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Show 18-2 I realized, in one warm rush, how much I loved Andrew, how good it was to be able to sit beside him in the blue quiet of the afternoon. I thought of the question I had asked Grandfather, if it was better to die than to live with the pain and horror of Andrew's face. I knew now the answer to my own question. I could touch Andrew, could feel him hug me. Uncle Paul, I could only remember. "Do you think your mother will be all right?" he asked after a bit. "I think so. But she'll have to tell Grandmother and Grandfather. She won't like that." "No, I don't expect so. Maybe she could put it off." "Probably. I guess it was me mainly that thought the medal was important." When my parents finally came out of the hospital and found us, no one mentioned going to my grandparents. Mother thanked Andrew again, holding his hand in hers and finally hugging him to her for a moment. Father shook his hand. I told him I would see him soon. On the way home, Mother turned to me in the car. "Annie, don't mention any of this to your grandparents. Nothing that Andrew told us, understand?" I wanted to ask if she was going to tell them but decided not to. Mother's eyes looked very tired, the way they did when she had been crying. When we got home, she went right to her room and Father and I had a cold supper on the porch. As Father and I stood washing the dishes, we joked and laughed, easily, as we always did. But I could feel him waiting, letting me pick the time to talk about what we both knew was in our thoughts. But I didn't ask, I didn't want to make him remember all the things he would have to talk about if I were to ask about Uncle Paul. I was beginning to understand what Mother had meant when she said "dead is dead." Dead as a hero, dead as a crying child. One was the same as the other, So I let Father tease me and I teased him back. As we worked and talked, the evening melted away and the wind stirred the peony bushes under the window. |