OCR Text |
Show in my father's house/ 182 I shook my head. But as he turned away, my voice reached out to him. "Robert? I think we're Mormon. Yes. We're Mormon." "Oh, them." He skipped off down the street and didn't look back. One day I was sitting on the front step, pushing a single roller skate around with my toe when Danny came around the corner with a double-sized stack of The Free Press under his arm. "Look - some kid gave me his papers. Want to help me sell them?" "Sure!" I jumped up eagerly. At last one of my brothers had asked me to do something without me begging to go along. "Should I change into my Easter dress?" "Naw." "You sure? I want to look nice." "Well, I don't want you to look nice." We started off. "Why not?" "We don't want them to think you're rich." The busy section of the gambling village was a few short blocks, As we walked, we talked about the changes in our lives since we left Utah. "I miss Daddy. And the other families," I confided. I kept my feelings pushed down so there'd be no chance of crying in front of Danny. We walked a distance, but he said nothing. "Don't you miss them? Don't you Danny?" He shrugged. "Sure I miss them. But there's lots of things here just as good. No reason to pine away." |