Homecoming: Part One, Chapters 6–12

Dawn gilded the sky when they arrived at the park entrance.

I was going to try to get work at the store by the park, but I was afraid we’d get too conspicuous when we had to stay.

She raised her head to look out again over the impassable river.
At least it was beautiful, with curves and marshy islands and yachts moored along the edges.

The Tillermans sat in a row and looked down at the river flowing below. They looked at boats moored close together in marinas, or alone at the ends of long docks.

"All these yachts have little dinghies that go with them, so the people on the yachts can get to and from their moorings. We’ll take a dinghy and row across and tie it up on the other side. I can row and so can you, James, if you have to.”

Waiting for dark, they watched nervously up the cliff to the house whose lighted windows looked out over the silver river. When full dark came, somebody inside pulled curtains over the long windows. Then the children stealthily approached the boat.

They were accustomed to boats, so they had no trouble getting into it quietly. Maybeth sat at the bow, Sammy and James at the stern.

In the middle of the river the current eased and the boat shot straight ahead. Then, as they drew near the far bank, Dicey felt the twists and eddies begin again.

"Everyone’s either dead or dying.”
"Go to sleep, James,” Dicey said. "That’s just morbid. You’ll make yourself crazy.”

Dicey lay back and closed her eyes resolutely.

While she waited for Maybeth to return and for James and Sammy to finish working out what was written on a cracked stone that slanted back towards the earth, Dicey looked at the gravestones about her. She read an inscription: Home is the hunter, home from the hill, and the sailor home from the sea.

Day by day, their money dwindled away.

Rain showered down and made miniature puddles on the turgid river water.

In the diner, which looked dingy by daylight, Dicey had fried eggs, while the others had pancakes.

Maybeth sang the old song in her clear voice. "'Alas, my love, you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously.’”

The children wandered up and down while Stewart and Dicey sat watching the little waves that meandered up onto the smooth sand.

They clambered out of the car and said goodbye to Stewart.

The gray linoleum floor gleamed, the refrigerator shone, the windows, looking over a tiny yard, were polished.

"We’ll be all right,” Dicey said. "You don’t need to worry about us.”
"I don’t know how you’ve managed it,” Cousin Eunice said. “You must be a very resourceful child.”

She wished she could find some flowers to put in a glass in the middle, but there were none in the back yard. Nothing grew there except a straggly, neglected cover of grass.

Other people’s old clothes—Dicey quelled the thought. She must remember to be grateful.

"What about welfare? Or unemployment compensation?”
Dicey shook her head. "Momma said she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t even go talk to anyone. She said charity was not for the Tillermans.”

"They were figuring out what classes to put me in. They asked me what prayers I knew, and what about the Gospels and the saints. I don’t know anything about any of those. Catechism,” he pronounced the new word. “They’ll teach me.”

But it’s tiring—the supervising and the sewing and the quality control. It’s a responsibility. You wouldn’t believe some of the pieces of lace they expect us to set. We have to mend some of the pieces before we can even baste them in.

Cousin Eunice nodded as she put a colander in the sink.

Remember, this is conjecture, not fact. It may just be gossip, you know.

"Speaking practically then, your other uncle is dead, your mother has disappeared, and I don’t think your Uncle John wants to be found. Which leaves your Cousin Eunice.”

But remember, you’ve already been through more trials than most people endure in a lifetime. You and James, you two at least, seem to have the strength and resilience to go on.

"You don’t like housework,” Mr. Platernis concluded.
Dicey didn’t contradict him, though she knew that wasn’t it. She didn’t mind housework.

James wavered between saying something rude and being flattered.

"Before you came, you and your family, I had certain ambitions,” Cousin Eunice said. Her voice was very soft and she stirred her tea thoughtfully. "Father Joseph knows of these, of course. He approved of them, with certain reservations. And since he had approved, I was sure it was the right thing.”

I have a substantial savings account, which would make up my dowry, that and the house. So you see, I could have managed well.

I have a substantial savings account, which would make up my dowry, that and the house. So you see, I could have managed well.

Perhaps Maybeth is meant to be a nun, perhaps she has a vocation, and it will be my place to guide her to it. Perhaps she will be my purpose in life.

Father Joseph knows about disciplining boys. James, fortunately, is biddable. Sammy has to be brought into line, so he doesn’t shame me.

"Don’t I know it?” Cousin Eunice answered, smugly.

When Cousin Eunice called her, the women stepped back and smiled primly at her.

Sister Berenice rose from her desk when Dicey came into the long room. The sister was very tall and very thin. She wore a black suit with a longish skirt, and her face was framed by the cowl she wore.

She was arguing more from habit than conviction. "You just don’t know,” she repeated.

"Your mother is in a state hospital in Massachusetts. She was found in Boston. She—do you know the term catatonic?”