Friday night at dinner, Mrs. Follis said Daddy was coming to visit. She said it, then she looked down at her plate. She filled her fork full of black-eyed peas, like what she said was nothing special, so I thought maybe I misheard her, and she didn’t say that Daddy was coming.

But then Mrs. Follis said, "Two thousand miles, all the way from Yakima, Washington, to see you," and I knew I heard right. Mrs. Follis looked round the table at each of us checking to make sure that we appreciated how far Daddy was coming to see us. Then she said, "He expects to be here sometime on Sunday."

So, after dinner while Lindsay and I dried the dishes that Carolyn Follis washed, Daddy drove in his black car with the running board, drove all the way to Ava, Missouri to the Follis farm.

All through the day Saturday, while Mrs. Follis mopped the floors and Lindsay and I helped Carolyn Follis scrub the woodwork with rags dipped in hot soapy water and Pine Sol, Daddy drove closer and closer.

Saturday night lying in my sleeping bag on the dining room floor next to Andy and Lindsay and the dining room table, Daddy drove, or slept in his car, or maybe stopped at a motel, but ready to start off again early in the morning to see us in Missouri.

Sunday morning, as soon as I woke up, I sat up in my sleeping bag.

Lindsay didn’t move in her sleeping bag so I reached over and found her shoulder through the thick bag. I jiggled her shoulder and a corner of the sleeping bag flopped up and down on her cheek. When the corner hit her cheek she squinched her eyes, then she opened them.

"Lindsay," I said.

"What," Lindsay said.

"Daddy’s coming today."

Lindsay pulled her legs up under her, then she set up on her knees with the sleeping bag still all around her. She rubbed her eyes. Lindsay reached over and tapped Andy’s shoulder.

Andy lay half out of his sleeping bag with his head on the bare wooden floor. His cheek had a ridge on it, a mark made by the zipper of the sleeping bag, and his mouth was half open.

"Andy," Lindsay said, and pushed his shoulder.

Andy’s eyes opened all of a sudden, bright blue, but then they shut all the way again.

So I got out of my sleeping bag and rubbed his back, and kept saying, "Andy, Andy," until he finally opened his eyes again.

Andy said, "Is Daddy here?"

"Not yet, but we’re going to go outside to wait for him," I said.

By the time Andy had on his striped T-shirt Bobby came downstairs with Bobby Follis. Bobby Follis jumped over the last three steps like he always did landing hard on the floor. Bobby, my brother, sometimes jumped over three, sometimes made it over the last four steps. Four today. He stumbled just clear of Bobby Follis at the bottom.

Bobby said to me and Lindsay and Andy, "Let’s go wait for Dad."

We headed through the kitchen to get outside but Mrs. Follis stood by the stove stirring oatmeal, in one of her Sunday housedresses, the big gray one, light gray pattern on white, the color of oatmeal.

Mrs. Follis said, "Have some breakfast before you go out."

Bobby started to say something, his mouth started to open, then he saw her face, her lips pressed together tight like she wasn't going to hear any arguments and Bobby closed his mouth.

So, there was nothing to do but stop and watch her dish up bowlfuls of oatmeal, those big, solid white China bowls like in a diner Daddy took us to once when he took us out on Sundays, after the divorce but before we left Yakima. That day with Daddy in the diner the heavy white bowls made my cheerios taste better, taste special being served up in a restaurant, but it never worked with the oatmeal.

Bobby said, "We’ll eat it outside, so we can look out for Dad at the same time."

"And lose all my bowls and spoons outside."

"We won't," Bobby said, his hand on the back door, waiting to turn the knob. "We'll bring them all back in. I'll make sure of it."

Mrs. Follis held the wooden spoon that she used to dish out the oatmeal up in the air next to her. Finally, she set it back down in the pan. "Ok," she said. "Make sure you do."

With all of us waiting together like that I wouldn’t be able to slip off to the pigpen to dish my oatmeal out to the pigs, but it was worth the oatmeal to see Daddy.

It was afternoon, about the middle of the afternoon, burning hot. We’d been waiting since morning, inside for lunch, then outside waiting again. We sat outside, leaning up against the wall of the barn which had a good view of the dirt road that wound between the barn and the house, and also had a little bit of shade, a little bit of grass, not much. Mostly it was all dust around the house and the barn. Only over in the fields, not the planted fields, but fields between wooded patches, was there green, long grass, and small trees, patches of blackberries and gooseberries on the edges of the clearings.

Bobby, Lindsay, Andy and I, and even Bobby Follis sat next to the barn waiting for Daddy.

"There’s his car!" Bobby said.

I didn’t see anything but a little dust flying way far off.

Bobby stood up, pushing himself up with his hands in the dirt, then brushed his hands against his jeans, then pulled his white T-shirt out and used it to rub at his hands. He jerked his head to move the hair out of his face back in place parted to the right, and when that didn’t work, he used his right hand to wipe it out of his eyes.

"Sure is something," Bobby Follis said. He’d stood up too and now placed his flat hand above his eyes to keep the sun out. "Something is kicking up dirt out there."

Just what are you doing here, Bobby Follis. This is my Daddy.

But Bobby Follis went on acting just like he owned my Daddy, owned the wait while he drove up the road.

"Yeah," Bobby Follis said, "What kind of car did you say he drove, a black Studebaker?"

My brother nodded.

Bobby Follis said, "Yeah, that looks like a Studebaker, rides low, kicking up dust."

Lindsay and Andy stood up and started looking down the road too. Lindsay pushed her curly hair back and put her hand up over her eyes the way Bobby Follis did.

She said, "I can’t see it. Where is it?"

So I took her finger and used it to point to the swirls of dust that Bobby Follis said was Studebaker dust, and said, "There, do you see it now, where the dust is?"

"Kind of," Lindsay said, staring very hard with her blue eyes. So I showed her again.

"Oh, yeah," Lindsay said. Her fingers clenched the bottom of her white blouse. The blouse was too short so there was a space between it and the top of her red shorts.

"Me too," Andy said.

Andy was heavy but I could pick him up if he wrapped his legs around my middle and I braced my leg so he rested on my hip. I had to lean him out a little to keep his head from bumping mine and it made my right arm tired holding onto him with him leaning out onto my arm.

I pointed with my left hand. "See there," and this time it was more than a patch of dust, it was something black and maybe tires.

"Daddy’s Studebaker!" Andy shouted, and he jiggled up and down so it made my arm tireder to hold him.

Bobby ruffled Andy’s hair, his hair blonde and fine like Lindsay’s, not quite so curly, but with a reddish tint in spots like to the right of his part. Bobby took Andy from me and lifted Andy up onto his shoulders. "Now you can really see good," Bobby said. Andy laughed.

"Should be here in another couple minutes," Bobby Follis said.

Obviously.

The black car with the running board drove slow past the barn and pulled up on the other side of the road in front of the house. We all started towards the car, Bobby Follis running, Bobby, my brother, not running, because Andy was still up on his shoulders, just walking fast. Lindsay and I walking fast too to stay together with Bobby and Andy, all headed up to the driver side door, Daddy’s door.

Mrs. Follis must have heard the car sounds because there she was coming out the kitchen door, through the yard and around the car to Daddy’s door before anyone but Bobby Follis could make it there. Bobby Follis reaching the door just in time to stand beside Mrs. Follis.

I could see part of Daddy’s face, his brown hair, an eyebrow with a blue eye underneath, but the rest of him was hidden by Mrs. Follis way up close to the front car door.

Mrs. Follis said, "Well, hello there, Mr. Parks. Can I call you Lewis? Sure is good to meet you, Lewis."

She reached in the open front window for my Daddy’s hand so he couldn’t get out of the car, but sat there with his head turned towards her, and shook Mrs. Follis hand.

Daddy said, "Pleased to meet you." Then Daddy turned his eyes away from her to us coming up to the car now, but Mrs. Follis didn’t move to let him out.

"Well, you’ve had a long drive," Mrs. Follis said.

We stopped just behind her. Bobby lifted Andy down from his shoulders.

"I sure have," Daddy said. He took the keys out of the ignition and pulled up the lock on the door. He wore a short sleeve shirt and his arms were tanned brown and hairy. Daddy pushed the car door open enough to get out, so Mrs. Follis moved back. Daddy got out of the car then slammed the door shut.

All morning waiting for Daddy, half the afternoon, now Mrs. Follis stood between us and Daddy. We couldn’t just push past her to get to him. We had to wait longer, just look at him, until Mrs. Follis was done.

"You must be tired," Mrs. Follis said. "Let’s get your things and I’ll show you to your room."

Daddy looked around Mrs. Follis, at us, but Mrs. Follis didn’t move out of the way. We couldn’t get up close to say hello.

Daddy went to the trunk of the car and unlocked and opened the trunk. Bobby followed Daddy pulling Andy. Lindsay and I followed along with them. Mrs. Follis stood by one side of the trunk, Bobby Follis right alongside her, so we went to the other side.

Daddy reached in for his suitcase, tan colored with silver latches.

Mrs. Follis put her hand on it, "Here, my son can get that for you."

Daddy didn’t let go. "Just a minute," he said.

Mrs. Follis moved her hand away.

Daddy pushed the button to loosen the latch of the suitcase, and opened the lid. He moved his hand through the folded up shirts and pants, feeling for something.

He got it with one hand and set it down on the other, a soft brown leather pouch with a drawstring, his fingers wrapped around the bottom of the pouch like a softball. Daddy undid the knot of the drawstring one handed to pull the pouch open. He turned away from the trunk and looked at us kids.

Bobby let go Andy's hand, stood up very straight when Daddy's eyes landed on him.

Daddy reached into the pouch and pulled out a coin. He showed it to Bobby, then he held it up and showed it to the rest of us.

"See, kids. Silver dollars."

Daddy reached for Bobby’s hand, took Bobby's hand in his own bigger hands. He spread Bobby’s hand out, palm up, and put the silver dollar in it. Daddy reached back in the bag and brought out more silver dollars which he added to Bobby’s hand, until Bobby cupped his two hands together to hold them, then pulled up the bottom of his T-shirt to make a pouch to hold all the silver dollars.

Daddy's face was brown and a little bit red on his nose and one side. His voice started out loud, then got softer.

They’re for you kids," Daddy said. "I’ve been saving them ever since you left. Every time a customer at the service station paid me with a silver dollar I put it away to bring to you."

Daddy blinked his eyes like you do when you are trying to stay awake.

He said, "There’s thirty-two of them there."

Daddy put the drawstring pouch on top of the coins. Bobby held the coins in the pouch of his T-shirt up against his body with one arm, so he could use his other hand to put the silver dollars back in the bag.

Daddy said, "You see, I thought about you every time I got a silver dollar."

Mrs. Follis leaned against the back fender right next to Daddy.

"Well, isn’t that nice," she said. "Would you like me to take care of all that money for them?"

Mrs. Follis reached he hand out around Daddy, towards Bobby and the silver dollars. Bully put in the last shiny silver dollar and tied up the drawstring.

Daddy backed up against the fender getting out of the way of Mrs. Follis's arm.

Mrs. Follis's finger just touched the bag that she couldn't quite reach. Bobby moved his hand so the bag was out of Mrs. Follis's reach.

"I’ll take care of it," Bobby said. He stuffed the bag into his jeans pocket, part way in, pushed at the part that hung out of his pocket to get it the rest of the way in.

Mrs. Follis moved back away from the fender so she could get closer to Bobby, but Daddy stopped leaning on the fender then and stood up straight so he was still between Bobby and Mrs. Follis.

"That’s an awfully lot of money for a ten year old boy to take care of, " Mrs. Follis said to Daddy. "Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me put it away for him?"

Daddy put his hands in his pockets, shoved them way down. He didn't look at Mrs. Follis, but down at the dirt. He lifted his head back up.

"That’s okay," Daddy said, "Bobby can take care of it."

Mrs. Follis pulled back her hand but her eyes stayed on Bobby a little longer.

Daddy closed his eyes together again, then opened them back up. Little wrinkles around Daddy’s eyes. Daddy didn’t use to have little wrinkles around his eyes.

Daddy looked over at Bobby, then turned around and looked at Lindsay and me and Andy like there was something else he meant to say or do.

"Hadn’t we better be getting you to your room," Mrs. Follis said.

Daddy turned back around to the trunk of the car, shut the suitcase lid and pressed the latches shut. He started to pick up the suitcase, but Mrs. Follis said, "Here, my son can take that."

Bobby reached over for the suitcase, "I can get it," he said.

Bobby walked kind of funny on the way to the house with the big suitcase bumping against his leg, the big bulge in his pocket.

Inside the front door Mrs. Follis motioned Daddy to the stairway.

She said, "I’ve fixed you a room upstairs. Let’s get you all settled in."

Bobby Follis followed right next to my brother who strained to lift the big suitcase up a step. Lindsay, Andy and I followed right behind Daddy and Mrs. Follis. But Mrs. Follis on the bottom step, turned around to face us and said, "The rest of you kids just wait downstairs. Your Daddy will be back down in a little while."

All we could do was watch their backs until they all reached the top.

The stairway was empty, stayed empty.

"I'm thirsty," Andy said.

I got him a glass of water. Then I realized how hot and thirsty I was too.

I let the cool water run from the faucet awhile before I filled the glass for Andy. The water felt good after the morning and afternoon out in the sun. I filled two more glasses of water for Lindsay and for me.

From the living room couch we could watch the stairway door in the kitchen. I took a sip of my water then balanced the cool glass on my leg. My hair felt damp. Andy and Lindsay looked just as hot. I leaned back against the couch.

There was the sound of steps on the stairway. I leaned forwards towards the sound, but they didn’t sound like Daddy’s steps. They sounded slow and heavy like Mrs. Follis’s steps. But I leaned forward and listened hard to hear footsteps coming after Mrs. Follis’s footsteps. There weren’t any other footsteps.

The door opened and it was Mrs. Follis who stepped out. It wasn't Daddy.

Mrs. Follis closed the stairway door and stood with her hand on the doorknob. Her head was bent down and her brown hair looked damp. She turned towards the living room and just at the door between the kitchen and the living room she raised her head so she saw us.

She stopped walking and stood up straighter.

She said, "Lewis is just taking a bath and having a little rest before dinner."

He was supposed to come right back down. She said he would.

We stayed on the couch.

Mrs. Follis looked impatient. Her voice sounded angry.

"He drove straight through all the way from Yakima," Mrs. Follis said. "Didn’t even stop at a hotel at night, just got a few hours sleep by the side of the road. You surely can understand that he needs a couple of hours of sleep."

So we had to go outside and look for something to do like we usually did on the days when Daddy wasn’t here. But Daddy was here.

*

Food at the Follises was, most of the time, oatmeal for breakfast, milk with the cream skimmed off because they sold the cream, peanut butter stretched with coffee at lunchtime, white rice with sugar on it, black eyed peas or green beans for dinner. Greens sometimes. Greens were the worst, worse than the oatmeal, worse than the rice with sugar on it which slid down your throat quick.

Sometimes there was good food when Carolyn would make something sweet and Lindsay and I would help her. Chocolate, or blackberry cobbler or gooseberry pie if we picked the berries. One time Carolyn took us all out looking for roots for real root beer. Then she made it and it tasted good, but not like root beer.

Tonight there was fried chicken, green beans, potatoes and gravy.

Mrs. Follis had arranged enough chairs around the table for everyone. She put Daddy on one side next to Bobby. I was across from Daddy with Andy and Lindsay. The Follises, Mr. and Mrs. Follis, the three older Follis boys, Sonny, Carl and Fred, Bobby and Carolyn Follis were on both sides of us and at the ends.

"Um Um," Sonny said, "This sure looks good." Sonny, bright like his name, was taller than Daddy. He looked like Cowboy Slim in a TV show I saw once, but cowboys are different from farmers, even though they have cows on a farm.

"Just the thing after a hard day’s work in the field," Carl said. "You ever do any farm work, Lewis?" Carl and Bobby Follis were both dark, but Carl had bushy eyebrows that met in the center and Bobby Follis didn’t.

Daddy dished up some chicken, taking just a little, not a lot like he did at home in Yakima. The little wrinkles around his eyes were gone. Maybe they were just from being tired.

"Grew up on a farm," Daddy said. "My folks still have a place near Salem, Missouri. Did some sharecropping in St. Charles when I worked in the Ford plant near there, but I couldn’t make much of a go of it."

What’ya say, you mean these city kids got some farming blood in them after all," Sonny laughed.

Daddy smiled. The little wrinkles around his eyes came back when he smiled. He looked at the three of us across from him, reached to his side and squeezed Bobby’s shoulder.

"They sure do. They come from a long line of farmers. Bobby and Sandy were born while we lived on that farm in St. Charles."

I was born on a farm.

Wish I’d known that when Carolyn and Bobby Follis went on an on about city kids and farm kids, talking about city kids like we were helpless. Wish I’d known I wasn’t such a city kid after all.

"Well, Lewis," Sonny said, "What say you come swimming in the creek with me and Fred and Carl after dinner. What the heck, we could even take the two boys along if you think they could keep up with us."

Sonny didn’t say anything about me coming along. Two boys, meaning Bobby Follis, not Andy, for the second boy. Maybe Daddy would say that I could come too. Bobby was older, but he wasn’t much older, just one year and four months older. And I could swim.

"Sure," Daddy said, "I’d like that."

After dinner, after helping Carolyn with the dishes, while I waited for Daddy to come back I read stories from the Book of Knowledge encyclopedia. I planned to read the Book of Science, too, and learn all about the moon and the planets and rocks, but so far I just looked at the pictures because there were so many stories left to read.

Every time I finished a story I looked outside the living room window to see if I could see Daddy and Bobby coming back from the creek with the Follises.

It was almost dark when they came up the road from the creek. They were all bunched together and there was something odd about the way they walked. When they were nearly at the edge of the porch I could see they were all gathered around Daddy, holding onto his arms, holding him up while he stepped along.

Bobby Follis broke away from the group. He ran up the front porch steps onto to the porch, then he flung the front door open wide.

He breathed hard. It was hard for him to talk.

"He got stung by hornets," Bobby Follis said.

I went over by the doorway to hold the screen door open but before I reached it, Bobby Follis stepped back out on the porch to hold the screen door open like that was the most important job in the world.

Mrs. Follis ran out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "Who got stung by hornets?"

"Mr. Parks did," Bobby Follis, shouted from the porch. "He ran into a nest of them. They got all over him before he got away."

I'd never been stung by hornets but they were worse than bees and I'd been stung by bees, the sting like a flu shot when the needle has gone in easy, but then the medicine reaches the vein, and you'd forgotten how much it can hurt. Mama said when I was a baby I'd been stung by a swarm of bees so she always had me brush the bees away because she said once you were stung by a lot of bees you never got stung again.

The three older Follis boys, Bobby and Daddy all came in a clump, up the steps onto the porch. Daddy’s eyes were puffy and mostly closed.

Fred, the kind one, Fred who wanted to be a priest, said, "We’re just about there, Lewis."

Bobby said, "Yeah, Dad, we’re just about there."

Bobby walked next to Carl on Daddy’s left side. Sonny and Fred were on the other side. Sonny and Carl had there arms around Daddy’s back, holding him up, while Fred and Bobby were on the outside with Daddy’s arms resting on their shoulders. Daddy had his head down. He moved his legs like it hurt him, like he didn't think his legs would hold him up.

They came through the door and I moved out of their way.

"We’d better get him upstairs," Sonny said. They turned that way, and Mrs. Follis stepped aside.

"Better let Carl and me take him," Sonny said. "There’s not room enough on the stairs for all five of us."

Fred let go of Daddy's arm. He touched Bobby on the shoulder and Bobby dropped back too. But as soon as Carl and Sonny got Daddy a step ahead Bobby followed after. He reached his hand out to Daddy's back, but then he didn't touch it. Maybe Daddy was stung there and it would hurt.

Fred went up too after Bobby.

Mrs. Follis went to the stair well. She called up, "I'll make some baking soda paste."

For a long time the sound of their steps was on the stairs, feet stepping then dragging up each stair, then steps in the hallway upstairs, then a door opening. From the dining room I heard the sound of a spoon scraping the sides of a China bowl. Fred came back down and Mrs. Follis handed him a bowl of pasty white baking soda, and he went back up.

After awhile Sonny and Carl and Fred and Bobby all came down.

"How is he," Mrs. Follis asked. She had an apron on over her gray dress.

"Well, we got him to bed," Sonny said, "but he’s feeling pretty miserable."

Fred said, "The stings are on his head and face and neck mostly. Some on his arms, and on his back where they got into his shirt.

Fred touched my shoulder. Fred said, "He’ll be a lot better in a few days."

*

Daddy didn’t get up until the next afternoon. Then he sat on a chair on the end wall of the living room. He had a blanket wrapped around him, one of the scratchy kind. Daddy’s face was all swollen and puffy. His eyes barely opened. His face was a mix of red swollenness and white that might have been the baking soda paste.

He didn’t look like Daddy. He seemed like a strange person, so I told myself this was Daddy, Daddy stung by hornets.

I walked across the living room floor to get closer to him. My legs didn't want to go fast.

"Daddy," I said. "Are you feeling any better?" I stopped at the wood stove.

Daddy lifted his head, tilted it up so the slits where his eyes barely opened on the bottom were looking at me and it looked like he was trying to open them up further but he couldn’t.

Then Daddy started opening his mouth, moving his lips apart, but they were so swollen that even after he moved them they were still together, but he kept trying. Finally, Daddy said, "Yes," I think it was "yes", but he didn’t sound like Daddy. Then Daddy stopped trying.

In front of Daddy on the coffee table was a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs and toast. Daddy hadn’t eaten much of the food, but he picked up the coffee cup and held it in his hands. He moved it up against his lips and tilted it, but I couldn’t tell if he got anything to swallow or not.

I decided that talking wasn’t such a good idea so I went over to the bookcase and got book 11 of the Book of Knowledge. The couch by the window was close enough to see Daddy and hear Daddy, but not so close that anybody had to talk.

Mrs. Follis came in, but not in her special Sunday gray housedress anymore, just in an everyday one, and her hair wasn’t combed as nice as it was the day before. She walked straight to the coffee table and picked up the plate of eggs and toast.

She said, "Now Lewis, you really should try and eat something. I cooked up the eggs and toast special for you."

Daddy didn’t try to work his mouth open. He pulled the edges of his blanket to get it tighter around him. He moved his coffee cup to his lips and sipped it.

Mrs. Follis just stood there looking at him for a minute. Her face was always puffy like Daddy’s was now, only not quite as much, but now, right around her mouth it puffed up a little more. Her face didn't look like it hurt though.

"Well," she said and turned away swirling the skirt of her house dress as she turned.

The next day and the next and the next were just the same with Daddy in a chair with the blanket wrapped around him, barely moving in all that time. Mrs. Follis telling Daddy he should be eating more. Andy and Lindsay coming right over to the edge of the living room, looking at Daddy, then sometimes looking over at me on the couch, but never going over to Daddy. I think he was too strange for them.

Bobby brought fresh coffee, held it up to Daddy's lips so Daddy could sip it easier. When he tilted the cup by Daddy's lips, Daddy took three or four sips before he stopped. Then Bobby set down the coffee cup on the table by Daddy.

The shape of Bobby's eyes when he was serious and he talked was just the same shape as Daddy's eyes when they weren't all swollen up with hornet stings, a little narrow like almond shapes.

Bobby said, "Anytime you want some more coffee, Daddy, I can help you drink it."

On the night before Daddy had to leave I came in from outside, through the living room door. Daddy was still over there in his spot in the big chair, but his face didn’t look quite so bad, not so puffy. His eyes were more opened. The eyes that looked out looked like Daddy’s eyes.

I couldn't tell if he saw me. Maybe he was still too sick to talk.

I walked really slow and stopped before I reached the couch.

If I didn't look beneath his eyes then his face was Daddy's face, just a little swollen so there was no sign of those little wrinkles around his eyes that came when he was tired or laughing.

But he wasn't laughing. He probably wasn't tired.

A few more steps and I stood by the coffee table.

Daddy lifted his head. His head seemed heavy so it was a struggle for him to lift his head. He looked up at me. His lips moved apart a little.

"Hi, Sandy," Daddy said. It was like his swollen lips and tongue had to force the words out, so they came out slower than normal. "How are you doing?"

"I’m fine," I said. "Do the hornet stings still hurt?" I stepped from the coffee table to right in front of Daddy.

"Not so bad." Daddy looked like he tried to smile but his face didn’t move much. Daddy's short black hair, the shape of his eyes, just the same as in Yakima. The way he said, "Sandy," slower but still the same, saying who I was.

Then it was like when we wrote letters to Mama, and the first lines were easy, "Dear Mama, How are you. I am fine."

But then I'd stare at the paper wondering what else to say. I knew there were things, lot of things, things I would say to her during the day if she were there, but staring at the paper I couldn't remember them.

What else to say here to Daddy.

Maybe, if he said something else, even my name one more time then I'd remember all the things to say.

But he didn't. His head dropped back down.

Nothing came out of me either. I waited for something. Then I reached over to Daddy's knee where I didn't think he'd been stung, and stroked the scratchy blanket with my finger.

Back in Yakima before the divorce, at night before we went to sleep was the time that Daddy came in our bedroom, after Mama, to give us a kiss and hug good night. After Daddy came was when it was really time to go to sleep. Even though we didn't have a bedroom, even though we didn't have a bed, if not for the hornets Daddy might have knelt down beside our sleeping bags and said good night while we were all here at the Follises.

I scooted down in my sleeping bag, even my head to shut out the living room light. This was the last night that Daddy was here with us. Tomorrow Daddy would be in the black car with the running board driving farther and farther away from us.

In the morning I heard voices, Daddy’s voice coming from the table near where my sleeping bag was laid out. I reached for my shoes and socks, then got my jean jacket off the hook by the door because it was chilly, and rolled up my sleeping bag and set it against the wall out of the way.

Sonny and Fred and Carl sat on the bench on one side of the table and Mr. Follis and Daddy and Bobby sat on the other. Sonny stopped in the middle of taking a bite of pancake and said, "Thought you’d never wake up, sleepy head."

Daddy turned around to see me and said, "Surprised anyone can sleep through all the racket we’re making." Daddy smiled at me and his eyes got wrinkles around them when he smiled, his face barely swollen at all now. He said, "Thought I’d wait awhile before I woke you to say goodbye, let you get your rest. It’s pretty early in the morning."

"Chickens are barely up," Carl said. "Cows are waiting to be milked though." He stepped out from the bench."

"You want to get up here and have some pancakes with me?" Daddy asked.

I got up in Carl’s place, right across from Daddy. Carl took his plate away to the kitchen and brought me back some silverware and a clean plate with a pancake on it.

"Here you go, fresh off the griddle," Carl said, then he want back out to the kitchen and the door opened and shut as he went out to the barn.

Daddy said, "Can I help you with that?"

I didn’t need help but I said yes, so Daddy buttered the pancake and poured syrup over the top.

Mrs. Follis came in with a whole plate of pancakes, so Daddy took one of them and put it on my plate and said, "Here, we’ll get you one for later."

Daddy ate two more pancakes himself, so he’d gotten his appetite back.

Mr. Follis slid his thumb along the edge of the bib of his overalls and tapped the bottom of his empty mug on the red checked plastic tablecloth. He said to Sonny and Fred, "You boys through? We’d best be milking those cows too and getting out to the field."

He slid off the edge of the bench. Mr. Follis turned to Daddy.

"It's been good to meet you, Lewis. Sorry you had that run in with those hornets." He held out his hand and Daddy shook it. Sonny and Fred got up from the table and followed Mr. Follis out the door.

At the door Sonny said, all cheery like, "You take care of yourself now, Lewis." But Fred just said, "Bye, Lewis," before he pulled the door closed.

Daddy stopped eating and rested his arms on the table. His voice was real quiet like he was still being careful not to wake anyone, but he said, "Maybe we could get the other kids up now."

I got down from the bench and went over to Lindsay’s sleeping bag. Bobby was over by Andy’s sleeping bag, shaking him awake. Once Lindsay was up I helped her roll up her sleeping bag, and Daddy went to the kitchen to check on pancakes for Lindsay and Andy. Bobby helped Andy get his clothes on and rolled up Andy’s sleeping bag for him. Andy's clothes looked dry for once.

Daddy came back from the kitchen with plates, the top plate filled with pancakes and silverware. Daddy set it all down on the table and all of us got up on the benches. Bobby helped Andy up on the bench beside him. Daddy put butter and syrup on pancakes for Andy and Lindsay and cut Andy’s pancake up into bite size pieces.

Mrs. Follis was in the kitchen. Carolyn and Bobby Follis were still asleep. Mr. Follis and the older Follis boys were still in the barn. But we were all here, Daddy, Andy, Lindsay, Bobby and me, everyone but Mama. There were no Follises with us.

Daddy wasn’t eating anymore. Instead he watched us eat, looking at Bobby, then at Andy, then at me, then at Lindsay, each of us for a long time. He had his hand on the handle of his coffee cup but he didn't pick it up to drink.

Daddy said, "Shouldn’t be long now before your mother comes to get you. Hope it won’t be this long before I get to see you all again."

Daddy said, "Sorry I didn’t get to do too much with you."

Bobby put his hand over on Daddy’s arm. "It’s ok, Dad. It wasn’t your fault."

Daddy wiped his forehead with his arm. Daddy's voice was quiet even though we were all awake now. "I know," he said. "It's just that I planned to do so much with you. I took all the vacation that I had."

Andy rubbed his eyes. "Daddy going back to Yakima?" he asked.

Daddy said, "Yes, I’ve got to take off here in just a little bit. I have to get back to my job."

But not quite yet. We all kept eating, with sounds of forks scraping the plates, and cups of milk picked up and put down. The darkness through the kitchen window was less dark now. Daddy drank coffee and watched us eat. Just us, together.

As we each finished eating Daddy stacked up our plates in a pile with the used silverware on top.

Andy didn’t finish his.

"You want the rest of his? Daddy asked Bobby.

Bobby shook his head no, and his hair fell across his forehead.

Daddy stacked Andy’s plate along with the rest, on the top of the stack.

Daddy waited for Bobby and Andy to get up off the bench, then he pushed it back away from the table and made a space for himself to stand up. He wiped his hands on his pants legs.

"You kids want to walk me out to my car?" he asked. "Better get your jackets."

Daddy walked like it didn't hurt him anymore.. I held Andy's hand. Daddy's suitcase was sitting next to the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen and Bobby picked it up. Lindsay came last. Daddy stopped at the kitchen.

Mrs. Follis was washing dishes in the kitchen sink.

Daddy put his hand on the table. H e coughed.

Mrs. Follis turned away from the sink.

Daddy rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. He said to Mrs. Follis, "I want to thank you for your hospitality."

Mrs. Follis dried her hands on a dish towel and took a couple of steps towards Daddy.

Daddy backed up one little step then held still.

Mrs. Follis said, "Well, you're welcome, Lewis." She smoothed down her apron, then she brushed a hand up against her hair.

She said, "I just hope you and your wife can work things out so you can get back together with these kids here before long. Not a day goes by that I don't pray for it."

Daddy's mouth started to open, but then he closed it without saying anything and just shook his head. Daddy reached for the door.

Outside when we reached the gate, Daddy knelt down on the walkway. Bobby set down the suitcase. Daddy waited for the rest of us to come around him.

He said, "You kids know, don't you, that the divorce is final. Your Mom and I aren't married anymore."

"We know, Dad," Bobby said. He put his hand on the suitcase handle.

"So you aren't letting Mrs. Follis get your hopes up." Daddy was looking at me.

Maybe my voice sounded softer than I meant it to. "No, Daddy," I said, but I had been. Mrs. Follis always said how she prayed for them to get back together.

"That's good," said Daddy. "But I'll see you again when I can."

It was getting light and there was dew on the ground and on the black Studebacker that was parked up next to the back fence where Daddy left it. Daddy unlocked the door of the driver's side. He opened the door and sat sideways on the seat with his feet outside. He took his keys from his right front pocket and stuck the car key into the ignition. He lifted his feet into the car, pressed his feet on the pedals and turned the key at the same time. The car started right up. Daddy turned back to face us.

"Got to warm it up for awhile," he said.

Andy let go my hand, walked over to Daddy and grabbed his knee. "My Daddy," he said.

Daddy picked Andy up into his lap. He reached an arm around Andy to the keys and turned the car off. Then he just kept both arms around Andy.

"Don't go to Yakima, Daddy," Andy said.

"I've got to go," Daddy said, "but I'll miss you." Daddy kissed Andy on the top of Andy head.

Bobby said, "We'll miss you too, Dad."

I said, "Yeah."

Then Daddy reached for my hand and he pulled me close to him, and he reached again to bring Bobby and Lindsay close too and he hugged us all together. Daddy kissed me and his cheek rubbed against mine, all scratchy like Daddy's cheek always was. Then he seemed my Daddy again, all the way my Daddy.

"Bobby, Sandy," he said, "now you know you're the oldest, so you watch out after the younger two, ok?"

"We will, Daddy," I said. "We always do."

"That's good," Daddy put his hand around my head and pulled it into his shirt. His shirt was soft, but his chest was hard.

"Kids. I've got to get going now." We moved away a little bit from him. Daddy handed Andy over to Bobby to hold, then he pulled his feet back in the car and turned the key again..

We moved further back and Daddy shut the door. Then he rolled down the window so he could talk to us. Daddy had his right hand on the steering wheel and his left elbow resting on the window opening.

"Your Mom will be coming for you soon," Daddy said. "But don't forget that she's been in the hospital and she'll be needing your help too."

Bobby put Andy down on his feet in front of him.

"Don't worry, Dad," Bobby said. "I'll remember. We'll all remember."

Daddy's voice sounded sad, "I know you will."

"Bye, kids," Daddy said. He had the little lines around his eyes when he smiled, but he looked sad. He started driving the car up past the house, drove it around so it was pointing in the other direction towards the road. As he drove past us he slowed down, held up his left hand and waved. We waved back. We stood watching the car, the black Studebacker, as it got farther and farther away. It was getting light and I could still see it a long ways away. This time it didn't churn up any dust. Later that morning I hunted for my brother, Bobby. I wanted to

Later that morning I hunted for my brother, Bobby. I wanted to find him without Bobby Follis around, and I'd just seen Bobby Follis headed to the pigpen with table scraps, so I knew that my brother would be alone.

I didn't usually go in the barn. It didn't have a loft you could climb up to like Gramma and Grampa Park's barn. It didn't have piled up bales of hay like a castle, and loose hay in a crib at the bottom that you could jump into like the barn of the man with a farm outside Springfield who was Mama's boyfriend for awhile.

I opened the big barn door part way, went inside and pushed it closed. There were rows of empty stalls in front of me - the cows were out to pasture. Over on my right against the wall were hay bales, stacked in rows several bales high, except the front row which was two high along most of it, a single bale high along part of it. Bobby sat there on a bale of hay, leaning back against another.

Bobby just sat there. He wasn't doing anything.

I sat down by Bobby. Bobby moved over to give me a little more room. He pulled his legs up on the bale and wrapped him arms around them. But he didn't say anything.

"Bobby," I said, "show me the silver dollars."

Bobby stood up and brushed the loose hay off his jeans. He walked to one wall of the barn, to a place that just had the bales two high against it. He pulled one bale off the other. Bobby looked towards the barn door and listened before he dragged the bottom bale out from the wall. He brushed away some loose hay so I could see the hole dug in the ground and the bag of coins lying in the hole. The leather bag was dusty with little pieces of hay stuck to it.

Bobby pulled out the bag, brushed it off and put it in his pocket, not all the way in. He put the loose hay back over the hole, then moved both bales back. He sat down on one end of the top bale and I sat down on the other end. Bobby pulled the bag out of his pocket , set it down on the bale between us and undid the drawstring. He pulled the opening of the bag apart so the bag was a flat piece of soft leather, a pile of silver dollars in the center.

Bobby picked up one of the silver dollars, rubbed it, then held it between his thumb and a finger.

"Here," he said, and I held out a hand.

Bobby put the dollar in my hand.

I closed my hand over it, warm from Bobby's rubbing.

Bobby said, "Every time Daddy got a silver dollar, he thought about us."

"I know," I said, and I sat out there a long time in the barn on the bale of hay beside Bobby, holding tight to the silver dollar.