The Western Coast by Paula Fox

Author:Paula Fox [Fox, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780393342116
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company
Published: 2001-09-17T04:30:00+00:00

Chapter 13

It was to be, Walter said, a vacation, time out before the serious matter of settling down. She had never heard of Yosemite. He had gone camping there as a boy; he wanted her to see it because it was the only place he loved—as places went on this earth. They would stop near Merced to pick up camping equipment from his uncles who were sheep ranchers. They were his father’s bachelor brothers, but, like Walter, had no truck with Mr. Vogel, even though they were of the same stripe. When last he’d seen them, he said, they were forming an organization of ranchers to prevent Orientals from buying land.

Walter had not gone to Murmansk but to England, then to South America. It had been in Buenos Aires harbor where Walter, a Daily Worker gripped between his teeth, had dived off his ship and swum through the dark water to another American merchant ship to deliver the paper to a “comrade” in the black gang. He spoke of this feat frequently, with a satisfaction that appeared more piratical than political. There had been sharks in that harbor and foul patches of oil and dangerous patrols.

He was histrionically astonished at Annie’s ignorance of what had happened that summer in Europe; she welcomed his reproaches; they sheltered her from deeper regrets. Her confession of ignorance was vigorous.

Hadn’t she looked at a newspaper once? Hadn’t she known about Dunkirk? That the Germans were in Paris? That Italy had declared war on France? He frowned, shook his head, clucked. How had she managed to find such a decadent corner in which to dream away this critical summer? The job, she explained. He pushed that aside. Somewhere in her—he had known from the beginning—was an indolent dilettante. Why was she laughing? Oh, she was happy to see him! Ridiculous girl! The world was going to smash and she was happy to see him! She told him of the young man who had come to the drive-in one evening and wept copiously into his chocolate sundae at the fate of the churches of Europe; all that priceless stained glass that was going to be shattered by bombs, never to be replaced. “Sounds like one of your sort,” he commented.

“What are your uncles like?” she asked, trying to imagine herself as the young bride on her way to meet new relatives.

“They’re fat.”

He hadn’t been to the ranch for years and would have to feel his way. They followed a blacktop road for miles, then turned left onto a dirt lane with a high turf ridge which scraped the bottom of the car. A light rain was falling. They both leaned forward squinting through the windshield.

Walter cut the motor. The car’s headlights revealed a thick patch of bramble and tall weed. She heard the soft continuous tap of rain.

He led the way to a small shed and pushed open the door without knocking.

“Georgie! Herbie! Get up!” he shouted. They stepped inside, hearing the damp sad groans of sleeping fat men.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.