The Four Winds

Elsa reached out for her daughter’s hand, held it for a moment, and then let her go.

The kids ran off toward the lake.

“It’s beautiful,” Elsa said.

Jack got the basket from the back of the truck. “The WPA built it with FDR’s funds. It put men to work and paid them a good wage. This is opening day.”

“I thought you commies hated everything in America.”

“Not at all,” he said solemnly. “We agree with the New Deal. We believe in justice and fair wages and equal opportunity for all, not just the rich. Communism is really just the new Americanism; I think it was John Ford, the director, who said that first. At one of the early meetings of the new Hollywood Anti-Nazi League.”

“You take it very seriously,” she said.

“It is serious, Elsa.” He took her arm, began strolling through the park. “But not today.”

Elsa felt people looking at her, judging her worn clothes and bare legs and shoes that didn’t quite fit.

A tall woman in a blue crepe dress walked past, her gloved hands holding fast to her handbag. She sniffed ever so slightly as she turned her head away.

Elsa stopped, feeling ashamed.

“That old bag has no right to judge you. Stare her down,” Jack said, and urged her to keep walking.

It was exactly the kind of thing her grandfather would have said to her. Elsa couldn’t help smiling.

They went to the edge of the lake and sat down in the grass. Ant and Loreda were splashing in water up to their knees. Elsa and Jack took off their shoes; Jack set his hat aside.

“You remind me of my mother,” he said.

“Your mother? Have I aged that much?”

“It is a compliment, Elsa. Believe me. She was a fierce woman.”

Elsa smiled. “I’m hardly fierce, but I’ll accept any compliment these days.”

“I often wondered how my mother did it, survived in this country, a single woman who barely spoke the language, with a kid and no husband. I hated how other women treated her, how her boss treated her. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You probably think she was lonely, worry that you weren’t enough. Believe me, I know lonely, and I’m sure you were the thing that saved her from it.”

He was silent for a moment, studying her. “I haven’t talked about her in a long time.”

Elsa waited for him to go on.

“I remember the sound of her laughter. For years, I’ve wondered what she had to laugh about … now I see you, here, with your children … I see the way you love them and I think I understand her a little.”

Elsa felt his gaze, steady and searching, on hers, as if he wanted to know her.

“Come in with us, Mommy!” Ant said, waving her over.

Grateful for the distraction, Elsa broke eye contact with him and waved at her children. “You know I can’t swim.”

Jack got up and pulled Elsa to her feet. They were so close she could feel his breath against her lips. “No, really,” she said. “I can’t swim.”

“Trust me.” He pulled her toward the water. She would have fought, but they were garnering enough looks as it was.

At the shore, he picked her up and carried her into the water.

Cool water slapped Elsa in the back, and then suddenly she was in the water, in his arms, staring up at the bright blue sky.