FOR_THE_HEART_OF_THE_JEWEL

ulie was six years old again. . . . It was the spring of 1936, the New Deal was in full bloom in the Rio Grande Valley. Along with parents, Edgar and Leota, she lived with her grandmother in a modest white house on Kimball Avenue in Raymondville, Texas. The house was clean, everything was clean and fresh, the yard was full of orange trees, the house was sparsely furnished with furniture of oak made by her Grandfather Max in the late 1800's. Grandfather Max had died while pushing his plow across the West Texas Panhandle in 1930, the dust had killed him, strangled the breath from his body, the dust and the land had reclaimed him as their own. Her Grandmother, Kerry Pearl, sold the farm on the Panhandle after Max's death. She chose to retire in the Rio Grande Valley near the Mexican border, where the dust never blew, where the rain fell softly each and every day, where all things grew in abundance, and the radio station in Weslaco carried baseball and The Rudy Vallee Variety Hour with Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. Kerry Pearl was an impressive woman, she was delicately boned for her height of almost six feet, her hair was silver and she kept it bound loosely in a bun secured by tortoise shell combs. Baseball was her passion, her prized possession was an autographed baseball signed by Waite Hoyt of the New York Yankees. Max had an old friend named Howard Bates who was an insurance salesman in New York City, he'd sent Kerry Pearl the autographed baseball back in 1927.

Julie's father, Edgar, had moved Julie and Leota to Kerry Pearl's home so he could take a job on the Willacy County roads project. The work days were long, the humidity made Edgar helplessly drowsy after lunch, and the mid-afternoon rains made the road work near impossible.

Kerry Pearl ran the household . . . Leota was not allowed in her kitchen. Julie took piano lessons from an eccentric elderly woman named Miss Demerick. Leota also played the piano. She spent her mornings trading songs with Julie. The two of them would sit together on the piano bench with the ivory keys before them. The laughter would ring in the melodies, the love between a mother and daughter would balance itself within the ease in which their hands could move across the ivory together with only an occasional discord.

Julie was dreaming of a Saturday afternoon in that spring of 1936. Edgar and Leota had taken her across the border to Mexico to go shopping. It was mid-afternoon and like clockwork the gentle rain was washing clean the crowded streets outside the market of Matamoros. Julie walked between her mother and father, holding on to each of their hands. Edgar spoke Spanish. Occasionally they would stop to examine some article on the tables in the market. In the dream the tables contained medical supplies, syringes, bedpans, and miscellaneous stainless steel instruments. Only one table had brightly colored merchandise of Mexican origin, it was on this table that Julie found a set of sterling silver hair combs decorated in turquoise. She begged Edgar to buy the combs for her Grandmother Kerry Pearl but Edgar said they were too expensive, that the vendor would not come down enough on his price. The market became dark, filled with voices speaking words she could not understand. Her mother and father let go of her hands and she could not find them in the dark. She ran into the light of the rain on the sidewalks outside the market where she saw the Mexican children running barefoot in the streets with no sign of adult supervision, their feet splashed with no sound in puddles of filth in the gutters.

"Julie, I've put the water on for some coffee," Leota said. "The movers will be here any minute now."

The rain was still falling. There was silence in the house on Kimball Avenue. Kerry Pearl's radio was packed in a crate awaiting its move to Austin. Julie woke from her nap with the strange feeling that she was still within the dream. This was not 1936, it was 1971. She was no longer six years old, that innocence was long forgotten, it lingered in the shadow of the dream itself searching for the hands of her mother and father somewhere in the streets of Mexico.

Kerry Pearl had broken her hip in a fall last autumn. Julie and Leota had thought it best that she be moved to Austin as her health had gotten steadily worse since the accident. Kerry Pearl was ninety-two years old . . . Julie could hardly believe that she had lived that many years. Kerry Pearl had never been sick a day in her life, she had never complained, she had never been dependent on anyone. She had always been her own safe harbor.

Julie swung her legs over the edge of the day bed and headed towards the kitchen where she could hear Leota preparing the coffee. The cabinets were bare. The bookshelves were empty. The house was as it had been on the day Kerry Pearl had moved here.

"Mother, did you find those silver hair combs that I gave to Kerry Pearl when you were packing her personal things?" Julie asked.

"They were still in the box, Julie . . . black as coal with tarnish. You know, it seems like Mama wore those combs when she married Howard Bates, Lord, but that was such a sad day in my life that I can't truly remember." Leota answered as the tea kettle began to whistle and the sun sent its first afternoon rays through the kitchen window.

"I had an awful dream a while ago . . . I can't tell you how happy I'll be to get back to Austin. This house just isn't right without Kerry Pearl here. I feel as though we're invading her privacy by packing her things, as though she doesn't want her memories moved from this house. Is there any sugar around for this coffee?" Julie asked.

Leota answered, "No, ma'am . . . 'fraid you're gonna have to drink it black this time. The sugar had been here so long that I thought it best to throw it out. I was afraid it might make us sick. . . . I know exactly how you feel about this house. I've half expected Mama to step in here at any minute and demand that I get the heck out of her kitchen . . . in all my years, this is the first time I have ever worked in my mother's kitchen. If you were still planning to take some of Mama's aloe-vera plants back to Austin then you'd best get a move-on. Her gardening tools are locked in the shed out back . . . and Julie, don't worry too much about this move for your grandmother, we both know it is for the best."

Julie took her cup of coffee with her to the backyard. The orange trees were just beginning to blossom and their scent was intoxicating. In one section of what had once been Kerry Pearl's garden there were several large aloe-vera plants with hundreds of small plants surrounding them. Julie went to the shed to find the garden tools and some empty containers.

As she dug the plants up, one by one, in the garden, she thought of her grandmother. Julie was forty-two . . . a long distance from the image of Kerry Pearl. When you are a young woman of forty-two, it is hard to feature yourself as ever being old, it is hard to picture the youth of someone who is now ninety-two. It is as though they were never young, they were never your age, they were never within your reach of understanding.

Julie laughed out loud there in the garden when remembering what her mother had just said in the kitchen about how sad a day it had been for her when Kerry Pearl had married Howard Bates. She laughed so hard that Leota stuck her head out the screen door and yelled . . .

"Just what the hell's going on out here?"

"It's nothing, Mother . . . really I'm fine," Julie answered still snickering under her breath.

"Well, just hurry yourself up out there. Those movers are not a-gonna wait around for the yard work to be finished." Leota called out to Julie as the screen door slammed behind her.

Kerry Pearl had married Howard Bates in 1956 at the tender age of seventy-seven to Howard's seventy-two. The courtship had begun in 1948. Howard had written to Kerry Pearl asking if she had a spare room she might be interested in renting out during the winter as he was retiring from his insurance business and would like to escape the cold during the winter months. Kerry Pearl had written him back to accept his offer.

Every winter after that Howard had arrived sometime in November to remain in the warmth of Raymondville until the last day of April when he would pack up and move back to his summer home in upstate New York.

Howard Bates was a small man, very trim, and extremely proper. He had always carried a true affection for Kerry Pearl, even when Max was still alive. Kerry Pearl and Howard were quite the pair when observed out walking together . . . this tall slender woman with her mountain of silver hair and this short thin man with this white handle-bar mustache. On Sunday mornings during those winters they would stroll hand in hand down Kimball Avenue to Gem Street where they would attend Mass at Saint Mary's. The winters went on this way for several years, with the spare room remaining empty after that first winter. Kerry Pearl and Howard shared more together in those tropical winters in Raymondville than any family member would ever understand. They wrote poetry to each other during the summer and fall when they were separated. Howard would write endless letters to Kerry Pearl about the baseball season. They would argue back and forth through the mail about the Dodgers and the Yankees and they would long for the end of the World Series and the first of November. Each winter Howard would ask Kerry Pearl to marry him and each winter Kerry Pearl would decline the offer for fear that her children would not approve. Leota had somehow gotten wind of the fact that the relationship between her mother and Howard could no longer be classified as non-prurient . . . Kerry Pearl figured Leota had gotten wind of this by snooping into her box of letters from Howard on one of her visits. Leota persisted in nagging Kerry Pearl about Howard for two years . . . the nagging itself finally resulted in provoking Kerry Pearl into accepting Howard's proposal. Leota had been beside herself with grief over this choice on the day of the wedding. It was a simple ceremony at Saint Mary's with only Leota and her sisters, Cora and Maggie, attending as witnesses. Father Ellis had smiled approvingly at the couple as they exchanged vows . . . after all, Howard and Kerry Pearl were in love, they were true to their faith in God, and there would be no problem with this couple breaking their vow of 'til death do us part' . . . that was one promise they would probably not have time to reconsider.

The movers came knocking at the front door just as Leota was packing the last of the china. Leota supervised the hauling of boxes and furniture while feeling very insecure about giving orders to anyone in her mother's house.

When the house was cleared of all its contents, Leota stood at the kitchen sink staring outside at nothing in particular through the kitchen window. The years her mother had lived in this house remained a mystery to Leota. It was as if this house was brand new, as though it were just yesterday that her mother had moved here. All around her were the markings of her mother's day to day existence. The linoleum floor was worn beneath her feet, the porcelain was chipped in the sink, the clothes lines dipped towards the center, and the garden, though now overgrown, was meticulously enclosed within a white picket fence. This was her mother's life without her . . . this was her mother's own identity, separate from the life of Leota, separate from being her mother. It was difficult for Leota to ponder what her mother's life had been here, it was impossible for Leota to understand that her mother had been many things to many people in her lifetime besides just being her mother.

They had shared so much of their lives, each to her own discretion . . . those lines of discretion becoming the majority of their relationship. Leota felt as though she was this person who Kerry Pearl had created, that Kerry Pearl had molded her character with great care; with the love of a mother, with the grace of a stranger . . . Kerry Pearl now existed to Leota as that stranger and in being Kerry Pearl's own creation there could be no mystery to Leota in her mother's eyes. It made no difference that the world had flown by between them nor that their paths no longer crossed common ground. Leota knew nothing of her mother's thoughts, it was only the heart of her mother which she could recall with clarity.

Leota locked the house behind her. Julie was waiting in the car impatiently tapping the steering wheel with her thumb nails. Leota stopped to straighten the 'For Sale' sign in the yard before getting into the car with Julie. Her eyes traced every detail of her mother's home in just that fraction of a second between the opening of the car door and sliding into the front seat. The history of her mother's life within those walls would now be lost forever within Leota's own curiosity.

It would be an eight hour drive to Austin from Raymondville, Julie and Leota spent the major part of the trip trading stories about Kerry Pearl. Leota commented several times during the trip that there was a lot more trust between she and Julie then she'd ever had with Kerry Pearl. Leota specified that Kerry Pearl had never allowed her to get too close and that she was so happy that she and Julie could openly discuss just about anything under the sun. Julie, on the other hand, felt it odd that her mother felt exactly the same way about Kerry Pearl as she felt about Leota . . . Julie, understandably, kept these opposing thoughts to herself. . . .

Julie had named her youngest daughter after Kerry Pearl and her husband, Jeff's, mother, Ruth. She spent most of her academic time getting involved in political troubles on campus while claiming to be studying journalism. She dabbled at being a folk singer aside from attending college but couldn't really be pinned down to having any particular goals in mind for her future. Julie secretly admired this in her daughter as she herself had had a two year old daughter by the time she was Kerry's age and her life and been planned with no drama before her youth had even begun to explore itself. Kerry was irresponsible with just about everything in her life with the one exception of visiting her great-grandmother every day. The visits only lasted an hour but none the less they were the highlight of Kerry Pearl's days. Some days they played checkers, on other days they would discuss the war in Vietnam and Kerry's involvement with the anti-war movement. Kerry Pearl explained to Kerry that she had had the very same sentiments during World War I. Not only did the young Kerry and her great-grandmother share the same name but they were very much alike in nature. Both were idealists, both placed matters of the heart far above common sense on their lists of priorities. It was this common link between them that had caused Kerry Pearl to choose young Kerry to read her weekly letters from Howard Bates to her, and young Kerry in turn would write letters dictated to her by Kerry Pearl back to Howard. Kerry Pearl's eyesight was becoming so poor these days that she could not read anymore without giving herself a headache, and her hands, once graceful with long tapered fingers, were now crippled with arthritis.

On this particular day, Kerry sat in the waiting area of the nursing home reading the latest letter from Howard. She always read the letters first before reading them to her great- grandmother, as sometimes she had to study Howard's handwriting closely to be able to make out the words . . .

My Beautiful Pearl,

It was so nice to receive your letter. Please tell young Kerry that I find it so endearing that she takes time out of her busy schedule to keep our correspondence intact. I am still secure in my belief that I will get to meet her someday.

Did they deliver the television to you? I ordered it last Tuesday. I hope that it is the model you had in mind. Now you won't have to argue with your roommate over which channels to watch. I hope you will think of me when you are watching the baseball games this spring.

I am feeling much better, thank you. Those kidney stones were the darndest thing I've ever been through. I have asked my doctor about the possibility of me moving to Austin soon. He has told me that though I am in great health for an eighty-seven year old man, I still need some time to recover from this kidney thing.

I am so lonely here. We missed our winter this year. There is still snow on the ground here in Saratoga Springs. It has been a long hard winter and I do not like this place. The nurses seldom stop to chat and there is no television in my room here.

I don't know what to advise you on this problem with Leota and Cora. If they are so opposed to my coming to live in the same nursing home with you in Austin now, then I doubt they are going to change their minds in the future. You must understand that I don't intentionally mean to offend you in saying this, but I think those two ladies are full of horse cookies! (Tell young Kerry that I've asked her to cover her ears while she's reading this.) Leota has never accepted the fact that you and I are husband and wife and it's just darned well time that she did so. As for Cora, well you'd think with that diddle-brained husband of hers to look after that she'd have very little time to pry into your affairs. We must simply forge ahead with our lives and stop fretting over these inconsequential matters. There is nothing for me here in the North, I don't know why I've kept up this silly ritual of returning here for all these years. All those summers that I spent here were a waste of time, they were a waste of precious time. I should have been there with you when you fell. I am now more determined than ever that we shall be reunited again.

I will await your reply in loving anticipation. Do not fear, my sweetest, for though we are far apart, you are always in my thoughts. We must never give up hope for tomorrow. I will continue to pray for your recovery.

Your faithful and devoted husband,
Howard

Kerry folded the letter neatly and placed it back in the envelope. She smiled to herself as she walked down the hall to Kerry Pearl's room, her loafers tapping out a happy click on the tile floor as she entered the room. She knew full well that this letter was exactly what Kerry Pearl had needed for a long time, Howard's letter would be certain to cheer her up. Kerry Pearl had been waiting for years for Howard to take a stand on her daughters' conspiracy against them. The thought of having Howard here beside her would give her something to live for, even if it was just a wild dream with very little chance of becoming a reality.

Kerry entered her great-grandmother's room only to find it engulfed in darkness. The curtains were drawn tight and she could hear the sound of Kerry Pearl sobbing softly in the shadows. Kerry located a small lamp on a bed table next to the door. She stood still just long enough for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The bed next to the lamp was empty. Normally Kerry Pearl's roommate, Mrs. Garcia, occupied that space. The linens had been stripped from the bed leaving the bare mattress to stare back at Kerry. Kerry Pearl's bed was on the other side of the room, she had requested that her bed be moved to its present location so she and Mrs. Garcia could be facing each other. The two women had become very close during the six weeks they'd been roommates. Young Kerry approached her great- grandmother's bedside with reserve.

Kerry Pearl extended her hand to her great-granddaughter. Young Kerry was shocked at what she saw surrounding her. Her great-grandmother had not had her hair combed, her water pitcher was empty, the remote control for the television was clear across the room on Mrs. Garcia's nightstand, and there was a strange smell in the room which Kerry could not quite place in origin.

"Pearlie, why is this room so dark?" asked Kerry.

"It's been an awful day Kerry, I think they've forgotten that I'm here. I'm so thirsty and they've hidden my glasses from me. I've pushed on that button for the nurse all day but no one ever comes. No one ever comes. Mrs. Garcia passed on late last night. Please Kerry, dear, would you mind getting me some water?" Kerry Pearl spoke in a very soft voice, she was too weak to speak any louder than a whisper.

As Kerry reached for the water pitcher she noticed that the floor beneath her feet was wet as well as the side of the mattress.

"I'll be right back, Pearlie, and don't worry we'll get you all fixed up here in a minute. Have you eaten today?" Kerry asked.

"No," said Kerry Pearl, "don't leave me here alone again, Kerry."

Kerry could hear her great-grandmother begin sobbing again as she left the room and she wished she'd at least opened the curtains before she'd left.

When Kerry reached the glass-enclosed nurse's station she tapped hard on the window to get the nurse's attention inside. She recognized this particular nurse on duty as one who had filled in a few weeks ago when the regular day nurse was ill. The nurse was a large woman at least twice Kerry's weight, she sported a red beehive hairdo, bright orange lipstick, and black eyebrows drawn on with eyebrow pencil. The woman was talking on the phone and upon hearing Kerry's knock at the window she cradled the phone between her shoulder and doubled chin in order to free her hands to slide the window open.

She said, "I'll be with 'ya in just a second, hon." She smacked her gum at Kerry and slid the window shut.

Kerry sat down in a chair facing the nurse's station to wait. There was a large round clock on the wall inside the station and she watched it intently as the hands clicked the minutes by. The nurse looked up occasionally from her phone conversation to smile at Kerry, but as the minutes passed and Kerry's expression melted into rage, the woman turned her back to the window completely.

Kerry lost her patience when ten minutes had passed. She went back to the window, and without knocking this time, opened the sliding glass, reached inside and spun the nurse around to face her. The nurse was so flabbergasted at having this skinny little hippie girl with wire rimmed glasses yank her around that Kerry had a firm grip on the lapels of her nurse's uniform before she could regain her senses. . . .

"You have a patient in room 112 who has not eaten today, it is now four o'clock in the afternoon. Her drapes are drawn, her water pitcher is empty, she can't walk and the controls to her television are way across the room. She has been paging this nurse's station for help all day long . . . not only that but her catheter has come loose and she is drowning in her own urine. Now, you get off this stupid phone and off your dead ass and go help her!" Kerry hissed.

"Now, there's no need to be so nasty, sweetie," said the nurse. . . .

Julie and Leota entered the lobby area at that moment, Leota couldn't help but notice the wrestling match taking place at the nurse's station but it was Julie who realized that half that squabble involved her daughter, Kerry. Leota had a tendency to mind her own business and was going to quietly walk past this scene pretending not to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Julie screamed, "Kerry, what in heaven's name are you doing?"

Kerry did not respond to her mother's voice but instead continued shaking this stocky nurse around and maintained a firm grip on the woman's nurse's uniform. The nurse still grasped the phone in her hand and was threatening to knock Kerry in the head with the receiver. Julie then grabbed Kerry by the arm and began to tug with all her strength away from the nurse's station but Kerry had secured such a firm grip on the nurse's uniform that Julie only succeeded in aiding Kerry's attempt to pull the nurse through the window. Leota had managed to stay a safe distance away from the dilemma at hand. Leota, now secure in the belief that her strategy would be successful, calmly approached the trio. Leota was, by far, the smallest member of the brawl and with great courage she reached up between Julie and Kerry to remove the wire rimmed glasses from Kerry's face. Having safely stored the glasses into her handbag, she again reached up between the mother and daughter and politely, quite deliberately, delivered one sharp slap across Kerry's face. The act in itself rendered the entangled three women motionless while Leota stepped back from the scene and clutched her handbag tightly to her breasts.

"Knock if off, Kerry! Let's sit down and talk about this like civilized folks. Let go of that woman this instant!" said Leota who was still quite calm considering the circumstances.

Kerry released her hold on the nurse while Julie in turn let go of Kerry's arm. The husky nurse, who hadn't bargained for anything like this occurring today, then slammed the window shut to the nurse's station, resumed her conversation with her boyfriend who was on the other end of the phone line, and glared at Julie and Kerry through the glass hoping above all else that this third woman would talk some sense into this nut case hippie kid.

Leota, who had tired of the whole scene, took off down the hall to see her mother. . . .

"If ya'll will excuse me, I'm gonna go on down to visit Mama," Leota called back over her shoulder.

Within five minutes Leota came bounding back down the hall to the nurse's station nearly colliding head on with the beehived nurse. Julie had gotten the situation in hand, and as it turned out the nurse hadn't known that Kerry Pearl was in her room. When Mrs. Garcia had passed on, the night crew had shuffled the records around so that the day staff thought that room unoccupied.

Within the hour, Kerry Pearl was sitting up in bed drinking iced tea and listening to young Kerry read Howard's letter to her. She held the remote control to her new television in her hand and annoyingly flipped the channels back and forth while Kerry was trying to read her the letter.

"Pearlie, just how am I supposed to read this letter to you if you won't stop fiddling with the T.V.?" Kerry asked.

"I'm just afraid that your Grandmother Leota, might be listening outside the door . . . she's a known eavesdropper from way back. Now, don't get me wrong, Kerry, I do love her dearly but when it comes to Howard, your Grandmother Leota's a fanatic," Kerry Pearl replied.

"Well, Pearlie, I have to go soon, I promised Raleigh that I'd meet him for dinner so would you stop long enough for me to finish this letter . . . if you don't then it's gonna have to be continued until tomorrow," Kerry said.

"Oh, all right, Kerry, but if Leota comes in here fuming about Howard then I'm gonna know that she was listening outside and I'm gonna hold you personally responsible for the mental anguish she inflicts upon me," Kerry Pearl said as she placed the remote control on the nightstand.

Kerry finished reading the letter from Howard to Kerry Pearl. She placed it under Kerry Pearl's pillow before leaving to meet her brother Raleigh. Raleigh was twenty-two. He'd just recently left his wife and six month old baby. He had called Kerry last night sounding a bit desperate for someone to talk to. It wasn't normal for Raleigh to come to Kerry with a problem but with their mother out of town and not due back till late that night, Kerry figured she'd been the last resort. Their sister, Ethel, still lived in town with her husband, Rodney, but talking to Ethel was somewhat similar to talking to one of those gameshow hosts on T.V. . . . her solution was always behind a closed door and nine times out of ten involved changing the subject around to some problem of hers.

Raleigh sat at a window booth in the Frisco Cafe waiting for his sister to arrive. It was just beginning to get dark outside. He studied the cars passing by, turning on their headlights, changing lanes, and stopping at red lights. It was a very ordinary hometown street, so unquestionably familiar. He had flown down this street hundreds of times as a child on his bicycle, pretending to be a great motorcycle rider . . . pretending to be anything but plain old Raleigh Foster. Raleigh was a big man, almost six four, with a large frame. Though he had never been overweight he had always been clumsy and he had spent the majority of his life being teased for his awkwardness. It seemed to him that no one took his ambitions or his dreams seriously. He was simply 'good old Raleigh' to everyone . . . that is everyone but his sister, Kerry. He felt that Kerry never took anyone for granted. She looked at each person separately and judged them accordingly. She was, in general, a trusting sort of person, yet she was quick to draw conclusions from the mistakes of others. She made her own mistakes often enough, she had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and she could certainly bring out the worst in those around her. Raleigh had been witness to several mistakes his sister, Kerry, had made during their lives. As a child, her reluctance to walk away from trouble had been a constant nuisance to him as he had always been obligated to rescue her from turmoil. Kerry was up front, she was wide open to the world yet she was a mystery in herself because she never closed her heart . . . the pain of youthful battle went inside her and it never came out again. That was the mystery of Kerry to Raleigh . . . the thought that all of their youth rested peacefully within her memories. His sister, Ethel, though not as widely known for her mistakes, had settled into her adult years with quite a malevolent disposition.

Raleigh was leaving Austin. His life here had become too black and white to hold his interests. He thought of himself as being hopelessly average with no special gifts to offer the world. His sisters each held their unique qualities.

Ethel had once been Homecoming Queen, a beauty to behold, and though she was now overweight and a tad bitter about being just a housewife, she still had her social status. Ethel had married well, her husband, Rodney, came from a very wealthy family in Houston. Ethel had never worked a day in her life, she had gone straight from one year of college to becoming the wife of Rodney Preston. She was now the mother of two very beautiful, extremely spoiled daughters who were very much like their mother. Ethel was also an alcoholic, which was a fact that Raleigh was unaware of . . . it was a well kept secret within the Preston household. Like Raleigh, Ethel spent her days and nights wishing she had been something other than the simple day to day person she had become. She drank away the laughter of her lovely children, she had ceased to view them as treasures and in turn they no longer respected her as a mother. Still, to Raleigh, her home in the prestigious Northwest Hills of Austin and her name in the gossip columns left him feeling like a failure. Ethel longed for her vibrant youth, she ached for the excitement of the back seat of a 1957 Chevrolet, and the anguished eyes of the suitors she had shunned haunted her dreams. She was nothing within herself, answerable to everyone, trusted by no one.

Kerry was her sister's opposite. Raleigh pictured her as having the potential to succeed in many things. He considered her to be talented in many things. Kerry herself got in the way of her own talents as she wasn't yet capable of concentrating on any one thing long enough to make a go of it, but she would . . . Raleigh knew she would. Somewhere down the line Kerry would hit the jackpot because she was different . . . she had hope for humanity and that hope came through on the surface as a spark in her hazel eyes. Kerry was not as pretty as her sister had been, yet she had her own unique style which gave her an occasional hint of beauty. She was tall with a fragile appearance, she had long chestnut brown hair which was soft and fine, most often left uncurled and stringy. She had lovely hands . . . Raleigh thought her hands were like porcelain, in fact she herself had the image of being a porcelain doll from some foreign land. She carried a pristine quality about her that did not quite fit in with the American ideal. She considered herself as mediocre which was why she became so easily bored with her own projects. Raleigh felt that Kerry would never have allowed herself to be trapped within this lifestyle he had adopted, not Kerry, she was never one to be average. But, Kerry would understand. She would look into his eyes and say, "Raleigh, it's okay if you desert your wife and child . . . time will take care of everything. You go on out there and find yourself." Kerry's understanding was all he wanted at this moment in time . . . just a smile on his little sister's face would ease all guilt.

Kerry was late to the Frisco. The darkness became Raleigh's own reflection in the window before him, the streets of a hometown no longer mingled with the image of his face, they were no longer related to each other. They were both now the essence of an unknown quantity. Raleigh was the gentle soul, believing there to be more than this city, more than his family . . . believing that everyone had more than he would ever hold. He was the last of the true believers, he held the wealth of a heart to lend. It was Raleigh who was the special one of the three children. He would search the world for that something out there that would set his heart on end and engulf him with mystery, for this city held no secrets. This was the mecca for the idealist. This city of Austin had buried itself with the illusion of being the center of a lifestyle Americana, it had closed its own doors to growth with this conceit. It offered nothing more than any other middle class American ghetto, built and protected by individuals who were either too lazy or too afraid to venture from its boundaries.

"Raleigh, I'm sorry I'm a little late. Pearlie had some trouble this afternoon," Kerry said as she slid into the booth.

"That's alright. It was kind of nice just sitting here thinking for a while. What's up with Pearlie?"

"Well, it's a long story. I'm not sure you're up for hearing all about it, it's all taken care of now anyway. . . . Mom and Leo are back from the Valley. You know, I told you a few weeks ago that I'd been helping Pearlie with her letters to Howard . . . well, it seems that Howard really is intending to move down here. Pearlie got a letter from him today. He's such a romantic. Leo's not buying the whole thing, she can't stand the fact that her mother married Howard. I feel so sorry for Pearlie. She really does love Howard. Sure has made things difficult between Leo and me . . . we've always been so close and now it's so hard for me to understand her. I don't think it's fair that I should have to see my grandmother's bad side, I always thought Leo was just perfect. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Don't you think so?"

Raleigh opened his menu to study the dinner specials.

"I guess it's ridiculous, Kerry. To tell you the truth, I hadn't really thought about it too much. Grandmother Leota has always been very strong willed. I guess she feels like Pearlie should've lived her life as a widow just like she has. I know you've always placed Grandmother Leota above having faults but you have to realize that she's just as human as the rest of us mortals. She graduated from a different era," Raleigh said.

"Raleigh, I know you didn't call me just to have dinner . . . I don't want to burden you with all the stuff about grandmothers. What's on your mind?" Kerry asked.

The waitress approached their table to take their orders.

"I'm leaving here, Kerry . . . I'll have a cheeseburger/no onions, a side order of fries, and a large Coke," Raleigh said.

The waitress impatiently tapped her order pad with her pencil waiting for Kerry to order. . . .

"Uh, I'll have a grilled cheese with pickles and small iced tea, please," Kerry said.

"Where will you go, Raleigh? What about Missy and the baby? Have you told them yet? Gee, I think it's great that you're gonna get out of this town but I don't understand why," Kerry said.

Kerry had visions of her gentle brother, Raleigh, traveling incognito across the country. Raleigh the patient one out gazing at America. Raleigh was the heart of the Foster family in Kerry's eyes . . . he was such a good guy. . . .

"Well, I can't really say where I'll be going . . . I leave for Fort Polk, Louisiana in three weeks for basic training . . . I joined the Army, Kerry," Raleigh replied.

"Are you crazy? Tell me you didn't do this, tell me you're only joking! I won't believe you did this . . . they'll send your ass straight to Vietnam. How in the hell could you do this?" Kerry said in disbelief.

Raleigh reached across the table with his huge clumsy hands to calm his sister. Kerry was screaming at him in this public place, everyone in the restaurant began to stare. Kerry had been the last person he would've expected to react this way. He took her small oval face between his hands and gently brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"It's alright, Kerry. It's what I wanted to do . . . it was my only alternative to insanity. My old friend Buster joined at the same time that I did. We're both going to Fort Polk. It won't be so bad. Maybe they won't send me to Vietnam. After all, they could send me to Germany or Korea. Please try to understand . . . I just couldn't take it around here anymore. Missy calls to hassle me two or three times a day at work and her dad, Mr. Asshole Krandel even came by the shop threatening me last week. That baby doesn't even know who I am yet . . . probably never will if Missy gets her way. You know, that Missy's already been out on a couple of dates with some jerk who's in the Coast Guard. She says she's in love with this guy. Can you believe that crap?" Raleigh asked.

"What I can't believe is that you married that dumb-ass cheerleader in the first place. She's been jerking you around on a string since junior high and when she couldn't get you to marry her honestly, she got pregnant so you'd have to. I'll never forgive her for what she's done to you. You were always so afraid of violence, you've always been so sensitive. How will you survive in a place like Vietnam if they send you there? Don't you watch the news, Raleigh? Even war heroes are rallying against the war. I know you're mad at the world, you're angry with this person who you used to love and you feel that things'll never change for you but it isn't going to be better in the Army . . . it won't be Missy shooting back at you from the other side of a rice field, Raleigh, it'll be some guy just like you, just as innocent as you with a family of his own, and there you'll be, trying to kill each other. Remember how afraid you used to be of war . . . remember when we were children during the Cuban Missile Crisis . . . you were so afraid, you thought the world was coming to an end. You made us hide in a closet because you were so sure the big bomb was coming . . . 'duck and cover, duck and cover' . . . you were so afraid of war. You just can't do this Raleigh . . . I'll fix it . . . I've got some friends at the University who can help you get to Canada. I'm not going to let you go get your ass shot off or your mind blown out," Kerry pleaded.

"No, Kerry, I'm not going to Canada. I've made a commitment to my country and I'm going to stick by it. Jesus, look at that wimp, Rodney. Do you want me to be like him? I gotta do this for myself . . . I know it's kinda crazy . . . the only time I've ever been away from home was to go to camp. I think I want to be a paratrooper. I've always wanted to fly free like that."

"Raleigh, I hate to tell you this, but they'll never let you in the paratroopers. You've broken both ankles at least twice playing football in high school. You're always limping around with an ace bandage on one or the other ankle and that just won't cut it in the paratroopers. Besides, you'd be a sitting duck flying around with no protection but a nylon parachute. I still say that we gotta find some way to get you out of this. If you ask me I'd say this was just a damn stupid thing to do," Kerry said.

"Well, nobody asked you what you thought about it . . . this time I'm simply telling you what's gonna be. Not everybody thinks like you, Kerry. Dad's been trying to get that through your thick skull for years. We've all got to live our own lives. I don't know what I expected to hear from you . . . maybe just that I'm not crazy . . . maybe just that you'd accept me as I am . . . maybe just that you'd think of me while I'm gone and look in now and then on Missy and the baby," Raleigh said as the last of his cheeseburger disappeared off of his plate. "I think I'll order another burger . . . you want somethin'?" Raleigh asked with his mouth full.

"No, I don't think so but by all means go right ahead," Kerry said. Her eyes followed Raleigh's eyes; all those questions unanswered.

By the time Raleigh's second order arrived at the table, he and Kerry had settled their differences. Conversation had changed to include talk of the end of the spring semester for Kerry and the proposed moving of Howard to Austin. Kerry's boyfriend, Fletcher, attended school at North Texas State in Denton. Fletcher would be home for the summer . . . Raleigh would be gone by then.

"Say, uh, Kerry, aren't you going to eat that sandwich? I'll take it if you don't want it," Raleigh said.

"Good grief, Raleigh, you've already had two burgers, an order of french fries, and a half a bottle of ketchup. What about those little children in India who have no food at all? Don't you feel just a little bit guilty?" Kerry teased.

"Alright, I'm guilty, I'm guilty of just about anything you want me to be guilty of, except wasting grilled cheese sandwiches . . . now do you want that thing or not?" Raleigh asked.

Kerry pushed the half eaten sandwich over to Raleigh. Throughout their childhood Raleigh had been known as a human garbage disposal for left-overs. There were few foods in his long list of culinary delights which he could not tolerate, corn being one item, onions another, and pickles being last but not least.

"Jesus Christ, Kerry, ya had 'em put pickles on this thing. Who ever heard of putting pickles on grilled cheese sandwiches?" Raleigh winced.

"Beggars can't be choosers . . . if ya don't like 'em then take the damn things off," Kerry giggled.

"It was a trap, these pickles, you're trying to get back at me for twenty years of aggravation. Well, it's not gonna work . . . I'm gonna eat it anyway. When we were kids I used to think that you always wanted those mayonnaise sandwiches at Leo's just so you wouldn't have to worry about me taking it away from you. Do you remember those times, Kerry . . . all those summer days we spent loitering at her house? You were top dog over at her place . . . you and Fletcher and that ugly little rooster, Jangles," Raleigh said as the waitress cleared the table.

"Oh, yes, I remember. I have a heart full of memories . . . some of them I'd like to forget. I sometimes dream of a time when childhood would become only a handful of memories; that the fear and the wanderlust of youth would be only the dream and not the reality. You see, Raleigh, I don't find our childhood very pleasant to remember . . . the memories hurt me and the mistakes I've made lurk within the shadows of each new decision and each new emotion. We were rotten children, you and I. Fortunately for Ethel, she was never a child . . . she will never regret or repent. Whatever problems she may have now can certainly not be blamed on any childhood trauma . . . considering that she never truly had a childhood . . . she is unaccountable . . . you are I are guilty," Kerry sighed.

"Aw, you're always so serious, Kerry. You can't say that Ethel never had a childhood . . . you're just a lot younger than she is and you weren't around during her rotten years. You know, when you were first brought home from the hospital Ethel thought you were a new doll for her. She grabbed you by the hem of your nightgown, drug you off of the couch and halfway across the living room floor before Dad could get to her. She thought you were the greatest gift in the world," Raleigh said.

"I have heard that story many times, Raleigh, and it has been recently brought to my attention by Ethel herself that her motive for dragging me off the couch was to drown me in the bathtub before anyone could get the chance to become attached to me. In case you don't recall, it has been stated in the story that the bathtub had already been mysteriously filled with water before Ethel approached the couch. To this day, Ethel swears that the whole family would have been much happier if she'd been allowed to terminate my existence."

"Well, as long as we're on the subject of Ethel. . . . Why don't we go barge in on her? It's only eight-thirty . . . the girls'll still be up. I want to tell Rodney that I've joined the Army," Raleigh said.

"I think I'll pass on that one, Raleigh. I mean, you know, Ethel'll be sitting around sippin' her vodka and orange juice and Rodney'll be nagging her not to have anymore. The girls will be screaming around the house like a couple of fire engines and to tell the truth, listening to Ethel's voice is not my idea of a good time. Rodney's not such a bad guy to visit but the noise level around their house is enough to deafen the ears of Mick Jagger . . . 'know what I mean, Raleigh?" Kerry said with a giggle.

"Yeah, I guess so. Ethel can sometimes be a bit abrasive. I think I'll head on over there anyway, maybe Rodney'll have some pot. I could use a joint or two to settle these burgers down and cut the taste of those pickles," Raleigh said as he picked up the check.

"Raleigh, I wish you hadn't done this . . . I wish you hadn't been so desperate inside that you decided your only way out was to go fight a war," Kerry said.

Raleigh shuffled his toothpick to the side of his mouth and replied, "It's just as well that I've joined up, Kerry . . . chances are I might have gotten drafted anyway."

In the Frisco parking lot Raleigh would lean against his Chevrolet Nova while Kerry tied a string around the cuff of her bell bottom jeans so they wouldn't get tangled in the spokes of her bicycle. It was a clear spring night with the stars just beginning to come out in the sky. They would never be this close again, for though Raleigh would come to understand all too well his sister's anger over his joining the Army in the months ahead, he would also cease to understand that he was loved. There would be this night and one other which would haunt his days and nights in Vietnam. He would return home capable of understanding the discontent of those around him yet incapable and unwilling to be understood himself.

Kerry would drift from reality herself as her desires to become a journalist would gradually erase the memories of an unhappy childhood with distant observation. The warmth of memories with her brother would always end with this spring night, for up until this night she had innocently collected these images for future reference. . . . In the future she would consciously observe all emotion in search of the perfect line and would therefore cloud their purity. There would never be words within her which could reconstruct this last farewell to the shared secrets between a brother and a sister. The communication between them, so much of it silent and so taken for granted, would slip away from their reach. Raleigh would become a silent man.

The porch light was still on at Ethel and Rodney's. Raleigh rang the door bell and waited for the Prestons to respond. Rodney answered the door . . . Raleigh could smell a hint of dinner as the door swung open . . . fried chicken, he thought . . . yep, must've been fried chicken.

"Well, Raleigh, what a nice surprise. How's it goin'?" Rodney asked.

"Who is it Rodney?" Ethel called out.

Rodney clasped Raleigh by the shoulder and nudged him back out on the porch, gently closing the front door behind them.

"Gee, it sure is good to see you, Raleigh. We haven't seen much of you lately. Unfortunately, Ethel's not feeling too good this evening . . . maybe it would've been better if you'd called before you drove all the way out here," Rodney said.

Rodney was not a large man, if fact, Raleigh called him "slim pockets" behind his back. He wasn't exactly a short fellow, delicate was more accurate. He was quite handsome with dark hair and angular features. He had that sort of thousand dollar smile which could turn the ladies' heads. He did so frequently. . . .

"What's she got . . . the flu or somethin'?" Raleigh asked.

"No, it's not exactly the flu. Don't rightly know what it is, but it might be contagious," Rodney said.

"Hey, ya know, Ethel's been sick an awful lot lately. Maybe she ought to see a doctor. Seems like just a couple of weeks ago she was feeling bad . . . she missed Dad's birthday party," Raleigh said, while stuffing his hands in his front pockets and shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. "What is it really, Rodney? Did I catch ya'll in the middle of something?" Raleigh said and gently elbowed Rodney in the side.

"Nah, nothing like that . . ." Rodney began as the front door flew open sending the smell of fried chicken into Raleigh's nostrils. Ethel balanced herself against the edge of the door wearing last night's makeup and tonight's cocktail of bitterness.

"Rodney, why didn't you tell me it was Raleigh at the door? What's so interesting out here on the damn front porch?" Ethel snapped.

"Rodney just said you weren't feeling well, Ethel. He said you might have something contagious," Raleigh said.

"Oh, he did, did he? . . . Well, you know how Rodney loves to pull pranks on folks. . . . Don't 'cha, Dear? Let's come inside . . . shall we?" Ethel chuckled, taking Raleigh by the arm.

"Ethel, you don't look so good. Are you sure you're feeling okay? I mean I wouldn't want you to feel like you had to pretend you're up for some company if you're sick or something. I just came by to tell ya'll some news . . . I won't be staying long," Raleigh said, as the three of them made their way towards the living room; Ethel swerving into Rodney's path, entangling their feet with the end result of Ethel depositing a house slipper into the shag carpeting. Ethel was beyond the point of noticing a naked foot and continued bouncing against Rodney til she reached the couch where she plopped her ample behind down so hard that the cushions jumped up and down as if they had life of their own.

Raleigh had stopped to retrieve Ethel's slipper. He sat down quietly in a chair facing Ethel fondling the slipper in his lap.

"Rodney, get Raleigh something to drink, please . . . and . . . I could use a little refill myself," Ethel said.

"Really now, Ethel, don't you think you've had enough? How's about a beer, Raleigh?"

"Sure . . . that sounds good to me," Raleigh said as Ethel interrupted him.

"Rodney, sweetie, just one more itsy-bitsy nightcap for me," Ethel said while pointing in the direction of an empty glass on the coffee table.

Rodney silently obliged Ethel in order to avoid one of Ethel's nasty scenes. He headed towards their kitchen cursing Raleigh under his breath for not calling before he came by . . . at least if the big oaf had called he'd have had the chance to put Ethel to bed.

Two years ago, when Ethel had gone off the deep end on her drinking, Rodney Preston had thought his marriage had hit the skids for good. But, as time went by things just seemed to slip into place for Rodney and Ethel and her drinking was now just another routine part of their everyday lives. In fact, Ethel's drinking was very convenient for Rodney. . . . Oh, he'd taken the car keys away from her long ago and hired a housekeeper to look after the girls . . . it was Ethel's lack of interest in his comings and goings that made her drinking convenient to Rodney. Divorce could very well ruin his social standing while adultery seemed to enhance the respect he received from his male counter-parts.

It hadn't always been this way. Rodney had once been in love with Ethel. She had been the envy of his fraternity brothers . . . beautiful Ethel Foster. Rodney had envisioned a loving and healthy marriage between the two of them back in 1966. Ethel, with her beauty and poise would have been such as asset to his career as a C.P.A. when it came to entertaining clients. He had actually been a devoted if not possessive husband until after the birth of their first daughter, Jessica. Ethel began to gain weight after Jessica was born and without that physical beauty to enchant him, Rodney had finally come to know who Ethel was as a person. He did not like what he saw within her eyes. He stopped trusting her then. He did not stop loving his memories of what he'd thought she would be. He understood her. She was a survivor . . . more than that, she was a desperate survivalist. She put forth the image of being so secure and balanced yet inside she was lost. She was so afraid of losing that she saw every person as a threat to her. Ethel would do anything to discredit someone she felt was threatening her. Rodney had stood by and watched her totally destroy the reputations of women acquaintances just for the joy of removing those women from her path. Ethel was ruthless in these matters . . . Rodney had never interfered . . . it was Ethel's nature to do such things. After all, he would not have wanted Ethel to turn her fury on him . . . he was no match for Ethel and her fury. He had instead done his best through the years to protect Ethel from herself. He admired her lack of conscience. For Ethel's sake, he prayed she would never develop one.

He could still conjure up the image of Ethel before the birth of Jessica . . . at night in the dark he could still love her now and then. They could make love on these nights with the same passion they had once held. Rodney could touch her then as though she were velvet, as though her skin was the texture of the haze around the moon on a cloudy night. These nights were rare to Ethel and Rodney. Ethel was too drunk to consider such prurient matters on some nights and on others she fell asleep with the bitterness inside of her so strong that she would dream of all Rodney's young lovers during the night. She had never particularly loved him . . . he had represented security to her in the beginning of their relationship but Ethel had never really known what she wanted from life, it was only those things that she felt she could manipulate that she insisted on holding on to. She knew within herself that it was only a matter of time before Rodney would fall in love with one of his lovers. He would find someone who could openly give him warmth without fear of becoming cold herself and he would realize that his years with Ethel had been wrong. Ethel knew that she and Rodney would always understand each other, they would always know the reason behind every action and every breath; yet two people cannot live on understanding alone. This was why Ethel drank, she understood him too well, she understood why he had married her and why she had married him. . . they were both for all the wrong reasons and though she could live her life with many wrongs, with the spirits of restless mistakes surrounding her, she could not love wrong . . . no one can love wrong forever.

Rodney could hear the conversation between Ethel and Raleigh as he approached the living room with Raleigh's beer and Ethel's orange juice laced with vodka in hand.

"Well, how will Missy and Lisa get by without your support while you're in the Army?" Ethel was saying.

"Ethel, Missy doesn't need my support. She makes good money these days. Besides, we've been separated for awhile now. Don't you remember?" Raleigh said.

"What's this about the Army?" Rodney asked.

"Raleigh's joined up. Now isn't that just the silliest thing you've ever heard of Rodney?" Ethel chimed with the hand movements of a church choir director.

"Well, silly is not quite the word I'd choose for it," Rodney said.

"You must come tell Jessie. She'll be so surprised," Ethel said and she lifted herself up off the couch with great difficulty to direct Raleigh in the direction of her daughter Jessica.

Jessica was in the bathtub taking a bubble bath with the bubbles and her bath toys arranged just so by her five year old hands when her mother disrupted her kingdom. It was humiliating enough to have your mother barging in on your quiet moments but here she was dragging her Uncle Raleigh in behind her.

"Mother, I'm bathing. Can't you see that?" Jessica said with a huff.

"Yes, dear, but your Uncle Raleigh has joined the army and I wanted you to be able to say goodbye to him. You may never get to see Uncle Raleigh again," Ethel said.

"Hi, Uncle Raleigh," Jessica groaned.

"Hi there, Jessie. Uh, I can see that you're busy now . . . we'll just step out here in the hall and wait till you're finished," Raleigh said in embarrassment.

"Now, Jessie, you really shouldn't be so rude to Uncle Raleigh," Ethel said.

"I wasn't rude. I just said, 'Hi'. Did you really join the army Uncle Raleigh? Will they give you a uniform to wear? What does the Army do, Uncle Raleigh?" Jessica asked as she splashed some bubbles over her knees.

"Well, the Army does a lot of things. Can't really think of any one thing that they do. You'll understand what they do someday," Raleigh said hesitantly. He was a bit bewildered with himself for not having a good solid answer for what the Army actually did.

"Where will you go? Will you take baby Lisa with you?" Jessie asked.

"Babies can't join the army, silly," Ethel chirped.

"I leave in three weeks for a place in Louisiana called Fort Polk. I'll write you letters from there and your mother can read them to you," Raleigh said.

"Three weeks is a long time away . . . isn't it Uncle Raleigh?" Jessica asked.

"I suppose it is to you, Jessie," Raleigh said.

"Mom, if Uncle Raleigh's not leaving for three weeks may I finish my bath now?" Jessica whined.

"Jessica!" Ethel screeched.

"I understand just how ya feel, kiddo," said Raleigh, "you finish up in here and I'll wait out in the living room with your Dad."

When Ethel and Raleigh had returned to the living room the conversations began to drift from Raleigh's enlistment to Ethel's current problems just as Kerry had predicted. Raleigh felt awkward in the Preston household; it contained a certain amount of pretension which Raleigh was unable to fathom. Raleigh had no pretensions of his own.

"Ethel, Mom wonders why you never bring the girls or yourself down to visit Pearlie. She gets so lonely there. Kerry goes by everyday," Raleigh said.

"If I went to visit Pearlie, I'd have to take a cab because I don't drive anymore and besides it's so depressing at that nursing home," Ethel said.

Rodney became a bit uneasy in his chair with the mention of Ethel not driving anymore and proceeded to try and change the subject. "Raleigh could I get you another beer?" Rodney blurted out.

"No thanks. I've still got some of this one," Raleigh said.

"Well, how's about a coke or something?" Rodney asked.

Ethel rolled her small brown eyes at Rodney in disgust.

"For Pete's sake, Rodney, leave him alone . . . he just said he didn't want anything," Ethel snapped.

"Ethel, you used to love driving around town. How come you stopped?" Raleigh asked.

"She doesn't drive because she had a small accident last year in the car and she's scared it might happen again," Rodney interjected.

"You never told me about it. What kind of accident?" Raleigh asked, as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees while still holding Ethel's lost house slipper.

"I ran over one of the neighbor's dogs. Poor thing; it shocked me so badly," Ethel winced.

"That's a shame, Ethel, but that sort of thing happens so often when people let their animals run loose like that," Raleigh sympathized " . . . it happens so often I can't see it as a cause for you not to drive anymore . . . I never knew you were that fond of dogs," Raleigh said.

"The dog wasn't running loose," Ethel said.

"Ethel, Raleigh doesn't want to hear some sad story about the dog. Let's talk about something cheerful for a change," Rodney said, crossing the room to sit next to Ethel on the couch. He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

"No, no . . . you've got my curiosity up now. Let's hear it, Ethel. If the dog wasn't running loose, then how the hell could you possibly run it down?" Raleigh asked.

"Well, you must understand, Raleigh, that it had been a very hard day. Jessica was late to her ballet lessons and I was in a hurry to get back home so Mrs. Lopez could leave for the afternoon; it always throws my schedule off when Mrs. Lopez takes the afternoon off because then I have to take care of April as well as run Jessica all over town. Anyway I was late from dropping Jessie off at ballet class and the damn dog just ran right under the car," Ethel said, as she began sipping once again on the vodka and orange juice.

"But, I thought you said the dog wasn't running loose . . . was it in the driveway or on a leash? Where was it?" Raleigh said in confusion.

"The dog was at his house," Ethel said.

"What?" Raleigh said scratching his head in amazement.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Ethel, if you're going to tell this story, why don't you at least tell it so it makes some sense. . . . You see Raleigh, what Ethel can't bring herself to tell you is that the dog was actually asleep in his own garage three doors down from this house," Rodney said.

"You're tellin' me that Ethel ran down the neighbor's dog in his own garage? I don't believe it. What the heck was Ethel doin' driving her car in the neighbors' garage?" Raleigh asked, with a snicker.

"Now you see why I never told anyone abut it, Raleigh. I knew you'd all laugh at me . . . it was an accident, it could've happened to anyone. These houses all look the same out here. I was just in such a hurry that I drove into the wrong garage. You can't imagine how embarrassed I was," Ethel said, vehemently.

"Oh, yes I can," Raleigh said, still shaking with amusement.

Rodney was growing increasingly uneasy with the conversation and happened to notice Jessica and her three year old sister, April, peeking through the living room doors. Their little faces took up the two bottom window panes in the glass doors with April grinning through the bottom pane.

"Jessica, aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Rodney asked, in hopes that talk of the deceased dog would end.

Jessica stood up, and taking her sister April's hand, pranced into the living room.

"Mother said I could say goodnight to Uncle Raleigh. He's going away ya know," Jessica said.

Both girls climbed up in Raleigh's lap where April immediately began sucking her thumb and fingering the buttons on Raleigh's shirt while Jessica took an interest in her Mother's house slipper which Raleigh was still holding.

"I've got a great idea, Raleigh. . . . Why don't you go put the girls in bed? You probably miss doing that sort of thing these days," Ethel said, with an edge in her voice suggesting criticism.

"Okay . . . yeah, that'd be nice," Raleigh said.

He carried both girls to their room. April clung to him as though she would never let go. After he had placed them in each of their beds and turned off the overhead light he stood in the doorway to watch them arrange their blankets and stuffed toys feeling as lonely as he'd ever felt in his life. He wondered if he would ever see his own daughter do these endearing things, he wondered if she would ever love him as these children loved him.

"Uncle Raleigh?" Jessica called after him.

"What is it, Jessie?" Raleigh asked.

"You didn't say 'sweet dreams' . . . Daddy always says 'sweet dreams'," Jessica said.

"May you have the sweetest dream tonight . . . sweeter than any dream you've ever had," Raleigh said, as he choked back his own tears.

"Uncle Raleigh?" Jessica called out again.

"What is it this time, Jessie?" Raleigh asked.

"If you do write those letters to me, and Mother takes the time to read them, then I won't forget you while you're gone. It'll almost be like you're still here. Do you promise that you'll write me from 'Fort POKE'?" Jessica whispered.

"I promise, Jessie. I'll write you a letter or two, now you'd better go visit the sandman," Raleigh said. He turned from the doorway and headed back towards the living room when he heard Jessica's voice calling out again. . . .

"Uncle Raleigh?" she said.

"GOODNIGHT, JESSIE," Raleigh bellowed; silence overtook him. Ethel had fallen asleep on the couch when he returned to the living room. He had stuck the house slipper in his back pocket on the way down the hall. Rodney was tampering with the stereo as Raleigh entered the room.

"Guess I should be heading out now. Thanks for the beer. Tell Ethel that I'll stop by again before I leave," Raleigh said.

"Sure thing, Raleigh. Hey, sorry about that little lie out there on the porch. Ethel was just a little jazzed is all it was. I thought I might be able to spare you some embarrassment. She gets that way sometimes. She's alright though, she'll be fine tomorrow," Rodney said.

"Yeah, sure . . . if you say so," Raleigh said, as he headed out the front door.

He was cruising around Missy's parents' house ten minutes later, wondering if she was out with her 'duck.' He stopped at the Seven-Eleven around the corner to buy a six pack before going home, and berated the cashier for teasing him about the house slipper sticking up out of his back pocket . . . he'd forgotten it was there. He popped the top on his second beer as he swung his Nova onto Ethel's street . . . 'three doors down' he thought to himself; and remembering the swing of the arm technique he had once used as a paper boy, he tossed the slipper into that yard three doors down from Ethel's house.

Peculiar, he thought . . . that Ethel's just damn peculiar . . . .

Julie Foster was single again. Her last husband, who had been her third since her divorce from Jeff Foster, she had divorced a year ago. She didn't need men, couldn't understand how she kept getting talked into marriage. They sure could come and go though, those men, how they could slip into her life so quietly and make themselves seem so important to her own existence. Her last husband had been a wonderful man . . . someone she had counted on, someone who had not lived up to her own standards of perfection. Jeff Foster was her standard for perfection.

Julie was a marketing analyst for an advertising firm in town. She had worked hard at having a career, nothing had interfered with that career, not children, and certainly not a husband; they had come in second place. When she had divorced Jeff Foster her only skill had been bookkeeping. It hadn't been enough to satisfy her need for advancement and the boredom of doing the same job day in and day out had driven her crazy.

Julie lived in an apartment just a few blocks from her mother's house in Northeast Austin. Her house was most often quiet. She had a love for fireplaces and though this apartment was not exactly what she'd had in mind when she moved here, it did have a nice fireplace where she could sit and relax. She would sometimes sit before the fire for hours with a book in her hand and never even open its cover but would instead gaze into the flames as though in a hypnotic trance. This was her home, this quiet place. Her children were grown now, all of them on their own, all of them had turned out okay. The turmoil she had created within her own life had not harmed them. They would all be survivors. They had all learned to cope with her failures, just as she had learned to cope with herself. They were too young to know of their own failures yet. In time they would see her life as having been very successful in comparing it to their own.

Jeff Foster seemed to have made a happy life for himself since their divorce. His wife Louise ran a very tight ship for a household. She was always around to pick up the odd chores normally delegated to the natural mother which Julie did not have time to take care of. This was a thorn in Julie's side . . . she would liked to have done all those things . . . she would like to have had the chance, but Louise was always first to think of the chore itself. Louise had planned Ethel's wedding, she had stayed with Ethel and Rodney for two weeks when Jessica was born, she had worn black to Raleigh's wedding to Missy, (which did indeed turn some heads), and she did not work. Louise was not an attractive woman, just the opposite of Julie in fact. She was short and plump with flaming red hair which turned a different shade of red once a month. Jeff was a handsome man, tall and thin, with intense brown eyes and a small straight nose. He was a no nonsense sort of person who never seemed to make mistakes as often as others.

Julie was a most attractive woman. She had hazel eyes and ash blonde hair which she wore stylishly in a 'french twist'. She carried not one ounce of fat on her lean frame and was seldom considered to be as old as her actual years by strangers. She had inherited the best features of her mother and father, though her Mother, Leota, was an unusually beautiful woman. Leota was a one of a kind beauty, her bright green eyes and platinum hair were so unique that anyone who had ever passed Leota on the street would still recall clearly, perhaps not the exact picture of Leota, but the intense rarity of her image itself.

It had been a week since Julie and Leota had returned from their trip to the valley to close up Kerry Pearl's house. A lot had happened since then. Raleigh had joined the army, Kerry had announced quite abruptly that she was not going to summer school and in fact may not return to school at all after this spring semester, and Ethel had shown up at the nursing home in a taxi, with both girls in tow, drunk as a skunk and dressed in her nightgown of all things. Louise had had to deal with Ethel even though she had never even met Kerry Pearl. She had driven down to the nursing home and politely introduced herself to Kerry Pearl as she packed Ethel and the girls up and escorted them home to Mrs. Lopez. Mrs. Lopez had been the one to call Louise for help when she couldn't stop Ethel from leaving the house in the taxi. Julie had been more than just a little upset with the woman for not calling her instead; Ethel was, after all, her daughter and Kerry Pearl was her grandmother, it had been none of Louise's business.

Julie sat relaxing in front of her fire with her usual nightcap of scotch and water resting in one hand and a Winston cigarette in the other when the phone rang. . . .

"Hello," Julie said.

"Julie, you just won't believe what that little ne'er do well's done now. I just can't believe it . . . I was sitting here having a nice conversation with Thomas Evans from next door and that little so 'n' so called here long distance to spoil my evening. . . ."

Julie interrupted her Mother quite rudely to find out what was going on, as Leota had a tendency to ramble. "Mother, it's late, now just what exactly did Howard to this time," Julie groaned.

"The little rascal's flying in here tomorrow . . . he's booked himself a room at Mama's nursing home . . . and him calling me to see if I wouldn't mind having you come to the airport to pick him up and deliver him to Mama. Now, don't you dare go down there and pick him up because I'm gonna get me a cab and go down there and put him right back on a plane to Yankee-land," Leota snapped.

Julie set her drink down on the table and took a long drag of her cigarette. She was thinking to herself that she had never in her life seen anyone who could get her Mother as ruffled as Howard Bates. A smile came to her lips and for just an instant she forgot that Leota was still on the phone waiting for a reply.

"Well, aren't you gonna say anything? I didn't just call you up out of the blue you know. We've got to figure out what we're gonna do about this," Leota said anxiously.

"What time does his plane arrive, Mother?"

"Now, don't go askin' me what time that plane comes in 'cause you are not going to pick him up and that's all there is to it," Leota barked.

"Mother, Howard is a grown man and he is certainly free to come and go if he pleases . . . he's also free to take a room at the nursing home of his choice. I think it'll do Grandmother a world of good to see him . . . now I want you to tell me what time that plane comes in so that there will be someone from this family at that airport to welcome him to his new home. . . . Do I have to call Howard and wake him up to find out when his plane gets here or are you going to tell me yourself like he asked you to?" Julie said.

"Oh, you're all against me. Mama's got all of you thinking that Howard's just the perfect little gentleman when in fact he's a sleazy, fast talkin', midget insurance salesman," Leota cried.

"Mother, Howard retired years ago from the insurance business and he is not a midget," Julie said impatiently.

"Papa would just die . . . ," Leota began as Julie once again interrupted her.

"Mother, Grandfather Max did die . . . this conversation is beginning to be a bit redundant, it's late you know, and speaking of lateness, I can't believe that Howard would call you so late in the evening . . . not only that but what the hell is Thomas Evans doing over at your place at this time of night," Julie said, knowing full well that this approach would slow her Mother down a bit on Howard.

"Oh, he didn't just call and don't you go insinuating anything about Thomas; he just came by here for a cup of coffee after work . . . no, Howard called here about six o'clock . . . I've just been tied up on the phone since then and I wanted to cool off before I called you," Leota said with a bit more warmth in her voice than before.

Julie could easily visualize what had been happening at her mother's house for the past three hours. Leota had no doubt spent at least an hour and a half ranting and raving to Thomas about Howard. Thomas himself was a widower who had not considered remarrying after his wife Effie had died back in '61. He and Leota were the best of friends, they were in fact each other's only friends of the opposite sex. Julie had thought many times that if Leota and Thomas were living somewhere far in the future, then, perhaps, they would have married. Perhaps somewhere in the future it would not matter that Leota was white and Thomas Evans was a black man and more importantly, perhaps they themselves would not have clung to their loneliness after the deaths of their respective spouses.

Of course after Thomas had had an earful, Julie imagined that her mother had probably phoned her friend, Anita. That conversation had most likely swallowed the last hour and a half.

". . . and I just didn't know what to do about all this . . . Julie, I'm talking to you . . . are you listening to me?" Leota was saying.

"Yes, Mother, I'm listening," Julie replied.

"That plane comes in from Albany sometime in the afternoon . . . I'm so flustered right now I just don't know how you'd expect this old woman to remember an exact time after hearing news like this," Leota said.

"I'll handle it, Mother," Julie sighed.

"Well, I guess there's nothing I can do about this tonight . . . 'dadgum' him anyway; just when we had Mama all settled in and all," Leota said.

"I'll talk to you in the morning, Mother, goodnight now," Julie said.

"Well, goodnight, dear," Leota said, still fuming.

Leota replaced the receiver in its cradle for the first time in two hours. She wore her hair in pin curls around the neck line at night with a bandanna wrapped around her head to cushion her head against the metal hair clips she used to hold the pin curls in place. She had tangled one of those clips in the phone cord earlier in the evening while talking to Anita and had had to remove the clip altogether to free herself from the phone. She got up from the rocking chair by the phone table and strolled to the mirror to replace the clip and re-tie the bandanna around her head . . . it was an old cotton bandanna that had belonged to her husband Edgar, its texture was as soft and worn as chamois leather. Seeing the bandanna in the mirror prompted her to think of Edgar. She was sure he would agree with her that her mother had had no business remarrying after her father had died. She was sure that Edgar was proud up there in heaven that she herself had not remarried; yes, Leota was certain that Edgar would be waiting for her with out-stretched arms when her day came.

She sighed a gentle sigh of grief for Edgar as she turned to walk to her bed alone. She lingered for a moment by the window and noticed that Thomas Evans's lights were still on next door. The two of them shared such simple dreams, Thomas and Leota . . . they dreamed only for well-being of their loved ones and they prayed each night for a morning which would bring a better day. A better day for Leota and for Thomas would be the day when they did not wake from the dream at all.

Howard caught a morning flight out of Albany. The young couple who had rented his house from him a year ago had driven him from Saratoga Springs to Albany. He was accustomed to flying, having flown many times down to South Texas to stay with Kerry Pearl, yet this trip was special. Howard felt that this was his last voyage south; it would be his last rendezvous with his beautiful Pearl.

He was receiving the red carpet treatment from the stewardess. It wasn't often that she had an eighty-seven year old man in her section, which was first class. Howard sat primly in his seat dressed in his best wool flannel suit with his overcoat folded neatly in his lap. He wore a red ascot around his neck to protect him against a chill. His snow white hair was cropped close to the sides of his head with thickly waved curls on top which were combed back from his forehead. His handle-bar mustache had been heavily waxed with great care this morning before departing from Saratoga Springs. He was indeed in great shape for a man of his years with his trim physique and his full head of hair. He was the only man his age, that he knew, who still had to go for a hair cut every three weeks; he was, in fact, the only man he knew who was his age.

He thought to himself that it would be so nice to be with Kerry Pearl again even if this particular nursing home did have inflexible rules which would not allow him to share the same room with his wife. They would, after all, have their meals together and it was baseball season now. He pondered the arguments they would have over those televised games.

His house in Saratoga Springs was in good hands for awhile. The young couple, the Wilsons, had a lease which ran through the month of July and chances are they would stay on at the place for as long as Howard wanted them to. His only real concern was his 1967 Pontiac which he had been reluctant to part with. He'd left it with the Wilsons in hopes that they would drive it now and then to keep the battery up. It was the only automobile that Howard had ever owned so it was quite the prized possession.

Howard had had to change planes in Chicago and he'd had a two hour lay-over in Dallas before arriving in Austin. The stewardess escorted him off the plane where Julie stood anxiously by the ticket counter. He recognized her immediately from the photos Kerry Pearl had sent him and after retrieving his cane from the arm of the stewardess he advanced towards Julie with the walk of a man with great dignity.

Julie was expecting him to be much smaller, from her mother's description of him, she had foreseen him as being only about five feet tall. He was certainly a small man but he was almost as tall as Julie who was five-seven herself. There were many things about Howard Bates that didn't quite match up with Leota's description of Howard, and Leota was known for her colorful monologues describing him in great detail.

"You must be Julie. My dear it's such a pleasure to finally get to meet you. You are twice the beauty that my Pearl pictured you to be," Howard said while extending his hand to Julie.

Julie took his hand in hers and placed her other hand on his thin shoulders; she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Howard, it's so good to have you with us here in Austin and thank you very much for such a nice compliment. We'd best head for the baggage area now. How many pieces of luggage did you bring?" Julie asked.

"Well now, let me see . . . I brought two suitcases and a large cardboard box tied up with string . . . yes that's all, just those three pieces. Shall we find a red-cap to help us carry them?" Howard said.

"If you think we'll need one," said Julie, who was amazed at how polite and soft spoken Howard was.

"Now, tell me . . . when do I get to meet young Kerry? She has been so kind to my Pearl and I do wish to see her as soon as she has the time," Howard said, as they approached the baggage claim area.

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to wait long for that. Kerry is so excited about all of this that I wouldn't be surprised if she's not pacing the floor in Grandmother's room at this very moment," Julie said.

Howard raised his cane high in the air to signal a porter for help with the luggage. Julie didn't understand his need for the cane at all as Howard kept it looped on his arm and he had a brisk step to his walk which certainly did not call for the aid of a cane.

"Howard, it's so warm here. I don't think you'll need your heavy coat. Would you like for me to carry it for you?" Julie asked.

"That would be nice, thank you. I'd like to carry the cardboard box myself. I hope that nothing has been broken in there," Howard said with a mysterious lilt to his voice.

Julie spent the majority of the ride from the airport to the nursing home warning Howard about Leota. He assured her that he had had many years of experience now in dealing with Leota and was well prepared for the worst.

Kerry lived in an attic room close to campus. The house itself was a large rambling three story in great need of repair. There were currently only five tenants in the house though it was capable of housing eight. On the first floor there were two bedrooms, a dining room with a large mahogany dining table which had never been used by the current tenants, a large living area, the kitchen whose refrigerator resembled some freshman's chemistry project, a breakfast nook located off to the side of the kitchen, and three bathrooms. Wiley, the house 'gestapo' as they called him due to his responsibility of collecting everyone's rent and relaying complaints to the landlord, lived on this floor alone. He was the night manager of a bar just around the corner where Kerry played music on Sunday nights. He was a stout, dark haired young man who sometimes attended graduate school at the University; his thesis was in philosophy. Though it was never obvious to Kerry, he had made himself her guardian angel and had trained himself to stay awake at night until he heard the scrape of her loafers on the bottom rung of the ladder which led straight up to the attic room.

Two tenants lived on the second floor. One of them was a fellow who was a guitar player for a country and western band; he was on the road most of the time with the band so Kerry had never gotten to know him very well. His name was Alvin. The other tenant on this floor was a young hippie named Beam-us, as in the television series, Star Trek. No one knew a whole lot about Beam-us except that he came from a wealthy family in Tennessee and lived on some sort of trust fund. His checks arrived in the mail on the fifth of each month and since Beam-us had a passion for LSD, he could be counted on to remain in his room for at least two weeks after each check arrived. The hallway just outside his door held a permanent cloud of marijuana smoke and his favorite phrase in passing another tenant in the hall was, of course, "Beam-us up, Scotty." Kerry had an acute allergy to marijuana so she had a tendency to avoid socializing with Beam-us whenever possible.

The third floor had an atmosphere which was totally different from that of the other floors. There were two bedrooms, a parlor, and a bathroom on this floor. The whole floor had been rented to the head chef of a neighborhood French restaurant, named Lensel. Lensel was a homosexual who himself was a very quiet and polite sort of fellow. He had redecorated the third floor, as best he could, with carpets from India and exquisite water colors which had been painted by one of his former lovers who now lived in England. Lensel was, by far, Kerry's favorite housemate and she spent hours in conversation with him. It was, in fact, not Lensel that Wiley and the other tenants objected to, nor was it his homosexuality; it was the lovers who Lensel chose to parade through the house at all hours that bothered each and every soul in this household, for Lensel was not in the least bit discreet in his choice of partners; Lensel, in truth, had no taste what-so-ever in men. Fortunately for Kerry, the ladder leading to her attic room was quite intimidating so only rarely did one of Lensel's houseguests venture into her isolated domain. Lensel had this tendency to become obsessed with his lovers. His current obsession was a filthy young man with long stringy blond hair who Wiley had nick-named Mr. Two-Pants since this young man always wore two pair of pants, one on top of the other, with the top pair just an inch or two shorter in the cuffs than the bottom pair. He was an extremely peculiar young man indeed and Kerry had been awakened at six a.m. this morning by Mr. Two-Pants's annoying wheezing . . . he had been standing at the foot of her bed. She had yelled, "What the hell are you doing in my room?" which had lifted Wiley straight up off the mattress and up the stairs to Kerry's ladder. When his feet found their purchase on the bottom rung, that same bottom rung that creaked beneath the scrape of Kerry's loafer each night, the wood snapped in two and sent him sprawling on one of Lensel's Indian carpets. Beam-us had actually been brought back to reality by Kerry's scream and upon rounding the landing on the third floor to find Wiley flat on his back on the floor he replied . . .

"Would you like me to beam you up now, Captain Kirk?"

"Oh, just shut the fuck up, Beam-us, and go on back to bed!" Wiley had said as he brushed himself off and remounted the ladder.

As it turned out, Mr. Two-Pants claimed he had simply been searching for the bathroom and it was his understanding from Lensel that there was one up in the attic room. The whole incident had caused such an uproar in the house that Kerry had been unable to go back to sleep afterwards.

Her attic space actually contained two rooms; a bathroom with only a toilet and a sink, her bedroom, a sitting room, and a screened in porch which opened out of the sitting room. The ceiling sloped in such a way that there was only a space about four feet wide in the center where one could stand fully erect. This space ran down the center of both rooms which were arranged in the traditional shot-gun style. She had spent the remainder of the morning pacing the length of the two rooms within that small space. Today was the day that Howard was coming to make Pearlie well again she thought to herself. What a way to start the day.

Her mother had insisted on going alone to the airport to pick up Howard. Kerry began preparing for her bike ride out to the nursing home at noon, though her Mother and Howard were not expected to arrive there until two. Lensel had poked his head up above the ladder at least a dozen times to say he was sorry for this morning's disturbance, but Kerry had been much too preoccupied with her thoughts of Pearlie and Howard to acknowledge him. This had wounded Lensel so deeply that he had retreated to the seldom used living area on the first floor where he proceeded to play Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings over and over again on the stereo, which had a blown speaker, until Wiley stomped out of his room and demanded that he "TURN THAT SHIT OFF."

Kerry had been bent down before the sink in her bathroom brushing her teeth when she heard Wiley bellow at Lensel. She then experienced her only thought for the day not having to do with the plight of Pearlie and Howard. She thought of her boyfriend, Fletcher. Fletcher often came down to Austin to spend weekends with her and in looking around the cramped space in which, even she, had to stoop to keep from bumping her head she recalled with amusement that on his last visit Fletcher had commented that this attic room must have been especially designed for a woman because it was damn near impossible for any male to stand and pee into the toilet. They had laughed about this for hours. They had made love a second time, the first time having been just prior to Fletcher's visit to the toilet.

Kerry wished that Fletcher could be here with her today to witness the reunion of Howard and Pearlie. She wished she could always share those brief yet magical moments with Fletcher. Kerry had an eye for such moments. She would feel their presence and she would savor such things as most people would savor a good glass of wine. At times she would think to herself, as the magic transpired, that she would save its image for Fletcher, as though she could capture that special emotion which had moved her and relay its beauty to him, but it never seemed to happen that way. She never quite chose the right words for her images and they were lost somewhere in the translation. Her reasons for trying to bring forth these images were the very reasons Fletcher was in love with her.

The love between Kerry and Fletcher was a love of innocence itself; it was the love of a different era, for their hearts each reached out in total trust of the other's and the respect between the two of them basked itself in the rhythm of their strength. Yet, they were two individuals so totally devoted to their love that they created only an illusion of union for they were two separate souls whose hearts held the capacity to move in different directions . . . they sought opposite goals, and still the love could live and breathe in unison. They were not lonely without one another. They had known each other for so many years that they had forgotten the meaning for the word 'lonely'. Their youth had been spent together, they had not experienced the horrors of pubescent solitude. It was this lack of experience in loneliness that created a special bond between Fletcher and Kerry for as individuals they were incapable of tolerating the loneliness in others.

Leota sat in a straight-backed chair beside her mother's bed pondering a crossword puzzle and waiting for the entrance of Howard Bates. Kerry Pearl was quite vexed with Leota, for though Leota had not said one word about Howard's arrival she had chosen this day to sport a gold locket around her neck which Max had given her as a child. The locket contained photos of both Kerry Pearl and Max which were taken on their tenth anniversary. Leota sat poised with the locket in full view resting gently on the collar of her white cotton blouse as though she were prepared to spring the locket open in Howard's face the moment he entered the room.

"Leota, you haven't worn that locket in years. Why, in heaven's name, have you chosen to wear it today? This is such a special day for me. Can't you at least take that into consideration and put your own feelings aside?" Kerry Pearl asked quietly.

"It is only a locket, Mama. I just had the urge to wear it again. I'm not going to spoil your day here, I'll be going home when Howard and Julie get here . . . I've plenty of things to do this afternoon. Ethel isn't feeling well and I've promised Rodney that I would go out to their place to look after the girls. Seems that Mrs. Lopez needs the afternoon off," Leota replied, without looking up from her crossword puzzle.

"You know, Leota, Ethel was so peculiar when she was here the other day. She had on some sort of evening gown and was only wearing one shoe; actually it wasn't a shoe at all, it was a house slipper of some sort," Kerry Pearl said.

"There's no need to be kind here, Mama, Ethel was here in her nightgown and she was drunk as a skunk and that's all there is to it," Leota said, while finally putting the crossword puzzle aside to talk with her mother.

"Well, drunk or not, she embarrassed that poor child, Jessica. April isn't old enough to know of such things . . . she had a great time pretending it was some sort of girls' slumber party," Kerry Pearl said, as she switched the television on with her remote control.

"What game show is this, Mama?" Leota asked, pretending to be interested in the television show now blaring from the small portable Howard had ordered for Kerry Pearl.

"It's 'Password', dear. Don't you just love it when they play the match with some mystery word and the T.V. audience has to guess what the word is?" Kerry Pearl asked, feigning enthusiasm.

"I'm usually busy at this time of day, . . ." Leota began.

Kerry Pearl snapped the television off with a sharp turn of her wrist and turned to stare Leota in the eye.

"Well, since you have instructed me not to be kind about Ethel's problem then I must tell you that I have been shocked that this family is simply ignoring her troubles. There is something deeply wrong with that young woman or she would not be drinking like she is. In the entire time that I've been up here, I have only seen Ethel three times and all three of those occasions she reeked of gin. Now you know how I feel about alcohol. Even your Edgar was forbidden to bring beer into my home. For the sake of those beautiful little girls, I think something should be done about this drinking problem of hers before she hurts someone," Kerry Pearl said.

"It's vodka, Mama, Julie says she drinks vodka, not gin," Leota snapped.

"What? . . . Oh, Leota, will you never address an issue?" Kerry Pearl said in frustration just as Howard arrived in the doorway.

"And what issue would that be, my dear Pearl?" Howard said, cautiously.

Upon seeing Howard in the doorway, the age seemed to vanish from Kerry Pearl's face for love knows not the limitations of age and their faces at that moment became ageless.

"Oh, Howard, I can't believe you're actually here," said Kerry Pearl.

Howard sat down in the chair opposite Leota. Their eyes met for only a fleeting moment. Leota thought to herself that she had let her guard slip during that brief eye contact with Howard. He was such a handsome little man and she had actually caught herself smiling back at him.

"Well, Mama, now that Howard's here I think I should be leaving. If Julie doesn't mind, I need her to stop off at my house before taking me to Ethel's and I'm sure she has a lot of work to attend to; she can't be spending her whole day lolly-gaggin' around with us old folks," Leota said, as she stood to leave.

"I'm in no hurry, Mother," Julie replied, "really, let's just visit awhile."

"Come now, Leota, I've only just gotten here. We have so many things to discuss and it has been so many years since I've seen your lovely face. Please stay. I had hoped that you would assist me setting up my room. I'm an old man, you know, and I've never had much taste in decorating. Pearl has told me that you have quite a knack for brightening up a room. I must say that this room looks so cheerful with all the flower arrangements. They must be your doing, Leota," Howard said, as he gently squeezed Kerry Pearl's hand.

"Actually, Howard, these flowers are just something I picked up in the flower shop here at the home. You could go down there and pick some out for yourself, you see the shop is run by volunteers among the residents here and the proceeds are used to purchase recreational equipment. I'll stay though for a little while, but I really must go soon as I have an appointment later," Leota said, as she lowered herself back into the chair. She would not, under any circumstances, allow Howard's flattery to sway her from believing that he had no business whatsoever moving to Austin.

Howard had been aware that the flowers came from the floral shop in the nursing home. When he had called for information about the home here it had been mentioned as one of the high points in living here and he had been quite excited about the prospect of working in the flower shop himself.

Julie had carried Howard's cardboard box into the room and placed it on the foot of Kerry Pearl's bed. Howard got up from this chair and began opening the mysterious box. From the box he took a small jewelry case which was covered in burgundy velvet. With the case in hand he walked around the bed to stand beside Leota.

"I've brought you a small memento, Leota. It is only a small reminder to you for the love I have of your beautiful mother. I hope you will accept this as a token of my affection as you are dear to my heart," Howard said. His small hands fumbled with the box for an instant and when it was opened a royal blue lining was revealed; a small pearl drop on a gold chain sparkled against the satin lining.

"Though it is not as beautiful as your Mother, it is none the less a jewel just as she is the jewel of my life," Howard said.

Leota was rendered speechless with Howard's presentation of the gift. The pearl was so delicate that even she would not deny that it was a lovely reminder of her mother's name and beauty. Tears filled her eyes as she reluctantly took the small box from Howard's hands. The locket around her neck suddenly felt as though it were an anchor; as though it weighed a thousand pounds or more.

"It's just lovely, Howard. It's very thoughtful of you to think of me," Leota said, choking back tears.

"Oh, Mother, what a nice present. Try it on . . . come on let's see how it looks, " Julie said, as she bent down to examine the pearl.

"Yes, Leota, try it on. Here, let me help you," Howard said, reaching for the jewel case.

Kerry Pearl in the meantime could not take her eyes off of the locket which Leota was wearing, the pearl itself was only a blur resting in Leota's hand. "Perhaps Leota would rather wait until she gets home to try the necklace on. Wouldn't you, Leota?" Kerry Pearl said in a stern voice, determined that Howard's feelings be spared by his never knowing the contents of Leota's locket.

"Oh, nonsense, my Pearl. I want to see how it reflects the heather green in Leota's eyes," Howard said. He had already removed the fragile gold chain and pearl drop from the jewel box and as he fumbled to fasten the necklace around Leota's neck he accidently released the faulty latch to the chain which held the locket. The faulty latch was why Leota seldom wore the locket and she had never taken the time to have it fixed, it hadn't seemed all that important, until today. The necklace holding the locket spilled onto the edge of Kerry Pearl's bed and the sound of the locket springing open was muffled by its impact on the mattress.

"Oh, dear, how clumsy of me, Leota. I'll just fix this right up," Howard began, as he reached for the locket. His hands stopped short of retrieving it when he saw the pictures inside. He paused for only a second or two, he exchanged glances with Kerry Pearl which was enough to allow him to regain his composure. "Why, what a wonderful picture of Pearl, and such a handsome shot of Max," Howard said, as he closed the locket and placed it in Leota's trembling hand.

"Yes, that was taken on their tenth wedding anniversary," Leota said, still quite shaken.

"Well, Max would be so proud that you wear it so close to your heart. I would be so honored if you wore the pearl now and then. It complements this locket so nicely. Don't you think so Pearl?" Howard said.

"Why, yes . . . they look just lovely together," Kerry Pearl sighed. She was relieved that Howard had handled the situation so carefully. It was one of his qualities which she found to be the most endearing; his ability to always survive difficult confrontations with her children and come out smelling like a rose; for that was Howard, he was a cautious yet thoughtful man and he was her jewel.

Leota had not been prepared for Howard to actually see the contents of her locket. She had worn it to remind her Mother of her disapproval of Howard. She was embarrassed by the incident so badly that she lingered in the room for only a few tense minutes before excusing herself and asking Julie to drive her home.

The first moments there between Leota and Howard had gone poorly, Kerry Pearl thought, but they did improve during the following days. Leota did not wear the locket when visiting with Kerry Pearl and Howard; she did wear the pearl, and when questioned by Howard about the locket she replied that it was being repaired at the jeweler's though in truth it was at home in her jewelry box. She still did not have the time to have its latch replaced.

Young Kerry spent most of her afternoons visiting with Kerry Pearl and Howard. Howard's room was located directly across a courtyard from Kerry Pearl's. Their rooms, in fact, faced one another and Kerry would open the sliding glass door which faced Howard's room and wave at him each afternoon when she arrived. Howard was almost always sitting by his glass door reading at that time in the afternoon. On Mondays and Thursdays he worked in the floral shop from one to four in the afternoon. He brought Kerry Pearl a different arrangement of flowers each day that he worked. For young Kerry he became the great-grandfather she had never known and as each day went by she grew to treasure his presence more. She did a great deal of juggling with her time in order to prevent Leota from feeling that she was forsaking her; yet these were happy days for everyone, including Leota, who was so pleased with her mother's improved disposition that she put her dislike of Howard aside.

The rules of the nursing home did not allow Howard to remain in Kerry Pearl's room past ten o'clock at night. It became exceedingly difficult for Howard to leave Kerry Pearl in the evenings and it was only a matter of days before the nurses began finding Howard curled up beside Kerry Pearl in the mornings. He would leave Kerry Pearl's sliding glass door open when he retired to his room at ten o'clock and wait until all the lights went out when he would slip across the courtyard and climb into bed with Kerry Pearl.

The nurses would scold him each morning saying, "Now, Mr. Bates, you know you're not supposed to sleep in here. Mrs. Bates isn't well enough for such strain." At which point Howard would always reply that he'd only just arrived here and hadn't spent the entire night there in Kerry Pearl's bed at all. "Well, you're not allowed up on the bed, you know that," the nurses would reply to Howard's denial. Still, the nurses found Howard's devotion to Kerry Pearl so endearing that they did not bother to check her room during the night for they considered this a violation of this elderly couple's privacy. They were also perceptive enough not to discuss the problem with Leota.

It was a joyous reunion for the Bateses. Kerry Pearl was in such high spirits and the laughter rang from room 112 each day. Their presence in the nursing home together brought a cheerful lift for all the residents. Yet, Kerry Pearl was not healing properly. She had developed an infection in her hip which had demanded heavy doses of antibiotics. Within a few days it became evident that she had contracted pneumonia. It wasn't so bad at first. The doctor had placed her under an oxygen tent and Howard was specifically requested to remain in his room at night. Though Kerry Pearl was gravely ill, she still remained deliriously happy because of Howard's presence and it was as if being with him this last time was the last goal she had waited to achieve in her life.

On the third day after being placed under the oxygen tent Kerry Pearl called Leota in alone for a conference. She handed Leota an envelope and upon removing the documents from inside, she calmly went over all the arrangements for her funeral with Leota in detail. She and Howard had made these arrangements years ago; they had left nothing for her children to decide and they had thoughtfully made arrangements which none of the children could disagree with.

Just one week before Raleigh was due to leave for boot camp the family had a gathering in the early evening at the nursing home. Howard once again brought out his mysterious cardboard box and from the box he brought out a gift for each member of the family. Young Kerry was given a rare first edition of Carson McCullers's novel The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Ethel and Rodney were given a photograph of Howard and Kerry Pearl which was taken sometime during the fifties and showed the two of them walking on the beach on South Padre island which was only a few miles from Raymondville. The sky was totally clear and the white caps in the gulf appeared to be of puffed cotton. They were captured in the photo holding hands and Kerry Pearl appeared to be as lithe and swift as the gulf's white caps. Howard's trousers were rolled up at the cuffs and Kerry Pearl wore a beautiful dress, gathered at the waist, with the hem line falling just below her knees and she was barefoot. Raleigh was given a small pocket- size journal covered in brown leather. Ethel's two daughters both received baby dolls which were almost life size. The two girls retreated to the corner of the room to examine their new babies. Julie was given a gold ring with a simple pearl setting. Leota was wearing her pearl necklace. Each adult passed their gift around the room for the others to admire with Ethel losing her grip on Kerry's book and dropping it to the floor with a loud bang. Raleigh stepped back from the circle around the bed and did not pass his journal around for inspection but carefully placed it in his shirt pocket. With the exception of Ethel's intoxication, which was distressing to Kerry Pearl and brought about an occasional exclamation from Leota of "Ethel keep your voice down!" it was an enjoyable evening for all. It was their last evening together.

At six the next morning the nurses entered Kerry Pearl's room to find Howard sitting in the straight-backed chair next to Kerry Pearl's bed with his head down on the mattress and Kerry Pearl's hand held against his face. The nurses approached her bed and upon finding that Kerry Pearl had indeed passed on, one of them left to call the doctor while the other placed her arm around Howard in an attempt to escort him from the room.

He resisted her at first then became resigned to her escorting him along, only stopping once, as they left the room, to turn and reply with a hoarse whisper, "Oh, my dear Pearl, you have left too soon, you were my heart, my Pearl, my jewel."

"Kerry! Phone's for you," Wiley called out from the third floor landing just below the ladder leading to Kerry's attic room.

"Okay," she called out, scrambling from her bed in search of a robe to throw on so she could answer the phone.

"Hello," she said sleepily into the phone.

"Kerry, this is Mom," Julie began.

"She's gone isn't she, Pearlie's dead isn't she? I knew it when the phone rang," Kerry cried.

"Yes, Kerry, she's gone. She died sometime during the night. Howard was with her. I wanted to catch you before you left the house this morning to tell you myself and also to tell you that the doctor has given Howard a sedative so he will sleep for the rest of the day. There's no need for you to go out there, he won't even know you're there," Julie said.

"Where is Leo?" Kerry asked.

"Leo's doing just fine. She is making the arrangements to take Grandmother's body to Floydada tomorrow morning. I've already called Raleigh and he is expecting you to ride to Floydada with him day after tomorrow for the funeral," Julie said.

"You can't take her there! What about Howard? You can't do this to him. You can't bury his wife way off in God forsaken West Texas a million miles away from him. It isn't fair. First you and Leo take her from her home in the valley and stick her in that awful nursing home and now you're going to bury her body next to a husband who's been dead for forty years. What kind of a person are you?" Kerry screamed into the phone still dazed from the news.

"Now, Kerry, you're just upset. Listen to me," Julie said, as Kerry interrupted her.

"It's your fault she'd dead, your's and Leo's. You stuck her in that lonely place so you wouldn't have to take care of her yourselves and you let her die there. You let her die there and if it hadn't been for Howard making all his own arrangements to come here to be with his wife, Leo would have made sure Pearlie never got to see him again. Why are you taking her to Floydada?" Kerry screamed in anger.

"Because it is what Grandmother requested. Leo is following your Pearlie's arrangements to the letter and I think you'd better just calm yourself down. We are all lost in sorrow today," Julie cried.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I said those things. It's just that I feel so bad for Howard," Kerry said.

"It's alright, I understand. I'd best go now, you call Raleigh later on today. I'll either be at Mother's or at home later on if you need me," Julie said. The two of them exchanged goodbyes before hanging up the phone. Kerry immediately called Fletcher in Denton to tell him that her great-grandmother had died. She wept most of the day and did not call Leota until early evening as she wanted to get all of her grief over this loss out of her system before speaking to her grandmother. Her main thought throughout the day was that she was very lucky to have had the honor of having her great-grandmother for all these years. There are very few people who have that pleasure of knowing their great-grandparents on into adulthood, there are very few who come to know those great-grandparents as friends. To most people their great-grandparents remain a mysterious shadow from their childhood but to young Kerry her 'Pearlie' had been a friend, a confidant, and someone she loved dearly with respect and admiration. The solid stance in which Kerry Pearl had stood in her convictions was the same strength young Kerry sought for her own life. Leota possessed that same strength as did Julie. They were a family of strong women who had learned to survive. Ethel was the only one of them who did not exercise this power; she did hold that very same link, yet she never chose to cultivate its qualities within herself. She would live her life entirely dependent on the weaknesses in others to strengthen herself.

Leota rode in the front seat of the hearse from Austin to Floydada. Her sister, Cora, was meeting her at the funeral home there. Cora's husband, Richmond, had made motel reservations for all of the family. Leota supposed that at this hour he was most likely propped up in the bed of one of those motel rooms drinking beer and watching television. They were only an hour away from Floydada now, Leota had barely noticed when they made the steep climb onto the caprock which was the beginning of the Texas Panhandle. She had been lost in memories since passing through San Angelo. She remembered, as if it were yesterday, a bus trip she had taken to visit Cora in Odessa just months before Edgar had died. She hadn't known he was dying then, he hadn't told her yet. She had taken that bus out to Odessa and stayed with Cora for a week while Richmond had gone to Austin to work with Edgar in the machine shop. Richmond and Edgar had driven out to Odessa at the end of that week and they'd all piled into Edgar and Leota's Dodge for a trip to New Mexico to see the Carlsbad Caverns. Edgar had told her he was dying there and it seemed to her now as she came back to the present in her thoughts that death was always in the West. Her mother had moved west to Austin and she had died; Edgar had gone west to New Mexico and had died. Leota vowed to herself that she would never return here once her mother was buried, she would never look west again.

The dust was flying when they reached the funeral home. It was a hazy cool day with the temperature in the fifties. Cora sat in the entrance hall to the funeral parlor and beside her sat her napping husband, Richmond. Cora stood up to greet her smaller sister and gently nudged Richmond's leg with her foot to wake him.

"What is it now, Cora?" Richmond mumbled.

"Wake up, Leota's here," Cora whispered while reaching down with her heavy arm to straighten Richmond's lopsided bow tie. Richmond was holding a large gray derby in his lap and his huge meaty hands clasped the hat firmly in preparation for greeting Leota. He stood up as she approached them, and lumbered towards her, still keeping a firm grip on his derby.

"Oh, Leota, we're so glad you're here safely. Did you have any problems finding the funeral parlor?" Richmond asked, as he relinquished his grip on the derby long enough to pat Leota on the shoulder.

"Well, of course not, Richmond. I wasn't driving you know," Leota snapped, in exhaustion.

"You must be tired," Cora said, "let's get you over to the motel so you can rest up a bit. Maggie will be coming in from Lubbock this evening and Horace will drive down from Dumas in the morning. We really didn't see much point in him coming in tonight. His health is not so good," Cora said.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me one way or the other with Horace. I wouldn't be upset if that brother of ours didn't bother to come at all," Leota replied.

Leota was carrying a small overnight case in her hand and as she stood talking to Cora, Richmond repeatedly tried to take the case from her so he could put it in the car but Leota was, as usual, being quite elaborate with her hand movements in speaking with Cora and each time Richmond would reach for the case, Leota would swing it high out in front of her . . .

"Richmond, just what in the hell do you want?" Leota asked.

"I just wanted to put your bag in the car. I was trying to be helpful, besides, you really ought not use such language in a funeral home," Richmond hissed.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Richmond, by all means take it," Leota said, while shoving the case at Richmond. The three of them shuffled out to the car together; Leota and Cora sat in the backseat leaving Richmond in the front alone. It was like old times for Leota and Cora, as they had always traveled this way; the two of them in the back and the men, Richmond and Edgar, in the front, except in the old days Edgar had always driven the car and Richmond either slept or nagged Edgar to pull over somewhere and find a rest room.

"No way," said Raleigh into the telephone.

"Oh, come on, Raleigh. We've already talked to Mother about it and she says it sounds like the best thing to do for Howard," Kerry pleaded.

"I don't care what Mother said, I am not riding in a car for eight hours with an eighty-seven year old man nor take the responsibility for Grandmother Leota's heart-attack when she finds out that I drove you and Howard to the airport to Lubbock to make your get-away. If Mother thinks this hare-brained scheme is such a good idea then she can take the two of you to Floydada and she can drive you on in to the Lubbock airport after the funeral; I wouldn't touch this one on a bet, and besides, Kerry, I offered to drive you to Floydada, not you and Howard," Raleigh argued.

"Well, it's just too late for you to say no. Mother's already left for Floydada and she made the plane reservations for Howard and me to fly to Albany from Lubbock before she left. She can't take us to Lubbock because she's going to drive Leo to Austin and she plans to tell Leo on the way home that I've taken Howard back to Saratoga Springs. Would you rather Mother take us in to the airport and you drive Leo home and tell her yourself?" Kerry urged.

"Uh, I think you just made a very good point there, Kerry. I personally do not want to be anywhere near Grandmother Leota when she hears about it. Are you sure that Howard's in good enough health to be riding in a car all the way up to Floydada?"

"Oh, Howard's in great shape, he's just depressed over Pearlie's death. He is all packed and ready to go in the morning," Kerry said.

"Kerry, you're going to lose a whole semester of school if you leave now. What does Fletcher think of this?" Raleigh said, still quite perplexed with the plans.

"Fletcher might come visit us this summer. He understands that it's something I feel I have to do. I haven't been that happy here in Austin lately. I need to take on some kind of responsibility sometime and I can't think of any better way to do it. Can you? I love Howard and I know he'll be happier in his own environment. Can't you imagine how alone he feels right now? He doesn't have any family of his own; Pearlie was all he had and she's gone now," Kerry said.

"I understand all of that, I really do; it's just that I don't want to see you throw your life to the wind. Responsibility does not mean trading away your own talents for the well being of an eighty-seven year old man whom you hardly know. I wish like hell that Mother had taken Howard to Floydada with her. What if something happens to him on the way up there?" Raleigh asked.

"In the first place Raleigh, I'm not trading away my talents, I've learned more from Howard in the past week and a half than I ever learned in school and in the second place it made more sense for Howard to spend one more night resting before the trip than for him to jump in the car with Mother today and drive up to Floydada where he'd have to spend the night in a strange motel," Kerry said.

"Okay, I guess you're right. One saving grace about this trip is that no one will have to look after Ethel. She and Rodney aren't going," Raleigh sighed.

"Yeah, Mother told me," Kerry said, as she looked up to see Wiley standing at the top of the stairs signalling her to get off the phone. His signal consisted of a gesture in which he drew his index finger across his neck just below his chin. "I gotta go Raleigh, Wiley needs to use the phone. I'll see you at five a.m. in the morning, pick me up first, okay?" Kerry said.

"Well, what's it to Wiley that you need to use the phone? Tell that asshole to hold his horses, I'm not through talking with you, Kerry," Raleigh barked.

Wiley repeated his gesture from the top of the stairs. . . .

"I gotta go, now, Raleigh. I'll see you in the morning," said Kerry and she hung up the phone without saying goodbye to her brother nor did she wait for a reply from him.

Raleigh held the phone out from his ear in disbelief and mumbled to himself, "what a jerk that guy is." He placed the phone back on his desk and went back to work packing up his belongings for storage. He thought to himself that this was one hell of a way to spend his last few days at home; packing up all his stuff which he considered to be worthless, attending his great-grandmother's funeral, finalizing his divorce from Missy, and sending his sister off with Howard to upstate New York. "Yes, indeed," Raleigh thought, "this is one hell of a send-off."

Kerry stood on the landing facing Wiley with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping loudly on the hardwood floor.

"This better be important, Wiley," she snapped, "I was involved in a very important conversation with my brother, Raleigh."

"You've been on that damn phone for hours, Kerry. . . . Lensel has to go to the cafe to prepare for the dinner crowd and we all wanted you to come downstairs for a minute," Wiley said defensively.

"Okay," Kerry said feeling a bit ashamed of her treatment of Wiley. They climbed down the stairs together. As they entered the living area on the first floor, Beam-us, Mr. Two-Pants, and Lensel all rose to their feet to greet her. In the center of the room was a large round coffee table. The table had been cleared of debris, (it was normally the catch all for junk mail and phone messages) and in the center sat a metal bucket containing a chilled tilted bottle of champagne. Kerry thought to herself that this must be Lensel's doing as he was the only one of her housemates who she felt would know the difference between a bottle of champagne and a bottle of 'Thunderbird' wine with a screw-on cap.

"We wanted to show you our appreciation for putting up with us for the past year," Wiley said, with a grin.

"Hey, really man, ya been just like one of the crew," Beam-us added.

"This is so sweet of all of you," Kerry said.

Lensel gathered the paper cups around the champagne bucket while Wiley began opening the bottle; the cork went flying in the direction of Mr. Two-Pants's head. Wiley poured the bubbling liquid into cups and they all toasted to Kerry's future in the North.

"We have a little surprise for you, Kerry," Lensel began, "we all talked it over this morning and we've decided that we'll each pay a little more on our rents for the next couple of months so we can save your room for you. It's just in case things don't work out up there. Wiley says the landlord wouldn't hold your room for you if he knew you'd moved so we're not going to tell him . . . not for awhile anyway."

The news brought tears to her eyes. She realized for the first time that her housemates had become like members of her own family; they were like brothers; well almost brothers . . . Lensel was more like the loving sister she'd always wanted to have.

Lensel walked to the bookshelves and withdrew his most treasured copy of the New York Philharmonic's recording of Adagio For Strings. . . .

"Lensel, don't put that on, that left speaker is blown and it'll sound like hell," Wiley exclaimed.

"Oh, no, Wiley, I wasn't going to play it . . . I wanted to give it to Kerry as a going away present . . . it's a little something to remember me by," Lensel said haughtily as he handed the record to Kerry.

Beam-us reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a joint with a small red ribbon tied around it. "This is just in case you want to 'beam' yourself home for awhile. You never know when it might come in handy," Beam-us chuckled.

Much