Read Online Blessings by Belva Plain - Free Book Online Page A

the painting. “Salutations, Major. He was my grandfather, you know, and I can remember him. I’m the only one left who can. I’ll tell you, I was five when he died, and all I remember, to be honest about it, is that he kept bees. Hello, here’s our Sally June.”
    A second girl in a white tennis dress came in with her.
    “Annie Ruth Marsh, Jennie Rakowsky. Thank you so much for the cake, dear,” Mrs. Mendes said. “Annie Ruth remembered how we all adored that Low-Country fruitcake their cook makes.”
    “Mother thought they’d be a nice house gift for this time of year,” said Annie Ruth, “because you can keep adding brandy all summer and they’ll be perfect for the holidays.”
    House gift. Then you were supposed to bring a present? Why hadn’t Peter told her? He should have told her. But how could he have said, “Listen, you’re supposed to bring something, Jennie.”
    It was cold here, cold and foreign. She was relieved when dinner was announced. Eating would take up the time. There wouldn’t be a need for conversation.
    The table was polished like black glass. On each linen mat stood a glittering group of objects: blue porcelain, silver, and crystal. For a moment Jennie had a recollection of her mother bringing the ketchup bottle … Dinner was served by the same black man, Spencer, in the white jacket. Talk was easy, chiefly carried on by the men, who spoke about the local elections, golf, and family gossip. The food was delicately flavored and included a soup that Jennie learned from someone’s casual comment was black turtle, roast lamb fragrant with rosemary, and beets cut into rosebuds. She ate slowly, seeing herself as a spectator, observing herself as she observed and listened.
    Suddenly came the inevitable subject of Vietnam, with a report of yesterday’s battle and body count. The grandfather spoke up.
    “What we need is to stop pussyfooting, once and for all. We need to go in there and bomb the hell out of Hanoi.”
    Peter’s father added, “We’re the laughingstock of the world. A power like this country allowing itself to be tossed around like”—he glanced indignantly around the table—”like, I don’t know what. These young people marching, this rabble protesting! If any son of mine did that … Believe me, if this war is still on—and I hope it won’t be, that we’ll have trounced them by then—but if it should still be on when Peter’s through with college, I’ll expect him to put on a uniform like a man and do his duty. Right, Peter?”
    Peter swallowed a mouthful. He looked past Jennie to where his father sat behind the wine decanter.
    “Right,” he echoed.
    She was aware that her astonishment was showing on her face, and she wiped the expression away, thinking, But you told me, whenever we spoke about it, you told me that you would never go, never; that it was an immoral, useless war. All the things you said, Peter!
    “And most of your friends, what’s their attitude, Peter?” the grandfather inquired.
    “Oh, we don’t talk about it that much.”
    Not talk about it that much! That’s what everybody talked about most—in class, after class, in the cafeterias and half the night. You might even say that’s all we talk about!
    The grandfather persisted. “But they must have some opinion.”
    Peter’s face was reddening. “Well, naturally some think one way, some another.”
    “Well, I hope you speak up like a man, unlike these whining cowards, and defend your President. You just can’t let them get away with defeatist talk. That’s what weakens a country. I certainly hope you don’t sit silently and let them get away with it, Peter.”
    “No, sir,” Peter said.
    Mrs. Mendes interrupted. “Oh, enough politics! Let’s talk about happier things, like Cindy’s birthday party tomorrow.” She explained to Jennie, “Cindy’s a cousin, actually a second cousin, who’s turning twenty-one, and they’re having a small formal dance for her at home. I do hope it