“That Fay!” Fanny said. “She just can’t play any game. We were right there behind the pile of vine stumps and just because we kept moving around it, she didn’t have sense enough to know we were there. I’ll bet she hasn’t found anybody yet. If it had been me, I would have found everybody in two seconds, and I would have beat everybody back to the olive tree, too.”
“I know,” Eva said, for she was sure Fanny would have done exactly what she had said.
It was almost dark now. They came slowly to the olive tree, then went to Mrs. Blotch.
“Where’s Fay?” Fanny said.
“Out somewhere looking for you, I guess,” Mrs. Blotch said.
“Where’s Flora?”
“Out hiding, I guess.”
“Where’s Red?” Eva said.
“Out hiding, too, I guess.”
“Fay can’t find anybody,” Fanny said. “We found a ripe watermelon and ate the heart.”
“Yes,” Eva said.
When it was dark they saw Red and Flora walking slowly to the olive tree. After a moment they saw Fay, too. When they met at the olive tree, they looked at one another and didn’t speak. This was so because the game had petered out, and it was night.
Chapter 33
After church and Sunday dinner Warren Walz told his wife the truth about Friday night.
“I knew,” May Walz said.
“How did you know?”
“I just did.”
“When did you find out?”
“When you came to get me at Dade’s house, although I refused to believe it then.”
“I’m sorry, May, but I had to tell you.”
“I knew you would” the woman said. “I thought it might take longer.”
“You have a right to be angry.”
“Forget it,” the woman said. “Let me forget it. I wouldn’t be able to begin to forget it until you had told me, but now that you have, please never again humiliate me by being ashamed of yourself. Anything would be better than that. I will not have my daughters ashamed of their father, and they already are, especially Fanny. You’ve known that yourself or you wouldn’t have tried to stand on your head beside her last night. That was the best moment of yours I’ve ever witnessed. If having made a fool of yourself did that to you, I’m glad you made a fool of yourself.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the man said. “I thought my telling you would end our marriage.”
“You sound as if you’d prefer our marriage to end.”
“That’s not so,” the man said. “I think you know how much I’ve always loved you, in spite of the oppression you—or something in marriage itself—became to me. Five years ago at the Huntingtons’ when I got drunk, for instance, and made a pass at their cousin from St. Louis, it wasn’t like this. I’d been scared by you before, but what happened then really scared me. A man doesn’t like to feel that it’s compulsory to love his wife, May. It got to be awfully compulsory for me.”
“I know,” the woman said.
“I don’t understand,” the man said. “We’ve had so many fights that were supposed to be about other things, but were actually always about this oppression, and this compulsoriness. What’s happened? Surely something’s happened. What is it?”
“You wanted to run away,” May said. “I knew why. They had been through something or other, something surely serious, too, as you must know. They had involved us, but the next day the first thing they did was telephone and invite us to dinner. Why? Because there is no running away, Warren. After what they’d been through it seemed to me that if they could ask us over, without any reference to what they and we had already been through, we could certainly go to them in the same spirit. I believed going was important.”
“I’m sorry I was stupid about that,” the man said.
“Don’t be sorry about anything,” the woman said. “I made up my mind on the drive to Fresno, and back, to fight this out with you. I made up my mind to force you into helping me. I was sure you would still want to run away, and I almost believed it might be easier that way, after all. For me, I mean. Our marriage would end. I mean, decently, in divorce. It’s been ended for a long time in any case, as you and I know, as we’ve known since soon after Flora’s birth. You wanted a son. I wanted a son. But how long is it since we’ve talked about it? Six years, or more. We can have a son, we know it, but we gave up being married, Warren. We gave it up and just stayed in the same house together. Of course something’s happened. We’ve met another family, with difficulties greater than our own. That’s what’s happened. It would have been easier not to go, certainly easier after you had telephoned and told them we were going to Yosemite. I have never been so hurt as when you thought I wanted to poke into their affairs. You kept saying that. I didn’t poke into their affairs. I couldn’t hold it against her that she had slammed the door in my face, even. She and I talked. We talked a long time. That’s what’s happened, Warren. We talked, as if not about ourselves, about women, being married, having children, being mothers, being human beings—these are difficult things. Being these things calls for trying all the time. Of course you were oppressed, but so was I. I don’t want you to be, and I don’t want to be. I’ll take my chances, because they’re worth taking. I’m thirty-three years old, Warren, and I want a son. I still want a son.”
“I want one, too,” the man said.
“I’m not a foolish woman,” the woman said, “as I’ve seemed to be for so long, and you’re not a tormented man, as you’ve seemed to be. I’m any kind of woman any kind of man you may become may wish to discover in me.”
“I was sure we were finished,” the man said.
They called Mrs. Blotch and told her they might not be back until very late, would she spend the night? She said she would. Walz fetched Mrs. Blotch and they told the kids they were going to Fresno and wouldn’t be home until very late. They drove off. The kids looked at one another and Fanny said, “They’re trying to be in love again.”
Chapter 34
Monday afternoon a man from the garage brought Dade’s car to the house. The kids were asleep at the time, but when Evan got the man to put the top down Red heard the grinding noise, woke up, and came running out of the house. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the man said. He lifted the hood to show Evan all the good things that had been done to the motor, Red climbing up onto the bumper to look, too. It was a ten-year-old Lincoln with almost a hundred thousand miles on it, but the man said it was now good for at least fifty thousand more.
“It ought to be,” he said. “Want to know what it’s costing Dade? Almost five hundred dollars, but we’ve practically made a new car out of it. For my money it’s better-looking than the new models anyway. Want to get behind the wheel and drop me off at the garage? I’ll tell you a few things about the car as we go.”
Now Eva came running out of the house.
“Come on, Swan,” Evan said. “We’ll go for a ride to town in Dade’s car. We’ll come back, and then go for a real drive. You, too, Eva.”
“Another picnic?” Eva said. “To the place by the river?”
“Or another place,” Evan said.
Everybody got in and sat down on the smooth black leather seats. The car was dark blue, and newly waxed and polished.
“It’s Dade’s car,” Eva said. “It’s not ours, Mama. It’s Dade’s.”
The car was a delight to drive. The motor was very nearly silent but tremendously powerful.
When they had left the man off at the garage, Evan asked everybody to get up front.
“Is it too hot, Swan?” he said. “Shall I put the top up?”
“No, Papa,” Eva said. “I can see everywhere now.”
“Leave it down,” Swan said. “It is hot, but it would be anyway.”
“Where will we go?” Eva said. “Do I have to put on clothes? Can’t I go like this? It feels so good to be in only shorts.”
“You can go the way you are,” Evan said. “We’ll take along som
e clothes to put on later. The sun’ll do you good. You, too, Red, if you want to.”
“Shall we pick up the Walz girls and take them with us?” Swan said.
“Why not all of them?” Evan said. “There’s plenty of room in the car. Maybe we could go swimming.”
“Where?” Red said. “Piedra? It’s hard to walk on the rocks there.”
“Maybe they know a better place,” Evan said. “Suppose we stop there on our way home, then go back and pick them up after we fix a picnic basket?”
“Do you like them?” Swan said.
“Very much,” Evan said.
“I do, too,” Red said.
“So do I,” Eva said, “especially Fanny. I didn’t like her at first, I liked Flora at first, but now I like Fanny best, then Flora, then Fay.”
“She’s the nicest woman I’ve ever met,” Swan said. “The first impression you get of people can be awful wrong, can’t it? In one visit we’ve become the best of friends.”
“Cody Bone’s my best friend,” Red said.
“No,” Eva said. “Flora’s your best friend.”
“I forgot all about Bart,” Evan said. “The man in San Francisco’s going to phone sometime this afternoon. I’ve got to wait for his call. I told Bart I’d phone the minute I heard from him.”
“Maybe he’ll phone while we’re fixing the picnic basket,” Swan said.
“Well, if he doesn’t,” Red said, “you phone him, Papa.”
“Well, I could,” Evan said, “but I’d rather not. I could, though.”
They came to the Walz home and found everybody in the back yard.
“How about going swimming with us?” Evan said. “We’re going to have a picnic, too.”
“How about it, May?” Walz said.
“Us, too?” Fanny said.
“Yes, Fanny,” Eva said.
“We’ll go in Dade’s car,” Evan said. “There’s plenty of room. We’re going home to fix a basket. We’ll be back in an hour or so. Think of a good place to go. Let it be far.”
“Yes,” Red said, “let’s go far this time. Piedra’s not far.”
“Piedra’s so nice, though,” May said. “Couldn’t we go there again, Red?”
“Oh, well,” Red said. “Sure we could, Mrs. Walz—if you want to.”
“It’s the best place, isn’t it, Warren?” May said.
“Just about,” Walz said. “The river at Skaggs Bridge is pretty good, too, though, and no rocks. It’s shallow enough for the kids unless they go out to the middle of the stream. Do you have suits? We’ve got all kinds of them if you haven’t. We’ll bring along some extra ones. We’ll decide when you get back.”
“We’ll fix a basket, too,” May said to Swan. “What are you having, so we can keep it balanced?”
“Well,” Swan said, “I thought deviled ham, boiled ham, and cheese sandwiches.”
“All right,” May said. “We’ll make some hard-boiled eggs, jelly and cream cheese sandwiches. We’ve got a couple of dozen hot dogs for a roast, and some cold fruit. That’ll do it, won’t it?”
“I forgot the wine, and soda pop for the kids,” Swan said. “We’ll stay until after sundown. All right?”
“Sure,” May said.
They drove home and Swan went to work on the sandwiches. When she was almost finished Evan telephoned the man in San Francisco.
“I was about to call,” the man said. “This is the setup. Tell him to come to my office Friday morning at half-past eleven. I’ll tell him the whole story, then we’ll go to lunch. After lunch I’ll turn him over to our man who will look after him until he sails.”
“When will that be?” Evan said.
“The following Friday,” the man said.
“When will he be back in San Francisco?”
“Anywhere from a hundred and twenty to a hundred and fifty days later—four or five months.”
“You’ll like him,” Evan said. “I’ll call him now. I know he’s sitting there, waiting. He’ll be an able seaman, is that right?”
“That’s right,” the man said, “and don’t worry. We need them. He’ll come back with some money, too. It’s a good ship, and a friend of mine’s first mate. He’ll look after him.”
Evan telephoned Bart and told him the story. The boy was speechless a moment, then began to cheer.
“Let’s go, Clovis!” he shouted. “The high school cheer,” he explained. “Thanks, Mr. Nazarenus. Can we come by tonight after dinner? Or will you come by here?”
“We’re going on a picnic in a few minutes with the Walz family,” Evan said. “We might be late getting back. Why not pick up Cody and join us there? There’ll be plenty to eat. It’ll be either Piedra or Skaggs Bridge. I’ll phone from Warren’s and let you know.”
“Swell,” Bart said. “Cody gets home a little after five. We’ll be wherever it is a half hour later. You can help me tell Cody. He’s going to be glad. I know he is, but if you help me tell him, I don’t think he’s going to worry. Friday! Let’s go, Clovis!”
They got into the car. They were on their way when Evan heard the telephone bell ring. He stopped the car.
“I’d better get it,” he said.
“Who is it?” Red said. Again, for the first time in hours, there was panic in his voice.
“Dade, most likely,” Evan said.
He got out of the car and ran into the house. By the time he answered the phone there was no one on the line. At last the operator came on the line.
“There was a call for Mrs. Nazarenus from Palo Alto,” the operator said, “but the party hung up.”
“Will you get the party back, please?” Evan said.
“I’ll try,” the operator said.
She was a long time, then came back and said, “The number doesn’t answer. I think it was a booth number. Shall I try it again in twenty minutes?”
“No,” he said, “try this number.” He gave her the number, and after a moment she said, “That number doesn’t answer, either, sir.”
“O.K.,” he said. “Thanks.”
He went to Dade’s room, drew open the drawer, saw everything in its place, looked around for the key to the drawer, found it on top of the bureau, locked the drawer, and put the key in his pocket. He hurried out of the house, locking the door behind him.
“Who was it?” Swan said.
“Dade,” he said. He spoke cheerfully, and they drove off, but there was a quietude in the kids, and in Swan, that made him know they didn’t believe him.
“What did he say, Papa?” Red said.
Evan Nazarenus laughed.
“Dade said, ‘Are you teaching Red the language?’ and I said, ‘I am,’ so here we go for today’s lesson. Let me hear you say, ‘It is right.’ ”
Red said the words in the language.
“Again, please,” Evan said. After a moment, “Again.”
“All right, Papa,” Red said. “Let’s do today’s lesson.”
“Listen carefully, then,” Evan Nazarenus said. “You, too, Swan. You, too, Eva. All of you listen carefully.”
“Yes, Papa,” Eva said.
“I love you,” Evan said in the language.
“What’s that mean?” Red said.
“I love you,” Evan said in English. “Now listen carefully. I’ll say it again, very slowly. Listen to the sound of it. You, too, Swan. I love you,” he said in the language. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Have you got it, Swan?”
“Yes, Evan.”
“Say it, Swan.”
“I love you,” Swan said in the language.
“Again,” he said. She said it again. “Again, Swan.” She said it again. “Again, please,” he said.
“What’s the matter, Papa?” Red said.
“What’s the matter?” Evan said. “I’m teaching your mother my language. It’s a good language. I’m going to teach all of you this language. Now you say it, Red.” Red said it. He said it perfectly, as if the language were his, too. “Notice the way he
says it, Swan,” Evan said. “Say it that way.” She said it again, trying to say it the way Evan and Red had said it.
She knew something had happened. She knew he was trying hard, and she wanted to help him.
“Eva?” Evan said.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Can you say it, darling?”
“I can say it, Papa.”
“Listen carefully to the way I say it,” Evan said. “Then say it that way. Say it that way the first time. I love you,” he said in the language. “Now say it, darling.”
“I love you,” the girl said in the language, saying it perfectly.
“Say it again,” he said. She said it again.
“Now, I’m going to say it to each of you,” he said, “and each of you say it back to me. I’m going to say it because it’s true, and I can say it best in my own language. Swan? I love you,” he said in the language.
“I love you, Evan,” Swan said in the language.
“Red?” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, Papa,” Red said in the language.
“Eva? I love you,” he said in the language.
“I love you, Papa,” Eva said. “I love you, Mama. I love you, Red,” she said in the language.
“That’s today’s lesson,” Evan said.
When they reached the Walz house everybody was ready to go. The baskets were put away in the car and everybody got in.
“I’ve got to call Bart,” Evan said. “I’ve asked him to bring Cody to the picnic after work, if it’s all right. I told him I’d tell him where we’re going.”
“I think we can have more fun at Skaggs Bridge,” Walz said. “I’ll let you in. While I’m at it I’ll get us a drink.”
The minute he was through letting Bart know where the picnic was he told the operator to try the Palo Alto number again. Walz was in the kitchen fixing the drinks. Evan heard the phone ring, then the man’s voice. He did not bother about names.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said.
The Laughing Matter Page 13