He sits down with them, thinking that everything would be perfect if only he could silence the little part of himself that wishes Stuart were there, that"s dying to turn to Stuart and say, very quietly: at least she"s nice.

IN THE HOUSE Papa Louie is ready. Ready to be shaved! Ready to eat! Ready to schmooze a little! "I"ll sit at the picnic table," he says. "I"ll have a hamburger with lettuce and ketchup and a couple of those little pickle chips."

"That"s right," Miriam says. "And we"ll sit with you."

"No," he says, "I"ll sit alone. I like to eat in peace."

The sisters exchange a three-way look. "Whatever you want," Louisa says. "You know everyone"ll want to say h.e.l.lo."

"They can say h.e.l.lo after I eat," he says. "Well, miss, are you ready?"

Pansy moves a kitchen chair close to the sink, which she"s filled with hot water. "Right here," she says.

He goes over to the chair and sits in it, heavily.

"Want to take your shirt off, Louie?" Louisa says.

"That"s OK," Pansy says. "I won"t get it wet. You"d better take off that cap, though, so I can see what I"m doing."

He takes his cap off and holds it in his lap. Miriam looks at it, an old Giants cap so dirty and worn she herself can"t bear to touch it, and she surprises herself by thinking: Oh, let him.

Pansy dips her fingers in the sink to wet them, then wets his face. She shakes the can of shaving cream and sprays some into her hand, then she spreads it onto his face, little by little, gently, how he likes it.

She"s about to start shaving him when the door opens and in comes Lucy, followed almost immediately by Jeremy and Elias. They all stop just inside the doorway.

"Who"s that?" Papa Louie says; they"re behind him.

Louisa motions for them to get where he can see them, and they do. To Lucy she points at the ceiling and raises her eyebrows, and Lucy nods.

"Hi, Papa Louie," Lucy says, just as Jeremy"s saying, "Hey-Papa Louie."

"Who"s that?" Papa Louie says again.

Lucy and Jeremy look at each other.

"Your grandchildren," Louisa says.

"Whom you love," Pansy says.

"I know who they are," he says. "I mean that." He raises a shaky finger and points at Elias.

"Why that"s my grandchild," Pansy says. They all look at her, but it"s too late when she finally realizes what she"s supposed to say: whom I love. She feels herself getting teary, and she thinks that her sisters are right-she"s stupid and mean.

"Who needs to pee," Jeremy says finally, and they"re all so relieved they laugh.

"Well," Papa Louie says to Elias, "you"ve come to the right place, son."

"Listen," Jeremy says to his grandfather, "according to Stuart there"s some guy out there who wants to meet you."

"Out of the question," Papa Louie says. "I don"t want to meet anybody I don"t already know."

"Dad," Miriam says.

"I SAID NO!"

Everyone is silent for a minute or two. Finally Jeremy shrugs. "Fine with me," he says. "I just thought I"d tell him." He puts his hand on Elias"s shoulder, and Elias follows him out of the room. After a moment Lucy leaves, too-heading upstairs.

"Well," Miriam says uneasily. "Where were we?"

Pansy picks up the razor, but Papa Louie is getting to his feet-he pushes the chair away so roughly it nearly falls over. He turns and looks at her with something like rage. "No one," he says, "no one should ever tell anyone else whom he loves! I may love them, but that"s my business!"

The sisters look at each other and begin, each just a little, to tremble. But then it just drains out of him. They can see it happening, and they all think: Thank G.o.d.

"I"m sorry," Pansy says. She knows this is all her fault, but she can"t stop herself: in a small, weepy voice she asks, "Do you love me?"

"Certainly," he says evenly. "You"re my daughter."

Miriam and Louisa glance at each other. "And me?" Miriam says.

"Of course-you"re my daughter."

"And Louisa?" Miriam says. "Do you love Louisa because-just because she"s your daughter?"

Papa Louie wipes the shaving cream from his face with a kitchen towel, then puts on his cap. "No," he says thoughtfully. "No-I really love Louisa." He walks over to the door and opens it, and everyone outside stops talking and looks at him.

HER BACK AGAINST the wall, Ellen sits on the little iron bed in the bunk room and listens to Lucy"s footsteps going down the stairs: she just sent Lucy away.

She doesn"t want to talk to Lucy, to anyone.

She doesn"t want to hear anyone tell her that she should try to get over it.

She wants to be by herself, so she can think about her baby.

Her baby. In her mind, despite what everyone said, she named her baby-an extravagant, absurd name. Elizabeth Caroline Natalie Louisa McGee. If the baby had lived she would have had a simple name, but Ellen believes that, dead, she needs more names, stronger and better ones. Elizabeth Caroline Natalie Louisa. When she first chose these names Ellen felt like her six-year-old self, who wanted four daughters to name Sandra, Andrea, Diana, and Ca.s.sandra. She liked the fat letters then, a"s and d"s and n"s. She wanted four fat babies with red hair, felt she was owed them. What she got was one skinny, shriveled baby with a blue face, but it didn"t matter because she loved, loves her baby. She"s crying again now, but that doesn"t matter either-cry-ing or not crying, it"s all the same. Here"s what she"s learned: you can"t cry forever. At first she was afraid she would, but it"s not like that-you cry, stop crying, cry again, and each time it"s a little different, a slightly different piece of you falling away. She cries and cries, and she"s crying so hard now that at the sound of the first shout from outside she"s not sure she heard anything. She stops herself and listens: another shout. After a minute or two there"s another, and soon another. At the fifth shout Ellen"s curiosity gets the better of her, and she goes to the window and pushes aside the shade.

Down in the yard, Papa Louie sits alone at the picnic table. Everyone is grouped around him, and one by one Miriam and Louisa and Pansy carry the pear tarts to him, a single burning birthday candle held at each center. One by one he blows them out, and each time everyone roars with approval. To Ellen it sounds like this: Ah! Ahh! Ahhh! There are so many people down there: she sees her father and Lucy, Jeremy and Stuart, Uncle Don in his ap.r.o.n. Matt. And children-Ellen sees lots and lots of children. Yet she looks.

For support during the writing of this book the author would like to thank the Iowa Writers" Workshop, the Wisconsin Inst.i.tute for Creative Writing, and James Michener and the Copernicus Society of America.

Many thanks also to some willing readers and helpful critics: Jane Aaron, Fred Leebron, Kathryn Rhett, and especially Jon James.

Copyright 1994 by Ann Packer.

ALSO BY ANN PACKER.

The Dive from Clausen"s Pier.

Mendocino.

Nerves.

Babies.

Hightops Horse.

The Gla.s.s House.

Lightening.

Tillman and I.

My Mother"s Yellow Dress.