Some Luck by Jane Smiley Page B

agree—Walter’s mother, Elizabeth, said it must have come from Rosanna’s side of the family, and, not to be outdone, Rosanna’s mother, Mary, swore it came from Walter’s side. She was named after both her grandmothers—Mary Elizabeth. She had dark hair, but blue eyes. Walter’s mother said, “My grandmother had blue eyes. Blue eyes come and go in our family.” But the Augsbergers and the Vogels, when they all looked at you, it was like looking at the sky on a sunny day. Rosanna stayed in bed for two weeks after Mary Elizabeth was born, not because she was feeling terrible, as she had after Joey, but because it was winter and it was frozen and cold outside and there wasn’t much to do, anyway. Her mother stayed a week, and then Walter’s mother stayed a week, and all she had to do was nap and nurse and sample whatever the mothers had to offer, all varieties of oatmeal, of course, and that was delicious and so soothing, but also pancakes and dried apples boiled up in apple cider with cinnamon and sugar, or waffles (Elizabeth brought along her waffle iron). The happiest Rosanna was, was when she was sitting up on the edge of her bed, nursing the baby, and watching Frank out her window, bundled up to his eyeballs and playing in the snow fort her mother had helped him build in the side yard—the snow was deepand perfect this year, neither icy nor powdery. It was lovely to have the time just to look at the baby, at Mary Elizabeth, and watch her come alive instead of seeing her as a series of tasks and goals, the way she’d seen Frankie and Joey. Walter, too, was happy that it was a girl this time (“Maybe we’ll get a bit of a rest with this one” was what he said). And then Walter’s mother was opening the door and saying, “Rosanna, I made a little chicken broth, so warming. Would you like some?”
    FRANKIE AND JOEY WERE sound asleep—Joey was even snoring a little, which Eloise didn’t think a two-year-old would ever do—but Eloise was awake, listening to Rosanna and Walter in the next room talk about a used Model T, which Rosanna wanted Walter to buy but Walter did not want to buy. They had been talking about it for a week. Walter’s position was that he had just spent so much money on seed that, no matter how little the fellow was willing to let it go for, it was too much; Rosanna’s position was that she had twenty-two dollars of her own money, and she knew that Walter had thirty, and the car was five years old.
    “I grow fuel for the horses. How am I expected to grow fuel for the car? You want to drive it into town, you have to drive into town to get gasoline to drive it into town.”
    Eloise, who liked to drive to the pictures in Usherton with Maggie and George and had now done so several times, didn’t see what need Rosanna had of a car. According to George, a Ford was nearly impossible to learn to operate if you were older than twenty, but Rosanna was sure that she could learn, and in no time, too.
    “I could make better use of a tractor, if I had the money,” said Walter, and Eloise thought that he was absolutely right. The farm was three miles from town—you could walk there and back on a nice day. But she had to admire Rosanna, who never raised her voice or lost her temper or even wheedled. She just kept bringing it up, and if Walter got impatient, she would lower her eyes and pipe down. But, sure enough, she brought it up again. “Don’t bother saying no to Rosanna” was what their mother always said, “because it’s not going to get you anywhere.” Especially at midnight, thought Eloise, in themiddle of planting season. She turned over and put a pillow over her head.
    THINGS WERE EXPECTED from Frank now that he was almost five. Every night before bed, he was to lay his clothes for the next day out on the floor, just as if there had been a person in there (himself) and the person had flown away (or gone to bed). Then, in the morning, he had to put them on before he came downstairs