by Jean Ferris
"Not to me, it doesn't," Mr. Moreland said. "I know more about earning, spending, saving, investing, and borrowing money than any man alive." He sighed. "At least, I used to."
"You don't seem to have forgotten anything about playing cards," Sandy said. "It sounds like you've won a lot of money playing them."
"True. But I didn't learn to play until I got to Walnut Manor. I never had time before. It's the things I did out there," he gestured in the direction of the windows, "that I have trouble remembering."
Sandy put the last shovelful of ashes into the grocery sack. He had just finished laying the new fire when Sunnie came into the library. "Sandy, why don't you go sit with your family? I know you'd like to spend some time with them, and I'd like to get to know these gentlemen, since it looks as if we're going to be spending a lot of time together. Go on. I'll light the fire."
Sandy left the room, and Sunnie touched a match to the fire starter amid the logs in the fireplace. Then she pulled a chair up to the card table and sat down. "Go ahead," she said. "Don't mind me. I just want to watch. I'm not much at cards, unless you count Go Fish and Old Maid. I used to play them by the hour with my mother while she sat at the window watching for my father. Evenings were especially hard for her and she needed distractions. I've found that most people have One time of day that's most difficult for them. It was dusk for my mother. All that blue light, maybe. For some people it's early morning. Hard starters, I call them. One of my patients in nurses' training hated 2:30 in the afternoon. She said everything bad that had ever happened to her happened at 2:30 in the afternoon. She'd had a car crash at 2:30, lost a job at 2:30, been left standing at the altar at 2:30. She'd even broken her leg skiing at 2:30. That's what she was in the hospital for, a broken leg. I suggested maybe she could have her watch fixed so it would go straight from 2:29 to 2:31 without stopping at 2:30, the way some hotels have elevators that go from the twelfth floor to the fourteenth floor with no thirteenth floor in between. Of course, there is a thirteenth floor, they're just calling it by another name, so I don't know who they're trying to kid."
As Sunnie talked, Boom-Boom edged his chair closer to hers, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and leaned his head on her shoulder. She glanced down at him, smiled, and kept talking.
"I suppose it would mess up her time, eventually. She'd be a minute short every day so—let me see—in two months she'd be an hour late for everything. Or would it be an hour early? Anyway, she'd be an hour off, and in a year that would be six hours. That's a lot—"
"Bicuspid!" Mr. Moreland exploded. "I can't hear myself think. How do you expect me to deal a hand of cards when I can't concentrate?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Sunnie said. "Sometimes I get going and I can't find a good stopping place. Why did you say 'bicuspid'?"
"Opal won't let me cuss. She says it lowers the tone of the place. But there're times I need to cuss, so I have to use other words that sound like cussing."
Everett smiled at Sunnie. "He is 'the most even-tempered man I ever knew. Always mad.' Attributed to a friend of Pancho Gonzales."
"Oh, he doesn't scare me," Sunnie said. "There's nothing wrong with him a good megadose of B-complex vitamins wouldn't cure."
"For your information, young lady," Mr. Moreland said, "my memory is shot full of holes. You can't plug them with vitamin pills."
"Would you be willing to give it a try?" Sunnie asked.
"Won't do any good," he said.
"I'll bring you some to take with your lunch," she said, gently lifting Boom-Boom's head from her shoulder. "You can get on with your game. I'll go sit with Virgil and Lyle."
Boom-Boom sucked his thumb and looked longingly after her as she walked across the room.
"Schnauzer!" Mr. Moreland cussed. "She, may have curves in places other girls don't even have places, but she hasn't got much between the ears."
Sunnie turned and smiled at him before she sat down on the couch with Lyle and Virgil, the pale, potato-shaped TV watchers. They both looked quickly at her out of the corners of their eyes and hastily turned back to the TV screen. They were as afraid of her as they were of everything else.
"What are these patches on your jackets?" Sunnie asked, pointing to two emblems on Virgil's jacket. Lyle's jacket was identical to Virgil's.
Virgil mumbled something.
"What?" Sunnie asked. "I can't hear you."
Virgil mumbled a little louder. Sunnie looked questioningly at him and then at Lyle.
"He's shy," Lyle whispered. "I've always been the bold one." He blushed and looked at his shoes. "The patches are from two clubs we belong to." His voice dwindled away to nothing.
"What clubs?" Sunnie asked. "This looks like a picture of a potato on a couch."
Lyle glanced quickly up at her and then down at his shoes again. "It is," he whispered. "We're Couch Potatoes."
"Couch potatoes?"
"Yes. It's an organization of people who watch a lot of television. The other patch is from the Flat Earth Society."
"But the earth is round," Sunnie said.
"Oh, no," Virgil said, speaking intelligibly for the first time. "Anybody can see the edge."
"But that's an illusion," Sunnie said. "There's lots more past the horizon."
Virgil and Lyle stared at their shoes and shook their heads back and forth like the pendulum on a clock.
"Oh, well," Sunnie said. "Tell me about the Couch Potatoes."
"You can join," Lyle whispered. "The ladies' group is the Couch Tomatoes. The children are Tater Tots."
"That's sweet of you," Sunnie said, "but I don't watch much TV. I'd rather read. I'd be glad to loan you some books. I have lots."
"TV's easier," Virgil whispered.
"Didn't anybody ever read to you while you were growing up?" Sunnie asked.
"Big family. No time," Lyle replied.
"Well, you've missed a lot of good books. I'm going to ask Opal if I can read aloud after dinner. Would you like that? We can make popcorn and sit here in front of the fire. I love to read out loud. I used to read to my mother all the time, especially when she was sick. Mostly, I read to her from my schoolbooks so I could kill two birds ... well, that's not a very nice way to put it, is it? I don't think my reading had anything to do with my mother's death, but she certainly died well informed. I hope she can use all that American history and algebra wherever she is now. To tell you the truth, I haven't found much use for it where I've been since then, but it must be some good or they wouldn't teach it so much in school, right? Well, you get back to your TV while I go talk to Opal."
Sunnie stood up and bumped into Graham, who had gradually edged closer and closer to the conversation from his usual post by the windows. "I'm sorry, Graham. Did you want something?"
"Would you read The Wind in the Willows? I have a copy."
"Of course. Is that a favorite book of yours?"
"Oh, yes. Especially the picnic where Mole and Ratty take 'coldchickencoldtonguecoldhamcoldbeef-pickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwidgespotted- meatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater—'"
"Yes, yes," Sunnie said. "I have to go talk to Opal. I'll expect to see you here after dinner tonight."
After dinner, to which Bentley and Sandy were again invited, Dr. Waldemar went upstairs to sit with the sleepers, and Sunnie took Graham's The Wind in the Willows into the library, where she sat in a chair before the fire and began to read. Boom-Boom sprawled on the floor at her feet, and Eddy's platform was rolled up near her. The others pulled chairs around her, except for Virgil and Lyle, who cooperated by turning the TV lower so it wouldn't interfere with the reading. L. Barlow Van Dyke and Mr. Moreland sat somewhat farther back, with their arms crossed over their chests.
When Sunnie finished the first chapter, she raised her head and was pleasantly surprised to find herself surrounded by a ring of spellbound faces, including Mr. Moreland's and Mr. Van Dyke's. Virgil and Lyle, for once, were turned away from the TV set. Boom-Boom leaned his head against her knee. "Read some more," he said, and
put his thumb in his mouth. All the heads nodded in agreement.
The room was in darkness except for the fire, one lamp on the table at Sunnie's elbow, and the blue glow of the TV. Sunnie turned back to her book and read the next chapter, in which Toad wrecks his beautiful gypsy wagon and falls in love with motorcars.
Sandy sat back in his chair, barely listening. He'd read The Wind in the Willows so often he'd almost memorized it. So he let the smooth sound of Sunnie's voice flow around him like water, carrying off some of the day's cares.
"Now, my friends," Sunnie said at the end of the chapter. "I'll have to stop if you want me to have any voice left for reading tomorrow. Besides, look how late it is. I must check on my patients. But tell me, didn't you enjoy that? And there are so many more wonderful books to read. Tonight you can all dream about traveling in a beautiful yellow gypsy cart like Toad's or rowing down the river for a picnic with Mole and Ratty. Let your imaginations take you on a trip. I'll bet none of you have given much thought to what it would be like to live in a hole by a riverbank, have you?"
In a thoughtful silence the inmates of Walnut Manor drifted out of the library to their rooms. Sandy knew he should get ready to leave, but he dreaded going back to poor Eclipse, so cold and empty now with everyone but Bentley gone all day. While Sunnie was reading, he had felt part of a big family. He sighed and went upstairs with Sunnie and Bentley to say good night to the sleepers.
"Sandy," Sunnie said. "I think it would be nice if you brought Louie over tomorrow. I'm sure he misses Attila and, who knows, maybe Attila misses him, too."
"What about L. Barlow Van Dyke, the cat molester? What if he tries to hurt Louie?"
"We'll look after Louie," she said. "Bring him tomorrow."
"Well, all right," he said. "If you think it's okay."
***
On their way back to Eclipse, Sandy asked Bentley how his experiments had gone that day.
"Nothing to shout about yet," Bentley said, "although I might be on to something promising. It'll take a few days. But I did devise a signal bell we can attach to each of the sleepers. If something about their conditions changes, the bell rings. That way, someone doesn't have to be with them all the time. Like tonight. While Sunnie was reading, Dr. Waldemar had to be sitting upstairs. If we have a warning bell, Sunnie can have a little more freedom."
"That's a good idea. I know this sounds strange, Bentley, but I love being at Walnut Manor. All the people are so interesting and there's always something going on."
"Maybe living out here so isolated for such a long time wasn't a very good idea," Bentley said. "Your mother and father were both tired of the city and all its problems, and so were Flossie and I; but maybe we should have balanced things better for you."
"Oh, I've loved living at Eclipse," Sandy assured Bentley. "But I am getting curious about what else there is. Bentley, would you teach me to drive?"
"Sure, I'll teach you to drive," Bentley said, even though he knew that once someone knew how to drive, the next thing he'd want would be to go somewhere.
CHAPTER 11
The next day Sandy drove the Daimler jerkily around and around the circular driveway, popping the clutch and leaving black tire marks behind him, while Bentley sucked in his breath and wished there were a brake pedal on the floor of the passenger's side of the car.
"There's more to this than I thought," Sandy said. "Bentley, you make it look so easy."
When they arrived at Walnut Manor, with Bentley gratefully behind the wheel of the Daimler, Sandy tucked Louie under his coat when he got out of the car. He looked carefully around for L. Barlow Van Dyke before he hurried up the stairs to the sickroom. When he entered the room, making sure the door was solidly closed behind him, Sandy opened his coat, and Louie jumped into Attila's dishpan. He sniffed her face, patted her with his paw, and then snuggled, next to her for a nap.
"See?" Sunnie said. "I told you he missed her."
"Just keep L. Barlow out of here." Sandy said good morning to the sleepers, touched their hands and kissed their cheeks, and then said proudly to Sunnie, "I had a driving lesson this morning. It's harder than it looks."
"Well, you're ahead of me there," she said. "I never learned to drive. We couldn't afford a car, so I took the bus and the subway when I wanted to go anywhere. When you learn, will you teach me? Mostly, I believe you can learn anything you need to know from a book, but maybe not driving. And cooking. I'm not sure about that, either. I'm not much of a cook. I was always too busy. I'm a great thawer, though, and a pretty good can opener. I don't know how Opal does it. Three meals a day for all these people, and she never seems to get tired. I wonder if she takes vitamins. I started Mr. Moreland on vitamins yesterday. He's skeptical, but I'm not. I've seen what vitamins can do—with depressed people and alcoholics and all kinds of problems. Just you wait and see. In a couple of weeks, his memory will start to improve and he'll be feeling ever so much better. Part of the reason he's as irritable as he is, is because he's scared. Think how you'd feel if you couldn't trust your own mind and you'd forgotten a lot of the things that made you important. There's nothing wrong with Mr. Moreland except that nobody wants him. Same with most of these people. Boom-Boom needs a mother. I don't know what kind of a mother he had to start with, but there's a part of him that didn't get enough mothering and it won't grow up until it gets some more. Graham needs to feel important. He's so fat because he's comforting himself with food. What kind of parents would put a nice young man like Graham in a place like this just because he eats too much? And poor little Virgil and Lyle. They're just afraid to live, and probably always have been, from the sound of things. Imagine believing the earth is flat! Why, if they'd ever taken a trip anywhere they'd know you don't fall off the edge. Sandy, once you've taught me, I'm going to take them for a long drive right over the edge of the horizon and show them. It's such a beautiful big world out there—parts of it, anyway. I will not let them sit indoors watching television forever. You only get one life. Everett, he's okay. He must be very educated and well read to know so many quotes. And he's got a point. Somebody else usually has said it better. I can see where his habit annoyed his wife, but nothing's wrong with him. And I'm going to get L. Barlow to talk, if it kills me. Now Eddy, he has me worried. He's not like the rest. He doesn't do anything. Why is that? Oh, Sandy, this is just a dream come true for me. All these wonderful patients to take care of. A nice place to live. And time to read. I thank my lucky stars every day for sending me to Eclipse."
"I thank mine, too." Sandy said. "For sending you."
"I do my best," she said modestly. "Now, Sandy, you run along. I have to bathe my patients and do my morning chores. I'll see you at lunch."
Sandy went downstairs, where he was invited to join the card game.
"I played a lot of cards with my parents when I was younger, but I don't know if I can keep up with you."
"Sit down and give it a try," Mr. Moreland said, anticipating having someone new to beat.
So Sandy joined the game and surprised himself by winning almost every hand. Everybody else was surprised, too. Boom-Boom stuck his thumb in his mouth and sulked and refused to pick up his cards when they were dealt to him. He told himself that nobody likes a poor loser, but he didn't listen.
Mr. Moreland, dismayed at losing for the first time in years, began to criticize Sandy's card-playing strategy as disorganized, haphazard, and just phenomenally lucky. He went on so long that Boom-Boom got bored and wandered over to watch a bit of TV with Virgil and Lyle before lunch. L. Barlow Van Dyke glowered and shuffled the cards over and over, and Everett pulled a book out of his pocket and began reading it.
"I never realized playing cards could be so complicated," Sandy said. "I thought games were for fun."
"Winning's the fun part," Mr. Moreland said. "Even if you just do it by luck. But I can tell that even somebody who plays like you do has a natural ability for management," he finally conceded.
Everett raised his head from his book and re
marked, "'Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will.' Jawaharlal Nehru."
"Look how much you've learned from me already about playing cards," Mr Moreland said, forgetting that Sandy had beaten him before his directions. "If I still had my wits, I could teach you lots of things. Why, I could teach you so much about managing money you'd be a millionaire in a year."
"I think I already am a millionaire."
"Inherited money doesn't count," Mr. Moreland sniffed. "You don't have the passion for it that you do for the stuff you make by yourself. You should have that pleasure, boy."
"It's too bad you can't teach me. Sunnie wants me to learn about finance, but the book is so thick and the print is so small, I don't even want to start."
"You have to have your hands on money to make finance interesting, boy. Dealing with it theoretically out of a book won't work. I think maybe we should play some Monopoly instead of cards. L. Barlow would like that, too. He was always a nut for making money." He sighed. "Now he's just a nut. Like the rest of us."
"Sunnie doesn't think you're nuts," Sandy said. "Just—I don't know—misunderstood? Unappreciated? Something like that."
"Oh, what does she know?" Mr. Moreland asked grumpily. "She's just a kid."
Sandy, who had thought Mr. Moreland would be pleased that someone thought he wasn't a nut, was puzzled. Was Mr. Moreland just so contrary that he automatically disagreed with everything, or was his reaction something Sandy would have understood if he'd been more worldly? A few months ago he'd thought he knew everything worth knowing, but lately he'd realized how much more complicated real life was than the safe, simple imitation of it he'd had at Eclipse.
CHAPTER 12
Fortunately there was little traffic on Old Country Road. Sandy was now driving the Daimler from Eclipse to Walnut Manor every morning, while Bentley sat beside him holding his breath and pressing his right foot into the floor.