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“We’ll make out,” I’ve said it so much, Carol, ever since you left for the hospital four months ago. I say it daily, painfully to the children, and hope they believe what I’ve never believed myself. •._The door shuddered open the way it does, and Benjy, Bob, and Jane crowded in behind Anne. _
“Daddy, did Anne get it?”
I looked at them. “No.” I said.
“Oh, Daddy.” Jane started weeping into her sleeve. Bob and Benjy stared beyond me. They knew why—it was the old reasonnot* enough money.
“I’m sorry, Children.” I tbld therm" , -
Bob threw his hat in the corner. “She wanted it last year,too,,”he , said briefly. ' \ , I knew if, Carol. You wanted it last year, and the year before, and, the year before. I knew though you never said anything when there were always boots and mittens and milk to buyr I’ve watched you lovingly dust off your old records and I noticed when you finally stopped looking at the record catalogues. Then you began to be tired all the time and none of those things seemed to really matter any more. And when the doctor said— tuberculosis . . . .!
I’ve never regretted asking for an indefinite leave of absence from work. Nobody wanted all five children, and I couldn’t face the thought of separating them. It’s, better that I should be here. By doing "odd jobs where I can, I’m able to buy groceries most of the time, and -once in awhile a pair of ‘ shoes.
Well, I got up from the step, picked up Joey who was breathing in my ear, and told the crew of them, “Get the decorations up, children, we’ve got work to do.” Anyway, we had leftover tinsel and lights and bells. They went to work, a joyless procession.
While I stood there untangling the light cords, and watching their d is pi r i ted preparations, Anne touched me on the arm.
“Maybe I should make cookies the way mother used to. Do you think I could?” _All I could do was pat her hand and say inadequately, “Sure, dear, I think that would be fine . . . fine.” /
She went toward the kitchen, looking very old and very young at the same time.
There was only one thing to do. I called up Andrew Emery and told him I’d sell him the grandfather clock. His wife always wanted it, and she really has the setting for it, anyway. Oh, I know, Carol, it’s the only real. heirloom we have to pass on but it wasn’t making anyone happy this
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