Part 13 (1/2)

Miriam picked up the sc.r.a.ps of the postcard, and dropped them one by one onto her plate. She said, ”The reason you married Early was to spite Grand-mama.”

Sister nodded.

”But after Grandmama died, there was no reason to stay married to Early. Early chews tobacco.”

”He made me feed his dogs out of a nipple-bottle. Twice a night, I had to get up and feed those puppies. It was like having six children all at once. He put a c.o.ke machine on the front porch of our house.” Sister blushed with the memory. ”I came home one day and saw that, and I said, 'If Mama were to come up here and see this, I would have to lay down in the road and die of shame.'”

”And that's why, when Mama died, you stayed on here. You didn't stay to keep care of me, you stayed 'cause you didn't want to go back to Early.”

”How long have you known this?”

”I just this minute figured it out,” said Miriam with a little shrug.

”I loved you, darling, and I did want to take care of you.”

”I know you did, Sister.”

”You don't want me to go back to Early, do you?

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I know you could get along fine without me, and I know this house really and truly belongs to you, but I don't want to go back to Nashville or wherever it is that man is living now. Miriam, darling, sometimes I sit up in my room at night, and I think, 'What if Miriam gets married and she moves her husband in here, is she gone throw me out?' Would you do that, would you throw me out?”

”Sister, you're rich, don't you know that? Grand-mama left all her money to you and Oscar. All I got was this house and the safety-deposit boxes. If I threw you out of here, you could go anywhere you wanted to. You could set up housekeeping in the main street of New Orleans if you wanted to. If you wanted to stay in Perdido, you could get the DeBordenave house from James and fix it all up any way you liked it.”

”That's not answering my question.”

Miriam grinned. ”I'm not gone get married. I haven't got time. I'm working every minute of the day and half the night. And even if I did,” she added in a lower voice, ”I'd never throw you out.”

”That's what I wanted to hear!”

”Are you satisfied?” said Miriam, rising from the table. ”Where do you suppose Oscar is? It's getting late.”

”Miriam, come hug me!”

”What for?”

”For being so sweet!”

”Oh, Sister, whoever called me sweet before?”

”Well, I never did-and n.o.body else did either, within my hearing. But we were all wrong-every one of us.”

Miriam went over and put her arms briefly about Sister's neck. Sister reached up and squeezed Miriam's clenched fists as hard as she could.

All James Caskey's prayers and all Billy Bronze's words in the ear of his commanding officer had not 170.

been able to keep Danjo Strickland from being transferred away from Eglin Air Base.

”This is going to kill me,” said James to his nephew when Danjo told him of the orders.

”It is not,” said Danjo. ”By the time I get over there, wherever it is they're sending me, the war is gone be over.”

”Who's gone die first?” demanded James Caskey querulously. ”You or me? Are you gone get shot before I die of grief? Or I am gone get laid out in my casket before you get mown down on the battlefield?”

”Neither one is gone happen,” said Danjo calmly. ”That's why I was trained in radio. They don't put their radiomen at the front. Or at least most of 'em stay way behind the lines. Besides, look at Germany right now, where are there lines? We're beating 'em way back, James.”

James rocked violently on the porch and wouldn't look up at Danjo, as if somehow all this were his doing.

”Hey, look at me, James.”

James looked up but didn't stop rocking.

”I don't want to go,” said Danjo softly. ”I don't want to leave you. Don't you think I'm gone miss you?”

”Don't bother to write,” said James.

”Why not?”

” 'Cause I'm gone be dead.”

Two days after Danjo was s.h.i.+pped out, Germany surrendered. James was certain that Danjo therefore was being sent to the continued, b.l.o.o.d.y fighting in the Pacific.

Billy heard two weeks later that Danjo was in Germany, billeted in a castle on a mountaintop east of Munich. His sole duty was to signal Allied planes a safe path to a nearby landing field.

A letter confirming this arrived a few days later.

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Danjo complained of nothing but the boredom and the strict injunction against the fraternizing with the conquered citizenry. The castle had its own cook, its own farm, even its own vineyard. The graf and his two daughters lived in rooms below his. The graf was a nice old man who reminded Danjo of James- except, of course, the graf didn't speak English and didn't like Americans-and the two daughters were very pretty and very nice and made his bed for him every morning.

Billy heard this letter read aloud at the dinner table. He sighed and said, ”Let him complain. When I think of the number of men I trained who're dead now...”

”He could fall off that mountain,” said James. ”That old graf could murder him in his bed!” James had somehow got it into his head that ”graf” meant ”cobbler,” and he wondered how a shoemaker came into possession of a castle.

”Nothing's going to happen to Danjo,” said Queenie sternly. ”James, I don't want you to imagine one single thing more.”

James was seventy-five. It had been his lifelong quirk to show his age only in fits and starts. He would go along for five, ten, or fifteen years with no perceptible alteration of appearance or demeanor. Then one single event would suddenly pour down those years upon his head in a single moment. Such had been the case when his wife Genevieve had died violently on the Atmore road; he had then been a well-preserved young man suddenly thrust into middle years. The death of his sister-in-law Mary-Love had swept the well-preserved middle-aged man into old age. This departure of Danjo to Europe pitched James Caskey from a st.u.r.dy old age into incipient senility.

James was alone and Queenie was alone, so Queenie gave up her house and moved in with James.

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She even laughed about the situation to Elinor: ”When I came to Perdido twenty-something years ago, I thought to myself, Til get a divorce from Carl and then I'll marry James Caskey. He's a rich man and his money will make me happy.' That seemed real simple. Now it's hard to even think of all the things that have happened over those years. But here I am, moving in with him, and it's me that's taking care of him. And you know what's real funny, Elinor?”

”What?”