boy, I want you to play ‘Black-Eyed Susan’
with me. I’ll be practicing.”
Amos couldn’t speak. He only held out his arms for the violin case.
k
When they landed at the Haskell dock, Danial was there to meet
them. Claris was much calmer, soothed by the quiet sail and the presence
of her beautiful boy.
“You took your time,” was Danial’s greeting. Bowdoin Leach
started handing bags up onto the dock.
“Father—William can come out to visit me!”
“That’s fine. He’s a nice boy.”
“I can play Authors!”
“Can you?” Danial was waiting for Amos to say he was glad to be
home. He was waiting for Claris to start in about how he had gone off
and left them. He’d been thinking about this as he lived there alone for
three weeks, picturing the scene in the Osgood house. From time to time
he had wondered what he would do if they never came back.
“Father, look! Leander gave me Otis’s fiddle!” Bowdoin Leach was
handing the last of the gear up out of the boat to Claris.
Danial stopped what he was doing and looked at his son. “Why,
you’re turning into a regular little Osgood, aren’t you?” he said.
Claris’s face burned. She heard the nastiness in his voice. “Thank
you, Bowdoin, for all your help,” she said, and took the bow line off the
cleat, wanting no witness to the rest of the scene. At a nod from Bowdoin
she cast him off and turned to Danial, but he was looking at Amos.
8 6
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
“You will not play that thing in our house, or I’ll throw it in the
bay.”
Amos was shocked. He drew closer to his mother and stared at
Danial.
“We are Haskells out here,” he said. “Let’s not forget it.” He picked
up Claris’s carpetbag and started for the house.
“He won’t throw it in the bay, it belongs to you,” said Claris to
Amos. “Come on, bring your things.” She gathered the baby’s gear and
started up the wooden walk to the house.
8 7
Edith was in a fine mood the morning after the lights went
out. I don’t know why; it had been utterly terrifying stumbling around
in the cellar, dank as a grave and darker, trying to find the fuse box.
(Dot Sylvester had confirmed on the telephone that the blackout was
only at our house; the lights were on in the village.) I imagined that
horrible figure in every corner; I could see its sallow eyes, and if
anything had reached out and touched me in the dark, my heart would
have blown out like an overfilled tire.
I held the oil lamp high, casting long stretched-out shadows of
Edith and me onto the walls, while Edith marched fearlessly into the
darkness like Stanley searching for Livingstone, full of confidence and
purpose. She found the fuse box under the stairs, and I held the lamp
for her as she unscrewed one fuse, then another, finding every single
one of them blackened and dead.
8 8
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
“What on earth could have made them all go at once?” she kept
saying. “It must have been lightning.”
“There wasn’t any.”
“There must have been. We just didn’t see it.”
Fortunately she had found two entire boxes of fresh fuses in a
kitchen drawer, as if sudden blackout was a contingency Miss Hamor
had had to contend with often.
But when I came downstairs the next morning, the sun was out,
finally. The kitchen door was standing open to let the light in. Edith
had made oatmeal for our breakfast and put out a pitcher of maple
syrup. Stephen was already eating. I said, “Good morning, Mother.”
She said “Good morning, Hannah,” quite civil, but when she took a
good look at me she added, “My, don’t you look awful in bangs.” She
appeared to get a real kick out of that.
When she finished her gruel she said, “Well, I’m sure you re-
member that Grandma Adele arrives today. Will you change the sheets
in the front room, Hannah, and clean the bathroom before we go to
meet the train?” I said I would just nip up to the
with me. I’ll be practicing.”
Amos couldn’t speak. He only held out his arms for the violin case.
k
When they landed at the Haskell dock, Danial was there to meet
them. Claris was much calmer, soothed by the quiet sail and the presence
of her beautiful boy.
“You took your time,” was Danial’s greeting. Bowdoin Leach
started handing bags up onto the dock.
“Father—William can come out to visit me!”
“That’s fine. He’s a nice boy.”
“I can play Authors!”
“Can you?” Danial was waiting for Amos to say he was glad to be
home. He was waiting for Claris to start in about how he had gone off
and left them. He’d been thinking about this as he lived there alone for
three weeks, picturing the scene in the Osgood house. From time to time
he had wondered what he would do if they never came back.
“Father, look! Leander gave me Otis’s fiddle!” Bowdoin Leach was
handing the last of the gear up out of the boat to Claris.
Danial stopped what he was doing and looked at his son. “Why,
you’re turning into a regular little Osgood, aren’t you?” he said.
Claris’s face burned. She heard the nastiness in his voice. “Thank
you, Bowdoin, for all your help,” she said, and took the bow line off the
cleat, wanting no witness to the rest of the scene. At a nod from Bowdoin
she cast him off and turned to Danial, but he was looking at Amos.
8 6
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
“You will not play that thing in our house, or I’ll throw it in the
bay.”
Amos was shocked. He drew closer to his mother and stared at
Danial.
“We are Haskells out here,” he said. “Let’s not forget it.” He picked
up Claris’s carpetbag and started for the house.
“He won’t throw it in the bay, it belongs to you,” said Claris to
Amos. “Come on, bring your things.” She gathered the baby’s gear and
started up the wooden walk to the house.
8 7
Edith was in a fine mood the morning after the lights went
out. I don’t know why; it had been utterly terrifying stumbling around
in the cellar, dank as a grave and darker, trying to find the fuse box.
(Dot Sylvester had confirmed on the telephone that the blackout was
only at our house; the lights were on in the village.) I imagined that
horrible figure in every corner; I could see its sallow eyes, and if
anything had reached out and touched me in the dark, my heart would
have blown out like an overfilled tire.
I held the oil lamp high, casting long stretched-out shadows of
Edith and me onto the walls, while Edith marched fearlessly into the
darkness like Stanley searching for Livingstone, full of confidence and
purpose. She found the fuse box under the stairs, and I held the lamp
for her as she unscrewed one fuse, then another, finding every single
one of them blackened and dead.
8 8
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
“What on earth could have made them all go at once?” she kept
saying. “It must have been lightning.”
“There wasn’t any.”
“There must have been. We just didn’t see it.”
Fortunately she had found two entire boxes of fresh fuses in a
kitchen drawer, as if sudden blackout was a contingency Miss Hamor
had had to contend with often.
But when I came downstairs the next morning, the sun was out,
finally. The kitchen door was standing open to let the light in. Edith
had made oatmeal for our breakfast and put out a pitcher of maple
syrup. Stephen was already eating. I said, “Good morning, Mother.”
She said “Good morning, Hannah,” quite civil, but when she took a
good look at me she added, “My, don’t you look awful in bangs.” She
appeared to get a real kick out of that.
When she finished her gruel she said, “Well, I’m sure you re-
member that Grandma Adele arrives today. Will you change the sheets
in the front room, Hannah, and clean the bathroom before we go to
meet the train?” I said I would just nip up to the
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