Read Online What Is Left the Daughter by Howard Norman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Howard Norman
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example, you can't use Germaniawerft," my uncle said, "the operation which builds a lot of U-boats. Germaniawerftânever mind my pronunciation, Hans."
"Donald,
please
," my aunt said.
"Or Deutsche Werft, which built
U-553,
the one that sunk the
Nicoya
off the Gaspe," my uncle said. "And you can't use its goddamn son-of-a-bitch shithole commander's name, Karl Thurmann."
"I understand," Hans said.
"Come to think of it, don't try and get away with 'Rapunzel' or 'Rumpelstiltskin,' either."
Tilda took the Criss Cross set down from a shelf. My aunt washed and racked the dishes, and my uncle went outside to cool down with a cigarette. Tilda got all the little wooden Criss Cross letters lined up neatly. "You always have exactly ten letters to work with, Hans," she said.
"So, 'Rumpelstiltskin' wouldn't be allowed anyway," Hans said.
"Each turn, you spell out a word, then choose replacement letters. We play until all the letters run out," Tilda said, unfolding the board on the dining room table. Donald stepped back into the house. He and Constance said good night and repaired to their bedroom. Tilda, Hans and I sat at the table.
Tilda went through the few remaining rules, ending with "âeach letter is worth a different amount. In the end, the player who's got the most points wins the game."
"It's mainly a spelling competition, I think," Hans said.
"Look at their values, Hans. Short words can be worth quite a lot," Tilda said. "The main thing is, you have to join your word to someone else's word." She formed a cross with her two pointer fingers. "Like an intersection on the road. The words
crisscross.
"
"I'm prepared to start," Hans said.
We played for an hour, then we had seconds of ice cream. Tilda made coffee, which we took into the parlor. Back at the table, it was Hans's turn. He set down "ravishing."
"That's a lot of points," Tilda said.
"Do you know this word, Wyatt? Ravishing?" Hans asked. "Its definition isâwell, basically, it's Tilda. Don't you agree?"
Quitting the game, I left the house and walked to the wharf. Stood there hangdog, only in shirtsleeves. Roiled up. See, what had caught up with me, standing there in the cold fog of the wharf, was the stark belief that I was illiterate in matters of the heart. That is, I felt Tilda
was
ravishing, but I hadn't known to use that perfect word. I stood there for quite a while. Finally, my uncle's truck appeared and I walked toward it. My aunt was on the passenger side. They were both dressed properly for the weather. "You'll catch your death, Wyatt," my uncle said. I got in beside my aunt in the front seat. But my uncle opened his door and got out. He walked to the end of the dock and smoked a cigarette.
"Tilda said you might be down here," my aunt said.
"Where's Tilda now?" I said.
"She's not at home."
"I've a mind to go over to the bakery."
"And do what? You'd get to the bakery and do what?"
"Let's just get Uncle Donald and drive back to the house, then."
"Donald won't smoke the whole cigarette, so with what time we've got, please listen."
"All right."
"First off, I took to heart your undignified behavior, Wyatt. I mean at supper, and later on when I eavesdropped on your game of Criss Cross. And just so you know, Donald and I are quite aware of Tilda and this German boy's fawning over each other right from the start. Make no mistake about it, Hans Mohring has a genuine courtship in progress."
"I know that," I said.
"We need to keep our distance from it, Donald and I. Tilda's allowed her young woman's discoveries, eh? On the other hand, and Lord knows I'm no great student of people, but when you and Tilda are in the same room, you should just see how you light up. And how often in a lifetime do you have to hear 'All's fair in love and war' for it to become useful?"
"Really, you see me as being in love with Tilda, Aunt Constance?"
"Yes I do. Yes I do. How do you see yourself, Wyatt?"
"The same way."
"Wyatt, here's my two cents' worth of
"Donald,
please
," my aunt said.
"Or Deutsche Werft, which built
U-553,
the one that sunk the
Nicoya
off the Gaspe," my uncle said. "And you can't use its goddamn son-of-a-bitch shithole commander's name, Karl Thurmann."
"I understand," Hans said.
"Come to think of it, don't try and get away with 'Rapunzel' or 'Rumpelstiltskin,' either."
Tilda took the Criss Cross set down from a shelf. My aunt washed and racked the dishes, and my uncle went outside to cool down with a cigarette. Tilda got all the little wooden Criss Cross letters lined up neatly. "You always have exactly ten letters to work with, Hans," she said.
"So, 'Rumpelstiltskin' wouldn't be allowed anyway," Hans said.
"Each turn, you spell out a word, then choose replacement letters. We play until all the letters run out," Tilda said, unfolding the board on the dining room table. Donald stepped back into the house. He and Constance said good night and repaired to their bedroom. Tilda, Hans and I sat at the table.
Tilda went through the few remaining rules, ending with "âeach letter is worth a different amount. In the end, the player who's got the most points wins the game."
"It's mainly a spelling competition, I think," Hans said.
"Look at their values, Hans. Short words can be worth quite a lot," Tilda said. "The main thing is, you have to join your word to someone else's word." She formed a cross with her two pointer fingers. "Like an intersection on the road. The words
crisscross.
"
"I'm prepared to start," Hans said.
We played for an hour, then we had seconds of ice cream. Tilda made coffee, which we took into the parlor. Back at the table, it was Hans's turn. He set down "ravishing."
"That's a lot of points," Tilda said.
"Do you know this word, Wyatt? Ravishing?" Hans asked. "Its definition isâwell, basically, it's Tilda. Don't you agree?"
Quitting the game, I left the house and walked to the wharf. Stood there hangdog, only in shirtsleeves. Roiled up. See, what had caught up with me, standing there in the cold fog of the wharf, was the stark belief that I was illiterate in matters of the heart. That is, I felt Tilda
was
ravishing, but I hadn't known to use that perfect word. I stood there for quite a while. Finally, my uncle's truck appeared and I walked toward it. My aunt was on the passenger side. They were both dressed properly for the weather. "You'll catch your death, Wyatt," my uncle said. I got in beside my aunt in the front seat. But my uncle opened his door and got out. He walked to the end of the dock and smoked a cigarette.
"Tilda said you might be down here," my aunt said.
"Where's Tilda now?" I said.
"She's not at home."
"I've a mind to go over to the bakery."
"And do what? You'd get to the bakery and do what?"
"Let's just get Uncle Donald and drive back to the house, then."
"Donald won't smoke the whole cigarette, so with what time we've got, please listen."
"All right."
"First off, I took to heart your undignified behavior, Wyatt. I mean at supper, and later on when I eavesdropped on your game of Criss Cross. And just so you know, Donald and I are quite aware of Tilda and this German boy's fawning over each other right from the start. Make no mistake about it, Hans Mohring has a genuine courtship in progress."
"I know that," I said.
"We need to keep our distance from it, Donald and I. Tilda's allowed her young woman's discoveries, eh? On the other hand, and Lord knows I'm no great student of people, but when you and Tilda are in the same room, you should just see how you light up. And how often in a lifetime do you have to hear 'All's fair in love and war' for it to become useful?"
"Really, you see me as being in love with Tilda, Aunt Constance?"
"Yes I do. Yes I do. How do you see yourself, Wyatt?"
"The same way."
"Wyatt, here's my two cents' worth of
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