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Show in my father's house/ 197 think your father just took on too much." She sighed again and stared at the smooth collar she had just ironed. "Even if he was here, you couldn't be seen in public with him." "Why not? No one knows him." "You'd be surprised," my mother nodded sagely. "A lot of people know your father - people that neither of us would dream he knew. Church authorities, public figures, people from all over the West. Your father is the kind of man people remember." The next day, Saul told my mother he would go. On the evening of the banquet, I was dressed in my scout uniform waiting for Saul when he came out of the bathroom looking immaculate - one of his three shirts washed, starched and ironed, sharp creases pressed into his slacks, his hair clean and newly-trimmed by Aunt Helga. "You look so nice, Saul," I breathed, gazing up at him. He really was splendid. Becoming student body president gave him new assurance, a squaring of shoulders and something in his manner that my mother called style. "I won't be able to stay the whole time, Jeannie. I have a student council meeting tonight." He didn't look at me, and suddenly I felt shy and uneasy. He'd never held a student meeting at night, before. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to come and my mother talked him into it. I pushed my questions away. I had worked too hard for this evening to have it spoiled by my own imagination. He opened the car door for me. "Gentlemen should always open doors for ladies," he said smiling. But the soft interior of the car, the felt seats, the furred dice - everything echoed his discomfort. As we stood outside the hall, he gave me an uncertain |
