little Jonathan coos at me as I start down the stairs. I scoop him up and start back up the steps. Miss Mamie only allows the children to play in their room, the front yard, or in the street. They’re not allowed in the common areas downstairs and never anywhere near the garden in the backyard.
“You’re the pretty one, sweet boy.” I give him a little kiss on the cheek and he squeals in delight. “
Shhhh
, Miss Mamie will hear you.” How that horrible landlady expects these children to grow up in this house without making a sound is beyond me. But Claire does a good job keeping them occupied and quiet enough to only warrant an occasional dirty look from the old bat. I knock softly on Claire’s door.
She opens the door and reaches for Jonathan. “Ah, there’s my little Houdini. Thanks, Vada. You’ve only been here two days and already I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The leggy three-year-old wraps himself around his mother and lays his head sweetly against her shoulder. “Did Miss Mamie see him?”
“Stop your worrying, Claire. I got him before he was halfway down the stairs,” I whisper. “I wish the boys didn’t have to walk about the house like they’re in church.”
“Me, too, but it seems all my wishes are ignored these days.”
Last night, when I was porch sitting and making polite conversation with the three ancient bachelors, Mr. Clip and Mr. Mann told me that Claire’s husband hadn’t even been drafted until a few months before the war was over. Bobby Greeley had made it through hell only to have “a Kraut get him” a few days after the war ended and he was due to come home. Mr. Stanley, who is a particularly unattractive bachelor, didn’t comment but said something about Claire. The words were nice, but the way he said it was so unsettling, I excused myself and went to bed.
“I don’t have any family here in Round O and neither did Bobby, so we’re stuck here,” Claire says. “I keep wishing there was someplace besides this awful house for us to live, because I don’t know how long I can keep them quiet. They are children. Boys at that. I’m not even sure it’s good for them to be quiet all the time.” Her older two, Daniel and Peter, read quietly in a corner of the room; they look up at us and then quickly back down at their books.
Her smile is worried. She is pretty and petite, with long jet-black hair pulled back with a tattered strip of satin that looks like it was white at one time. The room is as threadbare and shabby as mine, except there is a stack of other people’s mending Claire takes in to pay her rent. This is no place to raise three children.
“I got the job. It doesn’t start until September, but—” She stops me before I can say what I’m thinking.
“Vada, that’s wonderful. Oh, you’ll have Daniel this year; he’ll be so pleased. I think he has a bit of a crush on you.” The boy doesn’t look up again from his book, but the only thing redder than his face is his ears, which are too big for him.
“Yes, well, I was thinking, since I’ll have a little money coming in on a regular basis, maybe we could find a small house to rent. Together. I could help out with the boys, especially during the summers, and I have a friend who might—”
“No.” She looks mortified and not at all as excited as I was sure she would be. “We couldn’t do that.” She sets the little one down, and he toddles over to where his brothers are reading. He plops down hard on the floor with an empty wooden spool in each hand and begins to roll them across the floor.
“Why not, Claire? Between the two of us, we could swing it.”
“You don’t understand—” Her face is pale, her eyes look worried, as if little Jonathan had taken a tumble down the stairs.
“What’s there to understand, really? It would be fun. I—”
“Lower your voice, Vada.” Hers is barely above a whisper. “This is a small community, and you’re new here. You’ve probably
“You’re the pretty one, sweet boy.” I give him a little kiss on the cheek and he squeals in delight. “
Shhhh
, Miss Mamie will hear you.” How that horrible landlady expects these children to grow up in this house without making a sound is beyond me. But Claire does a good job keeping them occupied and quiet enough to only warrant an occasional dirty look from the old bat. I knock softly on Claire’s door.
She opens the door and reaches for Jonathan. “Ah, there’s my little Houdini. Thanks, Vada. You’ve only been here two days and already I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The leggy three-year-old wraps himself around his mother and lays his head sweetly against her shoulder. “Did Miss Mamie see him?”
“Stop your worrying, Claire. I got him before he was halfway down the stairs,” I whisper. “I wish the boys didn’t have to walk about the house like they’re in church.”
“Me, too, but it seems all my wishes are ignored these days.”
Last night, when I was porch sitting and making polite conversation with the three ancient bachelors, Mr. Clip and Mr. Mann told me that Claire’s husband hadn’t even been drafted until a few months before the war was over. Bobby Greeley had made it through hell only to have “a Kraut get him” a few days after the war ended and he was due to come home. Mr. Stanley, who is a particularly unattractive bachelor, didn’t comment but said something about Claire. The words were nice, but the way he said it was so unsettling, I excused myself and went to bed.
“I don’t have any family here in Round O and neither did Bobby, so we’re stuck here,” Claire says. “I keep wishing there was someplace besides this awful house for us to live, because I don’t know how long I can keep them quiet. They are children. Boys at that. I’m not even sure it’s good for them to be quiet all the time.” Her older two, Daniel and Peter, read quietly in a corner of the room; they look up at us and then quickly back down at their books.
Her smile is worried. She is pretty and petite, with long jet-black hair pulled back with a tattered strip of satin that looks like it was white at one time. The room is as threadbare and shabby as mine, except there is a stack of other people’s mending Claire takes in to pay her rent. This is no place to raise three children.
“I got the job. It doesn’t start until September, but—” She stops me before I can say what I’m thinking.
“Vada, that’s wonderful. Oh, you’ll have Daniel this year; he’ll be so pleased. I think he has a bit of a crush on you.” The boy doesn’t look up again from his book, but the only thing redder than his face is his ears, which are too big for him.
“Yes, well, I was thinking, since I’ll have a little money coming in on a regular basis, maybe we could find a small house to rent. Together. I could help out with the boys, especially during the summers, and I have a friend who might—”
“No.” She looks mortified and not at all as excited as I was sure she would be. “We couldn’t do that.” She sets the little one down, and he toddles over to where his brothers are reading. He plops down hard on the floor with an empty wooden spool in each hand and begins to roll them across the floor.
“Why not, Claire? Between the two of us, we could swing it.”
“You don’t understand—” Her face is pale, her eyes look worried, as if little Jonathan had taken a tumble down the stairs.
“What’s there to understand, really? It would be fun. I—”
“Lower your voice, Vada.” Hers is barely above a whisper. “This is a small community, and you’re new here. You’ve probably
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