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Show in my father's house/ 171 exhausted. The boys cut ball practice" and Deanna changed her dress. When we sat down for supper, the house was vivid with excitement. The boys told jokes, and we chattered and sang as we cleared away the dishes. And then we sat, waiting. Sometime between eight and midnight he came, sneaking up the basement steps, whistling under his breath. I sat at the kitchen table so that I could see him first, shouting out, "Daddy's here!" as though I had sighted land. Always he brought something for us: cheese or margarine, honey or powdered milk, a bushel of fruit or a bag of potatoes - most of it donated by friends or family members. With the car unloaded, he sat at the kitchen table eating the supper my mother kept warm, and we clustered around him darting questions answered between mouthfuls, and hearing his news of the other families. I watched him change from one visit to the next: At first, fear made his mouth tighten, his posture unsteady. Sporadic employment bowed his shoulders and he spent much of his time trying to relocate the families: "We can't have everyone in Idaho. The law is bound to catch on to us. Joe Rosenberg has offered me temporary work in Albequerque and I'll need one of you girls to go with me to keep house." My mother glanced at Aunt Helga whose eyes widened. "I'm not going without Hannah. She needs me." Her chin lifted. My mother's head bowed, and she said, almost simultaneous- |