things—the scrub oaks, wild poppies and the does that leaped my grandfather’s gates at dusk.
“Yep. Everything that burns,” Gram confirmed.
“But why?” I wondered. “Why is God so angry?”
“He’s had to put up with a lot of sinful baloney over the ages, hon,” Gram said. “He’s had to see just about every rotten thing men have done since the beginning of time. I guess that’s enough to make anybody pretty darn mad.” She said it as if she was the mad one, grasping the steering wheel with her knotty hands.
“What about women?” Ali drawled, staring out the side window. “Haven’t they sinned, as well? Haven’t they lied and cheated?” I glimpsed my mother’s stony profile.
“Why, sure,” Gram said as we began the steep ascent up the driveway. “Women do their share of sinning. But it’s the men as are always starting the wars, isn’t it? It’s them that can’t seem to help slaughtering each other.” We pulled into the carport, made our way to the kitchen, past Nick working in the garage.
“How come the men never do any housework?” I asked as the four of us busied ourselves with preparations for the midday meal. “And how come they get to go fishing and play while we go to Sabbath School?”
“Ha! I don’t believe Poppy’s been in church since your mom and daddy were married,” said Gram, handing Ali the green linen place mats. “He believes he’s got a personal arrangement worked out with God. Isn’t that typical of a man?”
“Not all men are the same,” said Mom, pouring milk into short glasses. “Some are less obnoxious than others.”
“Yes, well, obnoxious or not, it’s our job to stand by them,” declared Gram. “Little Janie doesn’t stand by Peter, and if you ask me, that’s why their marriage is faltering.”
“What do you mean, faltering? ” asked Ali.
“I’ll be surprised if they make it a year,” announced Gram. “You mark my words.” She placed her hands on my mother’s shoulders, peering up into her face. “Poppy won’t take it well, if there’s a divorce. He won’t take kindly to it.”
My mother tried to move away, but Gram’s birdlike hold on her shoulders seemed to tighten. “I can see what’s going on, Elaine,” she said, over-enunciating. “It’s about young women not taking their God-given roles to heart. You hear me?”
“Please, Mom.” Elaine squirmed her off. “The onions are burning.”
July third came and went and still Dad and Poppy hadn’t come back. I overheard Mom talking on the phone the morning of the Fourth as Gram and I shucked corn on the front patio.
“Yes, well, I know it’s important to get a good catch, but—I know, Don. I know how he is, but you were due back yesterday.”
Pause.
“No, we’re fine. Just be home for the fireworks or—” She frowned. “Oh, right. I keep forgetting. Well, be back for dinner, then. It’s not like we’ve had a family vacation anyway. Not that we ever do.”
Pause.
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m still here.”
An hour or two later, while Gram was napping, my mother retrieved me from the hammock where I was working in my new sketchbook.
“Come on with me, angel,” she said. “I’ll need your help.”
“Where’s Ali?”
“She’s over at Sheila’s. Apparently, the boyfriend has gone to see family today.”
We walked down the hill, same as always, only this time we didn’t even have to venture onto the road before we saw him. He stood just beyond the gate, wearing denim shorts and a red-and-white striped polo shirt. He had two cardboard boxes beside him, sealed with duct tape, the words danger and flammable written in red letters across their sides.
“I can’t stay,” he said. “But I wanted you girls to have some fun.”
“Oh, Robert. Where did you get them?”
“Insubordinate teenagers are sometimes useful.” He smiled.
“What about the law?” I asked. “What if we get caught?”
“Laws, my little twerp, are for
“Yep. Everything that burns,” Gram confirmed.
“But why?” I wondered. “Why is God so angry?”
“He’s had to put up with a lot of sinful baloney over the ages, hon,” Gram said. “He’s had to see just about every rotten thing men have done since the beginning of time. I guess that’s enough to make anybody pretty darn mad.” She said it as if she was the mad one, grasping the steering wheel with her knotty hands.
“What about women?” Ali drawled, staring out the side window. “Haven’t they sinned, as well? Haven’t they lied and cheated?” I glimpsed my mother’s stony profile.
“Why, sure,” Gram said as we began the steep ascent up the driveway. “Women do their share of sinning. But it’s the men as are always starting the wars, isn’t it? It’s them that can’t seem to help slaughtering each other.” We pulled into the carport, made our way to the kitchen, past Nick working in the garage.
“How come the men never do any housework?” I asked as the four of us busied ourselves with preparations for the midday meal. “And how come they get to go fishing and play while we go to Sabbath School?”
“Ha! I don’t believe Poppy’s been in church since your mom and daddy were married,” said Gram, handing Ali the green linen place mats. “He believes he’s got a personal arrangement worked out with God. Isn’t that typical of a man?”
“Not all men are the same,” said Mom, pouring milk into short glasses. “Some are less obnoxious than others.”
“Yes, well, obnoxious or not, it’s our job to stand by them,” declared Gram. “Little Janie doesn’t stand by Peter, and if you ask me, that’s why their marriage is faltering.”
“What do you mean, faltering? ” asked Ali.
“I’ll be surprised if they make it a year,” announced Gram. “You mark my words.” She placed her hands on my mother’s shoulders, peering up into her face. “Poppy won’t take it well, if there’s a divorce. He won’t take kindly to it.”
My mother tried to move away, but Gram’s birdlike hold on her shoulders seemed to tighten. “I can see what’s going on, Elaine,” she said, over-enunciating. “It’s about young women not taking their God-given roles to heart. You hear me?”
“Please, Mom.” Elaine squirmed her off. “The onions are burning.”
July third came and went and still Dad and Poppy hadn’t come back. I overheard Mom talking on the phone the morning of the Fourth as Gram and I shucked corn on the front patio.
“Yes, well, I know it’s important to get a good catch, but—I know, Don. I know how he is, but you were due back yesterday.”
Pause.
“No, we’re fine. Just be home for the fireworks or—” She frowned. “Oh, right. I keep forgetting. Well, be back for dinner, then. It’s not like we’ve had a family vacation anyway. Not that we ever do.”
Pause.
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m still here.”
An hour or two later, while Gram was napping, my mother retrieved me from the hammock where I was working in my new sketchbook.
“Come on with me, angel,” she said. “I’ll need your help.”
“Where’s Ali?”
“She’s over at Sheila’s. Apparently, the boyfriend has gone to see family today.”
We walked down the hill, same as always, only this time we didn’t even have to venture onto the road before we saw him. He stood just beyond the gate, wearing denim shorts and a red-and-white striped polo shirt. He had two cardboard boxes beside him, sealed with duct tape, the words danger and flammable written in red letters across their sides.
“I can’t stay,” he said. “But I wanted you girls to have some fun.”
“Oh, Robert. Where did you get them?”
“Insubordinate teenagers are sometimes useful.” He smiled.
“What about the law?” I asked. “What if we get caught?”
“Laws, my little twerp, are for
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