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Show in my father's house/ 174 My father nodded. "Nothing good will come of it. I pray to God they're only rumors, that none of this is true. Meanwhile I'll have to bite my tongue and bide my time. It wouldn't do to accuse her wrongly. You know how LaVona would take that!" The mothers nodded sagely. Aunt LaVona had always been the jealous one. Any accusation would be regarded as proof that my father didn't love her. Then he spoke on a hopeful note about our Salt Lake property. "I didn't want to sell it, but how else would we have stayed alive? Still, the good Lord has given us a chance to save our home. The people who bought it are three months behind in their payments. I'll be able to foreclose." Regaining our Salt Lake property straightened my father's shoulders. He laughed more and no longer complained about traveling long distances to see his family. Then, too, he had been able to get work. "One day there'll be an end to this," he promised. "Soon we'll be together again on the old homestead." He usually stayed the weekend. Saturdays he took us fishing or we visited ghost towns, petrified forests, and Indian diggings. No matter what questions we asked him, he seemed to know the answer. And yet he was almost a stranger to me; his world became less and less my world. I edged beside him as we explored the Nevada countryside one day and he reached for my hand. "HelloP rincess." My throat was suddenly full. He hadn't called me that for a long time. He stopped at one point to show me how iron looks |