every night, or picked up fast food. But she often brought home-baked cake-mix goodies to the Cottage Grove post office to share. On one occasion, she'd even come in on her day off to bring them a cake, and the children were with her. Everybody there had been taken with her kids. Now, they chipped in and sent a huge bunch of flowers to Diane at the hospital.
The Page Elementary School PTA mothers were in the midst of setting up a garage sale when they got the news. They felt the stab of horror first, and then grave concern about how their children would handle it. Cheryl Lynn's teacher, Sharon Walker, arranged for Ellie Smith, the school counselor, to come in for an hour and help the children spill out their feelings.
"They talked about feeling sad, and some of them shared experiences of losing grandparents or pets. They also expressed fear. I led them into a discussion about how a person lives on in our memories, even when they're taken from us."
In Christie's third grade class, teacher Beverly Lindley kept her students busy making get-well cards.
| The public was squarely behind Diane Downs, aware that she
^s going to need all the emotional support she could get in the
^eeks ahead. Total strangers sat down to write cards or letters to
"elp her through her grief.
"oug Welch rolled into his own driveway very late Friday eve^ng. He was very troubled at a thought that refused to go away.
"I sat down in my chair, over by the bookcases, and I Probably popped a beer. To tell you the truth, I was so tired I 70 ANN RULE
can't remember. My wife, Tamara, came over and sat down
beside me and she said, 'Well?' and I said 'Well, what?' She hadn't heard a word from me for over twenty-four hours and she kept asking 'Well?'
"You won't believe it."
"Well, tell me."
"I think she did it."
"Who?"
"Diane."
". . . No-o-o! She's their mother . . ."
"I know."
"No mother could ever do that to her children. I'm a mother and I know women better than you do."
"They'd have to pump drugs into you or me right and left to keep us sane if that happened to our kids," Welch mused. "Diane-she never shed one tear."
"I still don't want to believe that."
"Neither do I. Tracy and I are going to talk to her again in the morning. Maybe I'll feel different after."
Fred Hugi was back at his post between Christie and Danny early Saturday morning. Nobody bothered him; he had become a familiar fixture, this brooding guardian angel who watched over two children he barely knew.
Late in the morning, Hugi spotted a smiling middle-aged
couple hurry in and head toward Danny and Christie. Instantly, he was on his feet and blocking their way. He asked who they were.
Wes and Willadene Frederickson identified themselves: "We're their grandparents.''
The Fredericksons stayed at the children's bedsides for a short time. When they walked out, Hugi was puzzled by their demeanor. They seemed so happy, so cheerful. They noticed he was looking at the name tags on their shoulders and they explained merrily that they had come from a service club's "Fun Run."
To Hugi's amazement, Wes laughed. "We had to supervise," he explained. "You know how social obligations are--you can't break 'em." _ Fred Hugi stared at him, speechless.
SMALL SACRIFICES 71
^t 2:00 p.m. that Saturday, Doug Welch and Dick Tracy talked to niane in her hospital room. They had finally had a night's sleep and presumably so had Diane. Welch tried to keep an open mind, wondering if his gut feelings of the night before might not have
been the result of too little sleep.
Diane was ivory-pale, her heavily bandaged left arm resting on a pillow. She was willing to talk to them but was a little put off when she saw the tape recorder Tracy held. Finally, she sighed and said she guessed it wouldn't hurt to record their conversation. And so the trio sat, amid the thickening profusion of floral offerings, talking of sudden inexplicable death.
Tracy took the lead, his voice as lazy as an old cowpoke's. He
The Page Elementary School PTA mothers were in the midst of setting up a garage sale when they got the news. They felt the stab of horror first, and then grave concern about how their children would handle it. Cheryl Lynn's teacher, Sharon Walker, arranged for Ellie Smith, the school counselor, to come in for an hour and help the children spill out their feelings.
"They talked about feeling sad, and some of them shared experiences of losing grandparents or pets. They also expressed fear. I led them into a discussion about how a person lives on in our memories, even when they're taken from us."
In Christie's third grade class, teacher Beverly Lindley kept her students busy making get-well cards.
| The public was squarely behind Diane Downs, aware that she
^s going to need all the emotional support she could get in the
^eeks ahead. Total strangers sat down to write cards or letters to
"elp her through her grief.
"oug Welch rolled into his own driveway very late Friday eve^ng. He was very troubled at a thought that refused to go away.
"I sat down in my chair, over by the bookcases, and I Probably popped a beer. To tell you the truth, I was so tired I 70 ANN RULE
can't remember. My wife, Tamara, came over and sat down
beside me and she said, 'Well?' and I said 'Well, what?' She hadn't heard a word from me for over twenty-four hours and she kept asking 'Well?'
"You won't believe it."
"Well, tell me."
"I think she did it."
"Who?"
"Diane."
". . . No-o-o! She's their mother . . ."
"I know."
"No mother could ever do that to her children. I'm a mother and I know women better than you do."
"They'd have to pump drugs into you or me right and left to keep us sane if that happened to our kids," Welch mused. "Diane-she never shed one tear."
"I still don't want to believe that."
"Neither do I. Tracy and I are going to talk to her again in the morning. Maybe I'll feel different after."
Fred Hugi was back at his post between Christie and Danny early Saturday morning. Nobody bothered him; he had become a familiar fixture, this brooding guardian angel who watched over two children he barely knew.
Late in the morning, Hugi spotted a smiling middle-aged
couple hurry in and head toward Danny and Christie. Instantly, he was on his feet and blocking their way. He asked who they were.
Wes and Willadene Frederickson identified themselves: "We're their grandparents.''
The Fredericksons stayed at the children's bedsides for a short time. When they walked out, Hugi was puzzled by their demeanor. They seemed so happy, so cheerful. They noticed he was looking at the name tags on their shoulders and they explained merrily that they had come from a service club's "Fun Run."
To Hugi's amazement, Wes laughed. "We had to supervise," he explained. "You know how social obligations are--you can't break 'em." _ Fred Hugi stared at him, speechless.
SMALL SACRIFICES 71
^t 2:00 p.m. that Saturday, Doug Welch and Dick Tracy talked to niane in her hospital room. They had finally had a night's sleep and presumably so had Diane. Welch tried to keep an open mind, wondering if his gut feelings of the night before might not have
been the result of too little sleep.
Diane was ivory-pale, her heavily bandaged left arm resting on a pillow. She was willing to talk to them but was a little put off when she saw the tape recorder Tracy held. Finally, she sighed and said she guessed it wouldn't hurt to record their conversation. And so the trio sat, amid the thickening profusion of floral offerings, talking of sudden inexplicable death.
Tracy took the lead, his voice as lazy as an old cowpoke's. He
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