Willow Run (13 page)

Next door I could hear Michael laughing. “Nice,” I told Mom, “for Lulu to have her father.” I smiled to myself, watching her.

She layered the tomato on the bread and cut a cucumber to put on top. She began to say something, but she never finished. The knife clattered into the sink as she looked out the window.

A car was pulling up in front, sounding loud, sounding terrible. But it had made it, just like our old Ford.

Mom ran her hands down her apron, and then we were out the door together, yelling back to Dad, “Wake up! Hurry!”

Grandpa tipped that terrible hat to us, then put his arms out, and we flew into them. “Margaret,” he said, looking down at me.

“Yes,” I told him as soon as I could talk. “Welcome home.”

Dear Eddie,

I'm putting this letter away for you. We'll
open both envelopes when you come home.

There are so many things I want to tell you,
and I don't want to forget any of them.

First, outside the door we have a salad garden
growing.

I planted it late, but a few of the seeds finally came up. The lettuce never turned into heads, but I'm going to cut the leaves tonight and they'll taste fine. We even have one cucumber started; it's no bigger than my thumb, but still, it will make a fine pickle.

That's what Grandpa said.

Grandpa is here now. I wrote to him and sent my five dollars from winning the contest so he could take the bus.

But that's not what he did. He said he had enough gas for his car to get here, and that we'd save the five dollars for when we see the sights in New York.

That first night Grandpa and I sat on the steps. I told him that my friend Arnold's garden needed taking care of, and he said, “That's a job for us.” He said we have to do things for each other. He thinks that's the only way the wars might stop.

Dear Eddie. We sit at the table having dinner
every night, looking at your picture.

I know you're coming, too. I'm waiting for
you. We all are. I have hope.

Love,

Margaret