Grace Above All (Fesler-Lampert Minnesota Heritage) by St. Anthony Jane

Author:St. Anthony, Jane
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2015-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

14

Grace peered into the car. “Dad, whose wreck is this?”

“Uncle Joe’s. I had to figure something out, since your mother stole the wagon.”

“I didn’t know he had a car that looked this bad.”

“Who are you eloping with, Grace?”

Grace leaned on the car’s window frame with both elbows. “This is Frankie. He lives next door to the cabin.” Dad seemed out of place here. Or maybe it was Frankie.

“How do you do?” Dad said, extending his arm to shake hands with Frankie through the passenger window, as Grace moved out of the way.

“Hello, sir,” said Frankie.

Dad’s hand slipped back into the car, which stopped rumbling when he turned off the ignition. He opened his door and walked around the front of the car to the other side.

“How are things going, Grace?” he asked.

“The usual.”

Frankie was almost as tall as Dad, Grace observed. But Dad was solid, with broad shoulders and a chest designed to repel an attack.

“You two look alike,” Frankie said, his eyes moving from Grace to her father.

“It’s the hair,” Dad said, running a hand through a reddish thatch that was a few shades deeper than Grace’s. “And the determined jaw. But you do like her face, even though it resembles mine?”

“Oh, sure, I like it,” said Frankie, looking trapped.

“What should I know about the cabin, Grace?” Dad said.

“Bernadette dragged us to see Hilda a few days ago. Polly saw crazy Gunda and acts as if that zapped her brain. Otherwise, things are pretty normal. We could use some more food. We ate at Frankie’s grandpa’s cabin last night.”

“I shopped on the way up. No one should starve for a while. I’d better get going. Nice to meet you, Frankie. By the way, where are you two off to?”

“Town,” said Grace.

“So,” Dad said, looking at his watch for a few seconds, “with a break for ice cream, you’ll be back by two o’clock, maybe two-thirty.” He winked at Grace as he lowered himself into the driver’s seat. “I never forget a face,” he said to Frankie.

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Mr. Doyle.”

The car started up and diminished in size as it moved away.

“Is your dad strict?” Frankie asked. “I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.”

“Serious, not mean.” Grace didn’t mention that Dad had never said anything about boys and remembering their faces before, probably because she had never been with one.

Five miles was an easy walk. The talking was easy, too. Frankie listened, talked, listened, talked, almost the way Grace’s friend Margaret did. This was the opposite of Chuck, whose main topic was himself.

“During the school year, I walked at least two miles a day—to school, home for lunch, back to school, and home again,” Grace said. “Next year I’ll walk twice as far to high school, but I won’t go home for lunch.”

The gravel road looked baked, as if pleading for rain to cool it off. Grace didn’t mind the heat, although the breeze was welcome.

“Five miles shouldn’t be hard for us,” said Frankie. “Our legs are kind of like our personal vehicles.

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