to come to Washington on the train with Grace.

Ollie and Emma have accomplished what

Mama, Grace, and I could not: the two of them

have brought our families together, almost

like we were before Frank and Ollie went to war.

Ollie invited Mrs. Norman over, so sweetly, Emma told me,

that she could not refuse, and Mr. Norman

said of course they’d come: We have a lot to celebrate.

Here they come now, crossing Crabapple Creek,

Mrs. Norman carrying her blackberry-apple

cobbler—I’ve been missing that these past few months.

Why is Mr. Norman carrying Frank’s banjo?

Grace, he says when they arrive, you’ve said

you’d like to learn to play an instrument.

This was Frank’s—we gave it to him when he

was not much older than you are. Now

we’re giving it to you. Mama’s hand

goes to her mouth—she glances up—

Mrs. Norman gives a brief nod

and they both look at Grace, who simply answers,

Thank you, Mr. Norman. Will you teach me

how to play it? Mr. Norman smiles.

Yes, he says. My father’s uncle taught him,

he taught me, I taught Fr—

I taught … my boy …

I’d be happy to teach you.

One Hand, Drying / Emma

One Hand, Drying

Emma

Muriel and I are in the kitchen with our mothers, frying

chicken, slicing sweet potatoes. Mrs. Jorgensen lays out her best blue

tablecloth, the one she brought from the old country. As we set the table

for eight instead of nine, we pause, but no one says Frank’s name out loud.

The men come in together—they have managed to repair the windmill. I pay

attention, watching how Ollie’s mother helps him when he needs it, without

embarrassing him. She cuts his food into bite-size pieces before she brings

it to the table and she moves his spoon to the left side of his plate. Things

I might not have noticed if … (Does Muriel know I’m thinking about

marrying her brother?) He glances over at me. He’s found a way

to wash his hand and dry it. Is he showing off a bit, proud

of the muscle in his arm? (Look, Emma, I’m capable.

I can carry two chairs in one hand.) Inviting me to

witness his accomplishment: one hand, drying.

Bluebird Stitched in Such Detail / Muriel

Bluebird Stitched in Such Detail

Muriel

After supper, Mr. Norman teaches Grace

to play Frank’s banjo—she learns quickly. Emma

sits beside Ollie, humming the tune Grace plays.

Mama and Papa are outside looking at the windmill

and I’m standing by myself at the window.

Mrs. Norman studies me. She’s holding

something white—clean, ironed, neatly folded.

Muriel? she says, careful not to interrupt my thoughts.

I have something for you. She unfolds the pillowcase

she’s been embroidering all these weeks—thousands

of tiny stitches, daisies and roses and butterflies,