The Cider House Rules

"Do you want me to drive?" Homer asked; he had the window seat, and Candy sat between them.

"Why?" Wally asked.

"Maybe you want to hold hands," Homer said; Candy looked at him.

"We've already held hands," Wally said, laughing. "But thank you, anyway!"

Candy did not look amused, Homer thought.

"So you've done it, you mean?" Homer Wells asked them both.

Candy stared straight ahead, and Wally didn't laugh this time.

"What's that, old boy?" he asked.

"I said, 'So you've done it?'--had sex, I mean," said Homer Wells.

"Jesus, Homer," said Wally. "That's a fine thing to ask."

"Yes, we've done it--had sex," Candy said, still looking straight ahead.

"I hope you were careful," Homer said, to both of them. "I hope you took some precautions."

"Jesus, Homer!" Wally said.

"Yes, we were careful," Candy said. Now she stared at him, her look as neutral as possible.

"Well, I'm glad you were careful," Homer said, speaking directly to Candy. "You should be careful--having sex with someone who's about to fly over Burma."

"Burma?" Candy turned to Wally. "You didn't say where you were going," she said. "Is it Burma?"

"I don't know where I'm going," Wally said irritably. "Jesus, Homer, what's the matter with you?"

"I love you both," said Homer Wells. "If I love you, I've got a right to ask anything I want--I've got a right to know anything I want to know."

It was, as they say in Maine, a real conversation stopper. They rode almost all the way to Boston in silence, except that Wally said--trying to be funny--"I don't know about you, Homer. You're becoming very philosophical."

It was a rough good-bye. "I love you both, too--you know," Wally said, in parting.

"I know you do," Homer said.

On the way home, Candy said to Homer Wells: "I wouldn't say 'philosophical'; I would say eccentric. You're becoming very eccentric, in my opinion. And you don't have a right to know everything about me, whether you love me or not."

"All you've got to know is, do you really love him?" Homer said. "Do you love Wally?"

"I've grown up loving Wally," Candy said. "I have always loved Wally, and I always will."

"Fine," Homer said. "That's all there is to it, then."

"But I don't even know Wally, anymore," Candy said. "I know you better, and I love you, too."

Homer Wells sighed. So we're in for more waiting and seeing, he thought. His feelings were hurt: Wally hadn't once asked him about his heart. What would he have answered, anyway?

Wilbur Larch, who knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Homer's heart, wondered where Homer's heart was. Not in St. Cloud's, he feared.

And Wally went to Victorville, California--advanced flying school. U.S. ARMY AIR FORCES--that is what his stationery said. Wally spent several months in Victorville--all the pruning months, as Homer Wells would remember them. Shortly after apple blossom time, when Ira Titcomb's bees had spread their marvelous life energies through the orchards of Ocean View, Wally was sent to India.

The Japanese held Mandalay. Wally dropped his first bombs on the railroad bridge in Myitnge. Tracks and the embankment of the south approach were badly smashed, and the south span of the bridge was destroyed. All aircraft and crews returned safely. Wally also dropped his bombs on the industrial area of Myingyan, but heavy clouds prevented adequate observation of the destruction. In that summer, when Homer Wells was painting the cider house white again, Wally bombed the jetty at Akyab and the Shweli bridge in northern Burma; later he hit the railroad yards at Prome. He contributed to the ten tons of bombs that were dropped on the railroad yards at Shwebo, and to the fires that were left burning in the warehouses at Kawlin and Thanbyuzayat. The most spectacular hits he would remember were in the oil fields in Yenangyat--the sight of those oil derricks ablaze would stay with Wally on his return flight, across the jungles, across the mountains. All aircraft and crews returned safely.