now it was Louise's turn to laugh. Juts started to laugh, too. Louise got up and was surprised to find all her parts got up with her. She walked stiffly over to Julia and offered her a hand up. Julia quickly put the magazines behind her back.
"Quit hanging over me, blowfly," Juts snarled.
"Come on, I'll help you up."
"I don't trust you. Go over to the fridge. Then I’ll get up." Louise obeyed and Julia scrambled to her feet. The women glared at one another. "Now, sister mine, let's sit down and discuss the sensitive nature of these magazines." Julia's eyes jumped in her head.
"Give me those magazines."
"Not so fast." Julia kept them in her lap so Louise couldn't grab them and run out.
"Julia!"
"Quit bellyaching. I'll give you these magazines if..."
'"If what?"
"If you sell the farm to Nickel for forty thousand dollars."
"Chiseler!" Louise pouted.
"Pornographer!"
"I am not. I don't know how those magazines got under my bed." Louise wiped her brow.
"The good fairy brought them." Juts snickered.
"The good fairy lives with you."
"How would you like to eat a bug," Julia threatened.
"She is." Louise glowered. "Nickel is the black sheep of the family."
"Yes, but she has golden hooves." Julia smiled.
This caught Louise, who expected a vehement denial. "Well. . ."
"You know, Louise, for someone who hates sex you're making an awfully good job of it." Julia tantalizingly waved one of the magazines in the air, opened to the shocking centerfold.
"I'm not fit to drive a hen from the door." Louise faked a swoon.
"Recovering from your recent bout with good health?" Julia tormented.
That quick, Louise snapped back, "Don't rub it in, Julia. What's the harm in a few magazines at my age?"
"What's the harm in Nickel's love life at her age?"
"You know perfectly well."
"Better than a shotgun wedding, to my way of thinking."
"There you go throwing Mary in my face again. Why the Japanese ever let Bill Bitters get away is beyond me." She sighed like a furnace. "There's no justice in this world."
"So bring the price down to forty thousand dollars. When you sign the papers you get the magazines back."
"Julia!"
"Not before."
Glumly Louise shifted her weight in her seat.
"Louise." Julia dragged her name out as long as it would last.
"I'm thinking."
"I never know what you're thinking—probably because you don't know yourself."
"Oh, shut up."
Julia congratulated herself. "This is my high-water mark."
"Yeah, you left a ring around the toilet."
Juts rolled up a magazine and leaned across the table to knock her. Louise ducked and stuck out her tongue.
"Don't make me laugh, Louise. I'm supposed to be mad at you."
"We're what Nickel would call loony tunes."
"What's her other one?" Julia concentrated for a moment. "Ozone cookies, that's it. We're ozone cookies."
Louise sighed, then bargained again. "What about forty-five thousand?"
"Louise!" Julia went to smack her once more.
"Give me one day to think it over," Louise requested.
"All right. One day."
February 14, 1950
Juts smashed her face against the reality of raising children. Nicole did not turn out to be Shirley Temple, as Julia had ardently hoped. No wonder Louise used to look like death eating a cracker on bad days. One child was driving Julia to distraction. God knows how Louise managed with two. Now that they were full grown, Louise still endured their problems. Mary squatted out on the north side of town in a shack, which was a polite term for it. Extra Billy farmed weeds and neurosis. The man couldn't adjust. His oldest boy, OdeRuss, worked alongside his father. David, born in 1946, started doing chores, too. Maizie did not exactly set the world on fire, but she did put a match to one wing of the Holy Humilities of Mary. They eighty-sixed her. Since that outburst Maizie had languished back home with Mother. She read Roy Rogers and Dale Evans comic books. She also colored all their coloring books with her Big Chief crayons. Maizie was just shy of twenty-two.
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