I Will Fear No Evil Part 25

"Farm boss sends greetings and says guests of Counselor Salomon are honored guests of Agroproducts. No bribe. But he asked if the main gate guard had put the squeeze; I told him No. Correct?"

"Of course, Finchley. We don't rat on other people's employees."

"Don't think he believed me but he didn't push it. He invited you both-a.s.sumed there was two and I didn't correct it-to stop for a drink or coffee on the way out. I let him think you might, or might not."

"Thank you, Finchley."

They continued through the farm, came to another high gate; Fred got out and pressed a b.u.t.ton, spoke to the security office. The gate rolled back, closed after them. Shortly the car stopped; Finchley unloaded the pa.s.senger compartment, offered his hand to Joan Eunice.

She looked around. "Oh, this is lovely! I didn't know there were such places left."

The spot was beautiful in a simple fashion. A little stream, clear and apparently unpolluted, meandered between low banks. On and near its banks were several sorts of trees and bushes, but they were not dense and there was a carpet of gra.s.s filling the open s.p.a.ces. From its lawnlike texture it had apparently been grazed. The sky was blue and scattered fair-weather c.u.mulus and the sunshine was golden warm without being too hot. (Eunice, isn't it grand?) (Uh huh. 'Minds me of Iowa before the summer turns hot.) Joan Eunice stripped off her sandals, tossed them into the car on top of her cloak. She wiggled her toes. "Oh, delicious! I haven't felt gra.s.s under my bare feet for more than twenty years. Finchley, Shorty, Fred-all of you! If you've got the sense G.o.d promised a doork.n.o.b, you'll take off your shoes and socks and give your feet a treat."

Shotguns looked impa.s.sive; Finchley looked thoughtful. Then he grinned. "Miss Smith, you don't have to tell me twice!" He reached down and unclicked his boots. Joan Eunice smiled, turned away, and wandered down toward the stream, judging that Shorty would be less shy about it if she did not stare.

(Eunice, is Iowa this beautiful? Still?) (Parts of it, hon. But it's filling up fast. Take where we lived, between Des Moines and Grinnell. Nothing but farms when I was a baby. But by the time I left home we had more commuter neighbors than farm neighbors. They were beginning to build enclaves, too.) (Dreadful. Eunice, this country is breeding itself to death.) (For a freshly knocked-up broad you have an odd att.i.tude toward reproduction, twin. See that gra.s.sy spot where the stream turns?) (Yes. Why?) (It takes me back . . . it looks like a stream bank in Iowa where I surrendered my alleged innocence.) (Well! Nice place for it. Did you struggle?) (Twin, are you pulling my leg? I cooperated.) (Hurt?) (Not enough to slow me down. No reason for it to. Boss darling, I know how it was in your day. But there is no longer any issue over tissue. Girls with smart mothers have it removed surgically when they reach menarche. And some just lose it gradually and never know where it went. But the girl who yells b.l.o.o.d.y murder and bleeds like a stuck pig is a rare bird today.) (Infant, I must again set you straight. Things haven't changed much. Except that people are more open about it now. Do you suppose that water is warm enough to swim in?) (Warm enough, Boss. But how do we know it's clean? No telling what's upstream.) (Eunice, you're a sissy. If you don't bet, you can't win.) (That was true yesterday . . . but today we're an expectant mother. A babbling brook can be loaded with nineteen sorts of horribles.) (Uh . . . oh, h.e.l.l! If it's polluted, it'd be posted.) (Back here where you can't reach it without being pa.s.sed through two electric gates? Ask Finchley; he may know.) (And if he says it's polluted?) (Then we go swimming anyhow. Boss, as you pointed out, if you don't bet, you can't win.) (Mmmm . . . if he knows knows it's polluted, I'm chicken. As it's polluted, I'm chicken. As you you pointed out, beloved, we now have responsibilities. Let's go eat, I'm hungry.) ( pointed out, beloved, we now have responsibilities. Let's go eat, I'm hungry.) (You're hungry? I was beginning to think you had given up the habit.) (So let's eat while we can. How soon does morning sickness start?) (Who dat, Boss? The other time the only effect it had was to make me hungry morning, noon, and night. Let's eat!) hungry? I was beginning to think you had given up the habit.) (So let's eat while we can. How soon does morning sickness start?) (Who dat, Boss? The other time the only effect it had was to make me hungry morning, noon, and night. Let's eat!) Joan Eunice trotted back toward the car, stopped dead when she saw that Shorty was laying the car's folding table-with one place setting. "What's that?"

"Your lunch, Miss."

"A picnic? On a table? Do you want to starve the ants? It should be on the ground."

Shorty looked unhappy. "If you say, Miss." (Joan! You're not wearing panties. If you loll on the ground, you'll shock Shorty-and interest the others.) (Spoilsport. Oh, all right.) "Since it's set up, Shorty, leave it that way. But set three more places."

"Oh, we eat in the car, Miss-we often do."

She stomped her foot. "Shorty, if you make me eat alone, I'll make you walk home. Whose idea was this? Finchley's? Finchley! Finchley! Come here!" Come here!"

A few moments later all four sat down at the table. It was crowded as Joan had insisted that everything be placed on it at once-"Just reach," she explained. "Or starve. Is there a strong man here who can open that wine bottle?"

The dexterity with which Shorty opened it caused her to suspect that he had not always been a teetotaler. She filled her gla.s.s and Fred's, then reached for Finchley's. He said, "Please, Miss Smith-I'm driving," and put his hand over it.

"Give it to me," she answered, "for four drops. For a toast. And four drops for you, Shorty, for the same purpose." She put about a quarter of an inch in each of their gla.s.ses. "But first-Shorty, will you say grace?"

The big man looked startled, at once regained his composure. "Miss Smith, I'd be pleased." He bowed his head. (Boss! What's eating you?) (Pipe down! Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Oh! Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. . . . . . . . . . . . ) "Amen."

"Amen!"

(Om Mani Padme Hum. Amen.) "Amen. Thank you, Shorty. Now for a toast-which is a sort of a prayer, too. We'll all drink it, so it must be to someone who isn't here . . . but should be." (Boss! You must stop stop this-it's morbid.) (Mind your own business!) "Will one of you propose it?" this-it's morbid.) (Mind your own business!) "Will one of you propose it?"

Finchley and Shorty looked at each other-looked away. Joan caught Fred's eye. "Fred?"

"Uh-Miss, I don't know how!" He seemed upset.

"You stand up"-Joan stood, the others followed -"and say whatever you like about someone who isn't here but would be welcome. Anyone we all like. You name the person to be honored." She raised her gla.s.s, realized her tears were starting. (Eunice! Are you you crying? Or am crying? Or am I? I? I never used to cry!) (Then don't get me started, Boss-I told you I was a sentimental slob.) I never used to cry!) (Then don't get me started, Boss-I told you I was a sentimental slob.) Fred said uncertainly, "A toast to . . . someone we all like . . . and who should be here. And still is! And still is!" He suddenly looked frightened.

"Amen," Shorty said in sonorous baritone. " 'And still is is.' Because Heaven is as close as you'll let it be. That's what I tell my people, Fred . . . and in your heart you know I'm right." He poured down, solemnly and carefully, the symbolic teaspoonful of wine in his gla.s.s; they all drank.

Joan said quietly, "Thank you, Fred. She heard you. She heard you too, Shorty. She hears me now." (Boss! You've got them upset-and yourself, too. Tell them to sit down. And eat eat. Tell 'em I I said to! You've ruined a perfectly good picnic.) (No, I haven't.) "Finchley. You knew her well. Probably better than I did . . . for I was a cranky old man and she catered to my illness. What would said to! You've ruined a perfectly good picnic.) (No, I haven't.) "Finchley. You knew her well. Probably better than I did . . . for I was a cranky old man and she catered to my illness. What would she she want us to do now?" want us to do now?"

"What would . . . Mrs. Branca? . . . want us to do?"

"Yes. Did you call her 'Mrs. Branca'? Or 'Eunice'?" (They called me 'Eunice,' Boss-and after the first week I kissed them h.e.l.lo and good-bye and thanked them for taking care of me. Even if Jake could see. He just pretended not to notice.) (Busybody. You're a sweet girl, beloved. Anything more than kiss them?) (Heavens, Boss! Even getting them to accept a kiss in place of the tips they wouldn't take took doing.) (I'll bet!-on you you, that is-sister tart.) (Knocked-up broad.) "Uh, I called her 'Mrs. Branca' at first. Then she called me 'Tom' and I called her 'Eunice.' "

"All right, Tom, what does Eunice want us to do? Stand here crying? I see tears in your eyes; I'm not the only one crying. Would Eunice have us spoil a picnic?"

"Uh-She'd say, 'Sit down and eat.' "

"That she would!" Shorty agreed. "Eunice would say, 'Don't let hot things get cold and cold things get hot-eat!"

"Yes," agreed Joan Eunice, sitting down, "as Eunice was never a spoilsport in all her short and beautiful life and wouldn't let anyone else be. Especially me, when I was cranky. Reach me a drumstick, Fred-no, don't pa.s.s it."

Joan took a bite of chicken. (Twin, what Shorty said sounded like a quotation.) (It was, Boss.) (Then you've eaten with him before.) (With all of them. When a team drove me late at night, I always invited them in for a bite. Joe never minded, he liked them all. Shorty he was especially glad to see; he wanted Shorty to model for him. At first Shorty thought Joe was making fun of him-didn't know that Joe rarely joked and never about painting. They never got to it, though, as Shorty is shy-wasn't sure it was all right to pose naked and scared that I might show up while he was posing. Not that I would have.) (Not even once, little imp? Shorty is a beautiful tower of ebony.) (Boss, I keep telling you-) (-that nudity doesn't mean anything to your generation. Depends on the skin, doesn't it? I I would enjoy seeing our black giant-and that goes for Johann as well as for Joan.) (Well-) (Take your time thinking up a fib; I've got to make conversation.) "Tom, do you have those mustard pickles staked out, or may I have some? Shorty, you sounded as if you had sampled Eunice's cooking. Could she cook?" would enjoy seeing our black giant-and that goes for Johann as well as for Joan.) (Well-) (Take your time thinking up a fib; I've got to make conversation.) "Tom, do you have those mustard pickles staked out, or may I have some? Shorty, you sounded as if you had sampled Eunice's cooking. Could she cook?"

Finchley answered, "You bet she could!"

"Real cooking? Anybody can flash a prepack-and that's what kids nowadays seem to think is cooking." (Boss, I'll spit in your soup!) "But what could she have done faced with flour and lard and baking powder and such?"

"Eunice would have done just fine," Shorty said quietly. "True, she mostly never had time for real cooking-but when she did-or whatever she done, anyways-she done just perfect."

(My fan! Boss-give him a raise.) (No.) (Stingy.) (No, Eunice. Shorty killed the vermin who killed you. I want to do something for him. But it can't be money; he would not accept it.) "She was an artist," agreed Fred.

"You mean 'artist' in the general sense. Her husband was, I recall, an artist in the usual sense. A painter. Is he a good one? I've never seen any of his work. Do any of you know?"

Finchley said, "I guess that's a matter of opinion, Miss Smith. I like Joe Branca's paintings-but I don't know anything about art; I just know what I like. But-" He grinned. "Can I tell on you, Shorty?"

"Aw, Tom!"

"You were flattered, you know you were. Miss Smith, Joe Branca wanted to paint that big ape on your right."

(Bingo!) (Trouble, Eunice?) "And did he, Shorty?"

"Well, no. But he did did ask me. He did." (Don't you ask me. He did." (Don't you see see, Boss? This is that clincher. A fact you first learned from me me and nowhere else . . . and then had confirmed to the hilt. Now you know I'm and nowhere else . . . and then had confirmed to the hilt. Now you know I'm me me.) (Oh, piffle, darling.) (But Boss-) (I've known you were you all along, beloved. But this isn't proof. Once I knew that Joe and Shorty had met, it was a logical necessity that Joe would want him to model-any artist would want to paint him.) artist would want to paint him.) (Boss, you make sick! It's proof. I'm me me.) (Beloved darling without whom life would not be worth living even in this beautiful body, I know know you are you. But flatworms don't matter, coincidences don't matter, no mundane proof matters: There is no proof that some c.o.c.ksure psychiatrist could not explain away as coincidence, or deja vu, or self-delusion. If we let you are you. But flatworms don't matter, coincidences don't matter, no mundane proof matters: There is no proof that some c.o.c.ksure psychiatrist could not explain away as coincidence, or deja vu, or self-delusion. If we let them them set the rules, we're lost. But we shan't. What set the rules, we're lost. But we shan't. What does does matter is that you have me, and I have you. Now shut up; I want to get them all so easy with me that they'll call me Eunice. You say they used to kiss you?) matter is that you have me, and I have you. Now shut up; I want to get them all so easy with me that they'll call me Eunice. You say they used to kiss you?) (Oh, sure. Friendly kisses. Well, Dabrowski used to put zing in it but you know how Poles are.) (I'm afraid I don't.) (Put it this way, Boss. With a Pole don't advertise unless you mean to deliver-because his his intentions are as honest as a loaded gun. With Dabrowski I was very careful not to let it go critical.) intentions are as honest as a loaded gun. With Dabrowski I was very careful not to let it go critical.) (I'll remember. Just as well he isn't here. Because the situation is like that with Jake, only milder. Little baggage, you caused all my mobile guards to fall in love with you. So now I've got to get them to accept that you are dead while feeling that you are still alive, equally. If they call me 'Eunice,' I'm halfway there. If they kiss me-) (What? Boss! Don't try it!) Boss! Don't try it!) (Now see here, Eunice! If you hadn't played 'My Last d.u.c.h.ess' to half the county, I wouldn't be having to repair the damage.) ('Damage,' huh? You're complaining? complaining?) (No, no, my darling! Never. I was the prime beneficiary of your benevolence. But to lose something of value is a damage, and that is the damage I must repair.) (Well . . . I won't argue, dearest. But in this case you can let it be; I never let it warm up that much.) (And I I say you don't know what you are talking about. Cool you may have meant to keep it. Uns.e.xy-or as uns.e.xy as you could manage which isn't very. But all four of my mobiles were willing to die for you-correct?) (Uh-) (Let's have no silly talk. Do you think the fact that I paid them had anything to do with their willingness? Careful how you answer.) say you don't know what you are talking about. Cool you may have meant to keep it. Uns.e.xy-or as uns.e.xy as you could manage which isn't very. But all four of my mobiles were willing to die for you-correct?) (Uh-) (Let's have no silly talk. Do you think the fact that I paid them had anything to do with their willingness? Careful how you answer.) (Uh . . . I don't have have to answer! Boss, what's the use of stirring them up over my death?) (Because, my darling, from now on they will be guarding to answer! Boss, what's the use of stirring them up over my death?) (Because, my darling, from now on they will be guarding me me-as I now am, inside your lovely body-just as they guarded you. They've got to want want to guard me, or they'll never be happy in this weird situation. It's either that, or fire them or retire them-) (Oh, no!) (Of course not. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes; when you have eliminated what you can't do, what remains is what you to guard me, or they'll never be happy in this weird situation. It's either that, or fire them or retire them-) (Oh, no!) (Of course not. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes; when you have eliminated what you can't do, what remains is what you must must do. Besides, dearest and only, this is stem practice for the much harder case we still face.) (Jake? But Jake is-) (Little stupid! Jake has already accepted the impossible. I mean do. Besides, dearest and only, this is stem practice for the much harder case we still face.) (Jake? But Jake is-) (Little stupid! Jake has already accepted the impossible. I mean Joe Joe.) (But, Boss! You must never never see Joe.) see Joe.) (G.o.d knows I wish I could avoid it. Never mind, beloved; we won't see him until you know-as I do-that we must. Now either shut up, or coach me in how to handle these brave men.) (Well . . . I'll help all I can. But you'll never get them as easy as they were with me-'kissing-friends' easy, I mean. I I was an employee. was an employee. You You are the Boss.) are the Boss.) (If that argument were valid, queens would never get pregnant. Sure it makes it harder. But you've given me a lot to work with. Want to bet?) (Oh, sure, I'll bet you a billion dollars you can't kiss even one of them. Don't be silly, Boss; we can never make a real bet, there is no way to pay off.) (You don't have much practice being an angel, do you. little imp? You still think in earthy terms. Certainly we can make a bet and pay off to the winner. This baby in us-) (Huh! Now wait a moment-) (You wait a moment, Eunice. If I win this bet, I name our baby. If I lose, wait a moment, Eunice. If I win this bet, I name our baby. If I lose, you you have the privilege. Fair bet?) have the privilege. Fair bet?) (Oh. All right, it's a bet. But you'll lose.) (We'll see.) (Oh, yes, you will, Boss. You'll lose even if you win. Want to know why?) (Planning on cheating?) (Not necessary, Boss darling; you're going to find that you want want to name the baby whatever name to name the baby whatever name I I want it to have. Because you're a sucker for a pretty girl, Boss, always have been and still are.) (Now wait a moment. I used to be, but now I want it to have. Because you're a sucker for a pretty girl, Boss, always have been and still are.) (Now wait a moment. I used to be, but now I am am that 'pretty girl' and-) (You'll find out. Do you want coaching? I'll help you win if it can be done. It can't.) (Yes, but tuck your advice in edgeways; I've been chewing this bone too long.) "Fred, I'll trade you one of these Danish sandwiches for more wine. Then keep our gla.s.ses filled; Shorty doesn't drink and Tom won't and I want company in getting tiddly, this is my freedom celebration." that 'pretty girl' and-) (You'll find out. Do you want coaching? I'll help you win if it can be done. It can't.) (Yes, but tuck your advice in edgeways; I've been chewing this bone too long.) "Fred, I'll trade you one of these Danish sandwiches for more wine. Then keep our gla.s.ses filled; Shorty doesn't drink and Tom won't and I want company in getting tiddly, this is my freedom celebration."

(Fred might be easiest if you can get him over seeing ghosts when he looks at you.) "I don't mind another gla.s.s, Miss, but I mustn't get tiddly, I'm on duty."

"Pish and tush. Tom and Shorty will get us home even if they have to drag us. Right, Shorty?" (Shorty is your impossible case. I managed it only by being 'little girl' to him-which you can't be, Boss.) "We'll certainly try, Miss Smith."

"Do I have to be 'Miss Smith' on a picnic? You called Mrs. Branca 'Eunice,' did you not? Did she call you 'Shorty?' "

"Miss, she called me by my name. Hugo."

"Do you prefer that to your nickname?"

"It's the name my mother gave me, Miss."

"That answers me, Hugo; I will remember. But it brings to mind a problem. Anybody want to fight me for the last black olive? Come on, put up your dukes. But that's not the problem. I said I didn't want to be called 'Miss Smith' under these circ.u.mstances. But I don't want to be called 'Johann' either; that's a man's name. Hugo, you have christened babies?"

"Many times, Miss-uh, Miss-"

Joan cut in fast. "That's right, you don't know what to call me. Hugo, having named so many babies you must have opinions about names. Do you think 'Joan' p.r.o.nounced as two syllables would be a good name for a girl who used to be a man named 'Johann?' "

"Yes. I do."

"Tom? What do you think?" (Tom would kiss you at the drop of a hint if you weren't his employer. I don't think he ever did give up hoping to catch me alone . . . so I was as careful not to let that chance come up as I was with Dabrowski. All it took with Tom was to say, 'Tom, if you're going to be stuffy about letting me pay for extra service'-it was an after-midnight run, Boss; a rare-blood call-'at least you can kiss me good-night.' So he did, quite well. After which Hugo was too polite not to lean way down and give me a fatherly little peck. But what worked for Eunice can't work for 'Miss Smith.') (So watch me switch decks on them, young'un.) "It sounds like a good name to me," the driver-guard agreed.

"Fred? Do I look like 'Joan' to you?" She sat up straight and lifted her chest. (You look like you're going to break that bandeau, if you aren't careful.) (Pfui, little hussy; it can't break. I want him to realize that I'm female.) (He realizes it. Winnie ought to be here to take his pulse.) "I don't see why anybody should get a vote but you. But, sure, I like it."

"Good! I still have to sign papers with my former name-but I'm 'Joan' in my mind. But, friends, this country must have a thousand 'Joan Smiths' in it; I need a middle name. But I want want one for a much better reason." She looked with solemn seriousness at the giant black. "Hugo, you are a man of G.o.d. Would it be presumptuous of me to call myself . . . 'Joan Eunice?' " (Boss, if you make my friend Hugo cry, I'll-I'll-I won't speak to you the rest of the day!) (Oh, quit nagging! Hugo won't cry. He's the only one of the three who believes you're here. He has faith.) one for a much better reason." She looked with solemn seriousness at the giant black. "Hugo, you are a man of G.o.d. Would it be presumptuous of me to call myself . . . 'Joan Eunice?' " (Boss, if you make my friend Hugo cry, I'll-I'll-I won't speak to you the rest of the day!) (Oh, quit nagging! Hugo won't cry. He's the only one of the three who believes you're here. He has faith.) "I think that would be beautiful," the Reverend Hugo White answered solemnly and sniffed back tears.

"Hugo, Eunice would not want you to be sad about it." She looked away from him, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. "That settles it. My new name will be-is!-Joan Eunice. I don't want anyone ever to forget Eunice. Most especially I want you, her friends, to know this. Now that I am a woman, Eunice is my model, the ideal I must live up to, every hour, every minute, of my new life. Will you help me? Will you treat me as Eunice? Yes, yes, I'm your employer; somehow I must be both, and it's not easy. But the most difficult part for me is to learn to behave and think and feel as Eunice Eunice . . . when I've had so many weary years as a cranky, self-centered old man. You are her friends-will you help me?" (Boss, did you ever sell real estate in Florida?) (d.a.m.n it, if you can't help, keep . . . when I've had so many weary years as a cranky, self-centered old man. You are her friends-will you help me?" (Boss, did you ever sell real estate in Florida?) (d.a.m.n it, if you can't help, keep quiet! quiet!) (Sorry, Boss. That was applause. As Hugo would say, 'You done perfect.') Tom Finchley said quietly, "We'll help. That goes for Dabrowski too. By the way, she called him 'Anton.' First she called him 'Ski' like the rest of us. Then she learned his first name and called him by it."

"Then I will call him 'Anton.' Will you all call me 'Eunice'? Or at least 'Joan Eunice'? To help me? Oh, call me 'Miss Smith' when others are around; I know you won't feel easy otherwise. You probably called her 'Mrs. Branca' if other people were-"

"We did."

"So call me 'Miss Smith' when it would be natural for you to call her 'Mrs. Branca.' But when you called her 'Eunice,' call me 'Joan Eunice' and-dear and trusted friends!-any time you feel that I have earned it, please call me 'Eunice.' It will be the highest compliment you can pay me, so don't use it lightly. Leave off the 'Joan' and call me 'Eunice.' Will you?"

Finchley looked at her, unsmiling. "Yes . . . Eunice."

"Tom, I haven't earned it yet."

Finchley did not answer. Fred said, "Let me get this straight. 'Joan Eunice' is for everyday . . . but 'Eunice' means we think you've done and said just what Mrs. Branca would have."

"That's right, that's what I said."

"Then I know what Tom meant. Uh, this has been a touchy day-worse for you, I'd say, but not easy for any of us. Shorty-Hugo, I mean-said she was an angel. Or meant it, anyhow. I can't argue; Shorty is a preacher and knows more about angels and suchlike than I do. But if she was-is, I mean-still, she had a lot of salt and pepper in her, too. You remember an hour back when you snapped at Shorty and yelled for Tom?"

She sighed. "Yes, I remember. I lost my temper. I've got a long way to go. I know it."

"But that's just what I'm saying saying . . . Eunice. She had a lot of s.p.u.n.k. It we had tried to make her eat by herself, she would have kicked the gong. Right, Shorty?-I mean 'Hugo.' " . . . Eunice. She had a lot of s.p.u.n.k. It we had tried to make her eat by herself, she would have kicked the gong. Right, Shorty?-I mean 'Hugo.' "

"Amen! Eunice."

Finchley said, "Fred read my mind close enough . . . Eunice. But I was thinking of other things, too. I never thought of her as an angel, partic'arly. She just treated us like people."

"Tom-"

"Yeah, Shorty? Hugo."

"My name's Shorty to you-and to you, Fred. Don't put on any fancies. Hugo was Mama's name for me. And hers. Yours, Eunice. But I near forgot what I had to say. Tom, that's all anybody wants. To be treated 'like people.' She done it that way-Eunice. And now you do, too. 'Like people.' Mr. Smith didn't quite manage it. But he was old and sick, and we made allowances."

"Oh, dear! I feel like crying again. Hugo-when I was Mr. Smith, I never meant to be anything but people. Truly I didn't."

"Sick people can't help being cranky. My Daddy got so mean before he pa.s.sed on, I run away from home. Worst mistake I ever made. But I don't fault him for it. We do what we do, then we live with it. Eunice-the first Eunice-is an angel now, my heart tells me and my head knows. But she had her little human ways, same as everybody. The dear Lord don't fault us for that."

"Hugo? If it had been me and not her, would I have made it? To Heaven?" (Om Mani Padme Hum! Watch it, Boss! He'll drag you over to that creek and wash your sins away.) (If he wants to, I'll let him. Shut up!) "I don't rightly know," the preacher said softly. "I never knew Mr. Smith that well. But the Lord do move in mysterious ways. Looks like He give you a second chance. He always knows what He's doing." (Oh, all right, twin. Try not to get water up our nose.) "Thank you, Hugo. I think He did, too-and I'm trying to justify it." She sighed. "But it's not easy. I try to do what Eunice would do. At least justify the second chance she she gave me. I think I know what she would do now. But I'm not certain." (I'd knock off all this talk, that's what gave me. I think I know what she would do now. But I'm not certain." (I'd knock off all this talk, that's what I'd I'd do.) (Pipe down and give me a chance.) She looked around. "I don't know how well you knew her and I keep learning things about her. I think you three-you four; I include Anton-must have been her closest friends, at least in my household. Certainly you knew her better than I had thought. Tom?" do.) (Pipe down and give me a chance.) She looked around. "I don't know how well you knew her and I keep learning things about her. I think you three-you four; I include Anton-must have been her closest friends, at least in my household. Certainly you knew her better than I had thought. Tom?"

"Yes, Eunice?"

"Did you ever kiss her?"

Her driver looked startled. "Yes . . . Joan Eunice."

"Meaning Eunice would never ask such a question, she would just do what her heart told her to. I wanted to, Tom-but I was scared. Not yet used to being a girl." She jumped up, stood by his chair, took his hands, pulled.

Slowly he got to his feet. She put her arms around his shoulders, put up her face-waited.

He sighed and almost scowled, then took her in his arms and kissed her. (Twin, he can do lots better.) (He will. The poor dear is scared.) Joan let him go without forcing it beyond his willingness, whispered, "Thank you, Tom," and quickly left his arms.

-went on to Fred, took his hands. Again Fred looked frightened but he got up promptly. (What about Fred, Eunice? s.e.xy or sisterly?) (Too late, twin!) Fred embraced her with unexpected force, met her mouth so quickly that Joan was caught with her lips open and he at once answered it, savagely.

But briefly. He broke from it and both were trembling. (Eunice! What is this? You didn't warn me.) (So I goofed. Later, dear. Slow march now and say three Money Hums and be darn sure to be an innocent child with Father Hugo.) Joan went slowly around the table the long way, stopped by Hugo, waited. He got up from his chair, looked down at her. She moved closer, put her hands on his chest, looked up, face solemn, lips closed, eyes open.

Gently he put his arms around her. (My G.o.d, Eunice, if he really hugged us, he 'ud break us in two!) (He never will, twin; he's the gentlest man alive.) Hugo's lips met hers in soft benediction, unhurried but quickly over. She stayed in his arms a moment. "Hugo? When you pray for her tonight, will you add a prayer for me? I may not deserve it. But I need it."

"I will, Eunice." He seated her with gallant grace, then sat down again. (High, low, jack, and game, twin-what are you going to name him?) ('Eunice,' of course!) (Even if he's a boy?) (If he's a boy, he'll be named Jacob E.-for 'Eunice'-Smith.) ('Johann E Smith' is better.) (I won the bet, so shut up. I won't wish 'Johann' on a boy. Now what's this about Fred?) (You won't believe it.) (By now I believe anything. All right, later.) "Fred, is there any wine in that bottle? Hugo, will you open the second bottle? I need it, I'm shaky."

"Certainly, Eunice. Hand me the bottle, Fred."

"I'm going to eat some more, too, and I hope all of you will. Tom, am I still 'Eunice'? Or am I a hussy who doesn't understand how a lady behaves?"

"Yes, Eunice. I mean 'No, Eunice.' I-Oh, h.e.l.l!"

She patted his hand. "That's the nicest compliment I've had yet, Tom. You would never have said 'Oh, h.e.l.l' to Miss Smith . . . but you know that Eunice and Joan Eunice-is human." She looked around the table. "Do you know how good good it is to be touched? Have you ever watched kittens snuggling? For over a quarter of a century no one kissed me. Except for an occasional handshake I don't think anyone ever touched me. Until nurses and doctors started handling me. Friends-dear friends-you have taken me back into the human race, with your lips. I am so very grateful to Eunice-to Eunice Branca-that she kissed you before I did, and won your friendship-your love? I think so. For it meant that you let me in-treated me as 'people'! Uh, tell me this, I must know-even if it makes you, Tom, call me Joan Eunice' again. Did Eunice kiss Anton, too?" (Boss, I'm not going to tell you it is to be touched? Have you ever watched kittens snuggling? For over a quarter of a century no one kissed me. Except for an occasional handshake I don't think anyone ever touched me. Until nurses and doctors started handling me. Friends-dear friends-you have taken me back into the human race, with your lips. I am so very grateful to Eunice-to Eunice Branca-that she kissed you before I did, and won your friendship-your love? I think so. For it meant that you let me in-treated me as 'people'! Uh, tell me this, I must know-even if it makes you, Tom, call me Joan Eunice' again. Did Eunice kiss Anton, too?" (Boss, I'm not going to tell you anything anything until we're alone!) (Didn't ask until we're alone!) (Didn't ask you you, dear.) "Won't anyone tell me? Well, I suppose it's an unfair question."

Finchley said suddenly, "Teams shift around. I drive with Fred, and Shorty with Ski, and so forth. Been times when I rode Shotgun for Ski. Eunice, she treated us all alike. But don't never think anything bad about it-"

"I don't!"

"-because there wasn't any such. She was so warm and friendly-and good good-that she could kiss a man friend just for, uh-"

"For lovingkindness," Shorty supplied, " 'For lovingkindness.' Kissed us thank-you and good-night as quick with her husband there as any other time. Always did, if we stopped for a late bit o' supper with them." (All right, twin. Fred and Anton. Not Tom and Hugo. Happened only once. Oh, Tom would have, but no chance, so I kept it cool. Hugo-n.o.body gets past Hugo's guard and I never tried. He has moral character-something you and I don't know anything about.) "Thank you for telling me, Tom. I'll never let Anton guess. But he'll find me easy to kiss if he wishes to . . . now that I know that she shared lovingkindness with him. Abrupt change of subject: Tom, is that pretty little stream polluted? It looks so clean."

"It's clean. Clean as a creek can be, I mean. I know because I found out about this place through the company lending it to our guild for a picnic. Some of us went swimming after the farm super told us it was okay."

"Oh, wonderful! Because I want to swim. I last went swimming in natural water-old swimming hole style, I mean-let me see . . . goodness! More than three-quarters of a century ago."

"Eunice, I don't think you should."

"Why?"

"Because it can be polluted another way. Dropouts. Not all the dropouts are in the A.A.s; any wild countryside attracts them. Like this. I didn't make a fuss but when you walked down to the bank by yourself, Fred had you flanked one side and me the other."

"Well, heavens, if you can keep me safe on the bank, you can keep me safe in the water."

"It ain't quite the same, truly it ain't. I was a few seconds late once, I won't be again. Some dropouts are real nasty weirdos, not just harmless nuts."

"Tom, why argue? I want to get into that water, feel it all over me. I intend to."