Free Warm Wuinter's Garden by Neil Hetzner Page B

round shoulders that
reminded him so much of Bett’s.
    “It’s nice to have help.”
    In the elongated note of a foghorn Dilly
said, “Daaaaad.”
    “Deellliiiaaaa.”
    Dilly shrugged off her father’s mockery as
well as his hands from her shoulders as a horse would a fly.
    “When do the rest of the troops arrive?”
    “Pete said that he’d have the boys here
early. They’re bringing a tent. The boys want to camp. Where do you
want it?”
    “Let the young soldiers decide.”
    “Pete said Indians. They had a lot of
Indian-craft at the camp Gaby sent them to.”
    “Really? I wonder what kind? Narragansett?
Wampanoag? Pequot? Niantick?”
    “Daaadd. They’re probably generic. Beads and
bows. Arrows. Hatchets and horses.”
    Bett tried to catch Dilly’s eyes to stop her
before she caused her father to begin.
    “And violence. Killing, scalping, pumpkin
thieving? Savagery?” asked Neil.
    “Mother, Mother, you know Gaby lets those
boys get away with anything. And Peter, too. It’s a classic
divorce. The kids work both sides of the street. The parents buy
love with too many toys and way too much freedom. By the way, has
he been seeing anyone?”
    “He hasn’t said anything.”
    “Of course Secret Pete wouldn’t say anything.
You have to ask. Wait ‘til he gets here. I’ll find out.”
    Bett studied the shells in her lap. Finally
she said, “I don’t think Pete’s making the drive himself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The boys are getting a ride.”
    “Gaby’s coming?”
    Bett hesitated.
    “No. Bob.”
    “Who’s Bob? Bob who?”
    “The maitre d’.”
    “That Bob? Raoul Bob? The fairy godfather?
Jesus, Mother, what’s the matter with him? Giving those boys to
that…”
    Bett’s hard look stopped Dilly from finishing
her sentence.
    “Do you know he could lose his parental
rights? This family. This family. Why can’t he bring them
himself?”
    “He said it’s been busy.”
    “Well, that’s a switch, isn’t it? I thought
things had been tough. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
    Neil nodded quickly in the hope that they
could get past this part of the weekend. His nod changed to a
shaking of his head as he went inside.
    After acknowledging her father’s nod as her
rightful due, Dilly continued, “I don’t understand why it takes so
many hours a week just to go broke.”
    “I don’t think it’s just that.”
    “What? What else?”
    “I’m not sure, but I think the trouble in
Kuwait is bothering him.”
    “What? Is his PTSD, isn’t that it, or PSTD,
whatever, flaring up again? How long is he going to let this go on?
It’s twenty years. My God, the war’s been over fifteen. How long?
I’m not even sure I think it’s real. He should get out of
Provincetown. That’s probably what’s doing it. Everyone there has
some kind of initialed problem or disease.”
    Dilly held onto her fingers as a child
counting as she spelled out her list of acronyms.
    “P.T.S.D. A.I.D.S. H.I.V. A.R.C.”
    Bett said in a quiet voice, “SIDS. PMS. We
all have our initials, honey. I don’t think being angry helps. Your
brother went someplace very far away. Farther than any of us can
possibly imagine. It could take him a very long time to get
back.”
    “He’s missing his life.”
    “He’s not missing it. He’s just having one
different from what any of us expected.”
    Dilly looked to her mother’s face to see what
meaning had been intended.
    “What about Nita?”
    “Late on Saturday.”
    “Lise?”
    “I’m not sure. She said that something might
happen.”
    “Is the something the mushroom man? I can’t
even imagine how someone could want to get a Ph. D. in fungus. I
see fungus I just want to get a sponge and some bleach, not a lab
coat. Have you met him?”
    “No, no one has. I don’t think the one you’re
talking about is the same one. I think this is a new one. Lise said
he’s very interesting. Very nice.”
    “Mother, Mother, everything Dizzy Lizzy dates
is interesting. She’s like