“Boys can be heedless.”
Richie contemplated the roof of the building across the way. The roof was metal, and steep. If he and Michael were on the roof, Michael might look the other direction, just for a moment, and Richie could give him a push. It was three stories, and Michael would hit the pavement. He imagined that, headfirst.
“I have to punish you, Corporal Langdon. The rules say that, whether your behavior is intentional or out of carelessness, the suitable punishment will bring home to you the gravity of your actions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I am not breaking you back to private, but I am warning you that that is a possibility.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tomorrow, and for each of the next three days, you will run six laps around the drill field, carrying your weapon and your pack.”
“Yes, sir.”
“At the completion of the six laps, you will do twenty-five push-ups. You will perform these exercises while the others are drilling, as an example to your fellow cadets.”
“Yes, sir.” Then this would lead to shouts and laughing back in the barracks. Michael always said, “Shit, you run like a girl!” Richie pressed his lips together.
“If that doesn’t do you some good, Corporal, I don’t know what will. But I have faith in you.” The major reached up and patted Richie on the shoulder. Richie guessed this was supposed to be a fatherly gesture. He stared straight ahead and practiced what he always practiced, which was being a blank brick wall and never letting on.
“All right, Corporal Langdon, that’ll do. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Richie saluted again.
1969
MINNIE HAD INSTIGATED a spring-vacation trip to the East Coast for junior and senior honors students — first New York, Empire State Building, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Statue of Liberty; then the train to Washington, D.C., where they would go to the Congress, have a tour of the White House, a trip to the monuments, and a day at the Smithsonian. Only two of the fourteen kids had ever been on a plane before. Minnie herself had flown once, to Dallas, for a conference. She said to Joe, “Do we pin the ‘Country Bumpkin’ signs to our chests or our behinds?” Joe laughed. Annie, who was sixteen but had the demeanor of a fourteen-year-old, was an honors student; she and Minnie were going ahead of time and staying two nights with Frank and Andy. Janet, now a freshman at Sweet Briar, would be driving up for the weekend. Rosanna maintained, “Janet has adopted herself into Lillian’s family, though she acknowledges Frank and Andy in a distant sort of way.” That was kids, if you asked Minnie.
When the plane took off, Annie put her two books obediently into the pocket of the seat back in front of her. When they were flying, she read them like clockwork, half an hour for The Mill on the Floss, half an hour for Love to the Rescue. Barbara Cartland. Well, better than television, Minnie thought. Minnie smoothed her wool skirt over her knees. That, too, was new — orange. Minnie could never have imagined herself in an orange skirt with an orange-and-green matching sweater. Annie had gone to Younkers and come out with a new brown dress; Minnie sometimes wondered what Annie would be like if she hadn’t lived all her life with the assistant principal (and now, as of next year, principal, the first-ever female principal in Usher County). Annie was soft and affectionate, a bit of a mouth breather, not much like Lois, who did everything right, including sleep in the same room with her husband and show kindness to her children. Lois acted toward Minnie with total correctness, but gave off no warmth that Minnie could see. Annie, Minnie thought, was, as the kids at school would say, clueless, though appealingly so. Minnie knew it was her job to prod her niece, to give her a little spine so that she might make something of her life. The stewardess announced that they were about to land; Minnie realized that she was not going to be able to distract herself from the marriage of Frank Langdon and Andrea Langdon for much longer.
Andy was waiting at the gate. Minnie saw her gaze take in Annie and then switch to her as she stepped forward and held out her arms. Minnie gave her a brief hug, and Andy said, “What a bright and cheerful outfit you have on.”
Andy herself was wearing slender high-heeled boots, black stockings, and a black belted wool coat, way beyond cheerful. Minnie began to see the humorous side of this visit.
Andy said, “Arthur and Lillian should be here by dinner. Nedra is making a leg of lamb. Is that all right? So many of Janet’s friends nearly pass out at the idea of eating a poor little lamb. Annie, you look so much like your aunt Claire. Are these your bags? I’ve parked right out front. So easy. Newark is much more accessible than LaGuardia. Frank should be home when we get there. I thought when he got out of the oil business he would be home more. I thought weapons would have a more relaxed schedule.” She took the keys out of her purse and left Minnie and Annie to wrestle their bags into the trunk of the Cadillac, yellow with a black convertible top.
The trip from the airport was a lesson in the steepness of the socioeconomic slope on the Eastern Seaboard. Seventeen miles, according to the odometer, that began in industrial wasteland, ended in pastures of heaven. The driveway was long, and heavily shaded. Andy pulled up in front of a sprawling contemporary house with overhanging eaves and tall, narrow windows. It looked like the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Mason City, though not quite as dark and heavy. Andy and Annie tromped right in, but Minnie stopped to gaze at the blooming forsythia. She saw over the hedge that the neighbors had both a tennis court and a swimming pool. She vowed not to look impressed. Nedra came out of the kitchen and said, “How are you, Miss Frederick? I put you in the upstairs guest room.”
Minnie’s outfit clashed with every item of furniture in the whole house, so she changed into plain old black trousers and a navy-blue sweater. She was coming down the staircase when Frank walked in. She hadn’t seen him since Claire’s wedding. He looked gaunt, she thought. When he took off his hat, he was bald over the top. She had only time to think that the shape of his head was quite attractive before he glanced her way and smiled.
He said, “I sense a lurker in the bushes.”
“Just an old nanny goat chewing a few leaves.”
He gave her a warm hug. Andy appeared with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She said, “She made Baked Alaska.”
“Oh, I love that,” said Minnie.
“The Bergstroms invented Baked Alaska back in Eidsvoll, in 1234,” said Andy.
“Really?” exclaimed Minnie.
“No. But they called it a Norski omelette. My aunt always spread the sponge cake with lingonberry jam.” She sipped her drink. Frank kissed her on the forehead and went to the back of the house.
Andy said, “Bourbon, Scotch, vodka, gin, Burgundy, beer?”
“What are you having?”
“Old Fashioned. Only one. Only one. Only one.” Andy smiled.
Minnie said, “Maybe later.”
Andy turned the ice in her glass with her finger, then said, “How is everyone?”
“Fine,” said Minnie. “How do the boys like their military school?”
“Oh, they don’t. That’s the point. They had to go somewhere where the adults are one step ahead of them.”
“But they’re doing all right? That place has a good reputation for keeping the kids active and organized.”
“I would have sent them to Summerhill, in England—”
“Good heavens,” said Minnie.
“My psychiatrist knows A. S. Neill and respects him. He’s withstood lots of unfair criticism. Frank wouldn’t hear of it, though.”