carrying a long white box. It contained a sheaf of exquisite, long-stemmed yellow roses. The card was particularly eloquent, it read simply, "Thank you," and his name. But how had he known that yellow roses were her favorites?
She was looking for a vase tall enough to contain such elegance when Mark came in. With cool effrontery he picked up the card and read it aloud.
" Thank you, Josef.' Where does he get off using his first name?"
Rummaging in seldom-used cabinets high above her head, Pat found a tall crystal pitcher.
"We spent the night together, after all," she said.
"Hmph," said Mark.
Pat put the flowers on the table between the brown plastic bowl and the chipped cream pitcher.
"Classy," Mark said. "Inappropriate, but classy."
"You've been seeing Kathy, haven't you?"
Mark dropped the spoon he had been playing with, and dived under the table in pursuit of it. When he came up his face was red, but that might have been explained by his upside-down position. However, one look at his mother's face told him the futility of denials.
"Two hundred years ago they'd have burned you as a witch," he muttered.
"Don't flatter yourself, you aren't that enigmatic," his mother said cruelly. "I should have known you were up to something; you've been so cheerful lately. Today's con versation with Kathy was just a little too fluent if you had seen as little of her as you claimed."
"And?" Mark raised his eyebrows.
"And, while I was searching her room last night I found a note-don't sneer at me like that, I had to do it, Mark! It was under the blotter on her desk and it said, 'Meet me at the usual place, midnight.' It wasn't signed; but I thought at the time the writing looked familiar. If I hadn't been concerned with more important things I'd have put two and two together long before this."
"We only met a couple of times," Mark mumbled.
"Where?"
"That old oak tree at the back of their yard. The branches go down almost to the ground on one side, and-uh-"
"I don't know what to say."
"That's a change," Mark said cheekily. "Hey, Mom, take it easy. I'm not doing anything you need to be ashamed of."
"The note had one other word. I didn't quote it because I didn't want to embarrass you."
Mark's eyes fell. "You sign letters that way even to people you hate. Great-Aunt Martha-"
"I do not meet Great-Aunt Martha under the oak tree at midnight. Mark, let's not play games. You know what I'm talking about."
"Yeah, I do, and I think I'm being insulted. Mom, let me handle it. I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?"
They ate in cold, unhappy silence. The velvety roses mocked Pat with their serene beauty and their promise of friendship. If Josef Friedrichs found out Mark and Kathy had met clandestinely-and in such a stupidly romantic, potentially dangerous place… Why couldn't they get together at a local pizza place or even a bar? But Pat knew why. Kathy was so closely supervised she could only elude her father late at night, after she was supposed to be in bed. Josef was wrong to treat a girl that age like a baby or a criminal, but his folly did not excuse Mark's.
III
Winston Churchill, it is said, conducted World War II on three hours of sleep a night, augmented by frequent naps. Pat was not one of the napping kind; her afternoon sleep always left her cross and groggy, fit only for an early night. She went to bed at ten. Mark's light was still on. He had been at his desk since seven, and when she glanced in to say a rather cool good-night she was softened by the evidences of scholarly industry. His desk was piled high with books and he was taking notes with furious energy.
But instinct prevails. Pat woke in the post-midnight dark fully alert and vibrant with apprehension. At first she could not account for her feeling of impending danger. The house was quiet except for the usual creaking of shutters and thumping of radiators. Albert lay at the foot of the bed snoring and twitching, dreaming of mice.
Jud usually slept with Mark-in his
She was looking for a vase tall enough to contain such elegance when Mark came in. With cool effrontery he picked up the card and read it aloud.
" Thank you, Josef.' Where does he get off using his first name?"
Rummaging in seldom-used cabinets high above her head, Pat found a tall crystal pitcher.
"We spent the night together, after all," she said.
"Hmph," said Mark.
Pat put the flowers on the table between the brown plastic bowl and the chipped cream pitcher.
"Classy," Mark said. "Inappropriate, but classy."
"You've been seeing Kathy, haven't you?"
Mark dropped the spoon he had been playing with, and dived under the table in pursuit of it. When he came up his face was red, but that might have been explained by his upside-down position. However, one look at his mother's face told him the futility of denials.
"Two hundred years ago they'd have burned you as a witch," he muttered.
"Don't flatter yourself, you aren't that enigmatic," his mother said cruelly. "I should have known you were up to something; you've been so cheerful lately. Today's con versation with Kathy was just a little too fluent if you had seen as little of her as you claimed."
"And?" Mark raised his eyebrows.
"And, while I was searching her room last night I found a note-don't sneer at me like that, I had to do it, Mark! It was under the blotter on her desk and it said, 'Meet me at the usual place, midnight.' It wasn't signed; but I thought at the time the writing looked familiar. If I hadn't been concerned with more important things I'd have put two and two together long before this."
"We only met a couple of times," Mark mumbled.
"Where?"
"That old oak tree at the back of their yard. The branches go down almost to the ground on one side, and-uh-"
"I don't know what to say."
"That's a change," Mark said cheekily. "Hey, Mom, take it easy. I'm not doing anything you need to be ashamed of."
"The note had one other word. I didn't quote it because I didn't want to embarrass you."
Mark's eyes fell. "You sign letters that way even to people you hate. Great-Aunt Martha-"
"I do not meet Great-Aunt Martha under the oak tree at midnight. Mark, let's not play games. You know what I'm talking about."
"Yeah, I do, and I think I'm being insulted. Mom, let me handle it. I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?"
They ate in cold, unhappy silence. The velvety roses mocked Pat with their serene beauty and their promise of friendship. If Josef Friedrichs found out Mark and Kathy had met clandestinely-and in such a stupidly romantic, potentially dangerous place… Why couldn't they get together at a local pizza place or even a bar? But Pat knew why. Kathy was so closely supervised she could only elude her father late at night, after she was supposed to be in bed. Josef was wrong to treat a girl that age like a baby or a criminal, but his folly did not excuse Mark's.
III
Winston Churchill, it is said, conducted World War II on three hours of sleep a night, augmented by frequent naps. Pat was not one of the napping kind; her afternoon sleep always left her cross and groggy, fit only for an early night. She went to bed at ten. Mark's light was still on. He had been at his desk since seven, and when she glanced in to say a rather cool good-night she was softened by the evidences of scholarly industry. His desk was piled high with books and he was taking notes with furious energy.
But instinct prevails. Pat woke in the post-midnight dark fully alert and vibrant with apprehension. At first she could not account for her feeling of impending danger. The house was quiet except for the usual creaking of shutters and thumping of radiators. Albert lay at the foot of the bed snoring and twitching, dreaming of mice.
Jud usually slept with Mark-in his
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