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Show 10 gone off to the long stucco house where they slept, Vanda would sit at the table, drizzling " J ' s " for Joe onto her cornbread with honey. Cornbread=pane di granturco. The next afternoon she was s i t t i n g on the porch swing, scraping her sandals across the floorboards and watching the thick dark clouds d r i f t . At four o'clock she heard the roar of engines and saw the huge red combine lumbering down the gravel road at five miles an hour. The Indians were whooping and hollering, and as soon as the trucks stopped they jumped out and ran for the kitchen, ripping tabs off beer cans as they grabbed them from the fridge. They were a l l sunburned and f i l t h y , sweat streaking d i r t down their cheeks. "Birra," she whispered as Joe passed the swing. He smiled at her for the f i r s t time since she had come home. "Every harvest is the same," Joe said, coming back with a beer. He sank into the swing beside her, nudging her over with his filthy hand. "The minute the l a s t load's in, nothing feels better than a cold beer and a hot shower." Angela dropped her work boots onto the porch, rubbing her feet through thick grey stockings. "I never drive combine again," she laughed. "I take over kitchen, okay, Vanda?" Mr. Gnicht hugged his wife and took a swig of beer. "Let's a l l go to town and get drunk," Joe said, rubbing his arms. Vanda f e l t a sharp pain in her side. She rotated her hips, took a deep breath, and i t went away. She couldn't wait to get to town, |