Jacob Have I Loved

“She’s worse. The things she calls Momma…”

“Well,” he said, “you mustn’t take it to heart,” dismissing the years of aggravation with a flick of his hand.

The Captain greeted me with courtesy, but he was overjoyed to see Call. He embraced him almost as though Call were a woman. Men on Rass did not hug each other, but Call returned the embrace without any sign of embarrassment. I could see tears glittering in the old man’s eyes when at last he pulled away.

“Well,” he said. “My. Well.”

“It’s good to be back,” Call said, covering the old man’s discomposure.

“I’ve saved a tin of milk,” the Captain said. “Saved against this day.” He started for the kitchen. “Let me just put on the kettle.”

“Do you want some help?” I asked, half-rising.

“Oh, no, no. You sit right there and entertain our conquering hero.” Call laughed. “You heard about Caroline?” the Captain called.

“Yessir, and she’s everlastingly grateful to you.”

“It was Trudy’s money. Nothing would have made Trudy happier than to know she helped Caroline go on with her music.” There was a pause. Then he stuck his head in the doorway. “You been keeping up with each other lately?”

“I saw her,” Call said. “I stopped in New York on the way home.”

My body understood long before my mind did. First it chilled, then it began to burn, with my heart thumping overtime in alarm.

They were exchanging inanities about the size and terrors of New York, but my body knew that the conversation was about something far more threatening. The Captain brought in the black tea and the tin of milk, which he had neatly poked open with an ice pick—two holes on one side, one on the other.

“I’m guessing you can take the tea now,” he said, handing a chipped cup and saucer, first to me, and then to Call. “Not just the milk.”

“That’s right,” Call said grinning. “They made me a man.”

“So.” The Captain seated himself carefully, and compensating for the tremor in his hands, slowly lifted his own cup to his mouth and took a long sip. “So. What’s Miss Caroline got to say for herself these days?”

Call’s face flamed in pleasure. It was the question he had been bursting to answer. “She—she said, ‘Yes.’”

I knew, of course, what he meant. There was no need to press him to explain. But something compelled me to hear my own doom spelled out. “‘Yes’ to what?” I asked.

“Let’s just say,” he was eyeing the Captain slyly. “Let’s just say she answered her Call.”

The Captain gave a great tuba laugh, sloshing his tea out onto his lap. He patted away at it with his free hand, still laughing.

“Get it?” Call turned to me. “She answered—”

“I guess it took you most of the train trip from New York to work that one out.” Call stopped smiling. I suppose it was the bitterness in my tone. “She’s only seventeen,” I said, trying to justify myself.

“Eighteen in January.” As though I needed to be told. “My mother was married at fifteen.”

“So was my grandmother,” I said nastily. “Great advertisement for early marriage, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sara Louise.” The Captain was almost whispering.

I stood up so quickly that the room seemed to spin. I grabbed the arm of the chair, rattling the tea cup all around the saucer. I staggered to the kitchen and put it down, then came back into the room. I knew I was making a scene, but I didn’t know how to escape. How unjust to throw everything at me at once.

“Well,” I said, “I guess you won’t be culling for Daddy this winter.”

“No,” he said. “I’ve got a part-time job lined up in New York as soon as I’m discharged. With that and my GI Bill, I can go to school there.”

“What about Caroline’s school? Have you thought of her? What she’ll have to give up to marry you?”