“I’ll write to Mrs. Valdez,” Eddie promised.

“Go with God,” said his mother in farewell.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

They drove up the coast. The night had turned chill and patches of fog swept in from the sea, obscuring the highway. Eddie began to yawn, to have difficulty keeping his eyes open. Above Santa Monica they came to an ocean­side park and campground. It was full of trailers and tents, but Eddie pulled in anyway, crowding the jalopy in among some squatty evergreens. Karen got out. She was shivering. She had no wrap of any sort. Eddie stripped the blanket off the seat, the old Army blanket Skip had used to cover the holes in the original upholstery. He spread it on the needles, leaves, and trash under the trees and then he and Karen lay down and rolled themselves up in it. Down here next to the earth, sheltered from the seawind, they were fairly warm. During the night Eddie was awakened by Karen’s crying. When he touched her hair softly it was damp with tears.

At about eight o’clock the clatter of the other campers awakened them. Eddie unwrapped himself from the blanket, helped Karen to her feet. Karen staggered, gained her balance, looked around. It was a dark, overcast morning, quite foggy and cold. She rubbed her bare arms with her hands, licked her lips. There was a grainy exhaustion and heat behind her eyes. Her mouth tasted sour and soiled. She thought suddenly of the big Havermann house, its quiet and its security, clean hot water and towels, food waiting to be cooked, and a sense of loss and desolation shook her. For the first time she seemed to see, in a material way, what Mrs. Havermann had given her.

She walked over to the car, not wanting Eddie to see her tears, and waited while he replaced the blanket on the torn upholstery. She noticed that Eddie had an air of confidence, of knowing what he was about, even of meeting a challenge, and this comforted her a little.

They kept headed north. When they got close to Oxnard Eddie said, “We’ve got to eat. We need every dime we’ve got with us, though. I’m going to try something.”

I need a comb and a towel, Karen said to herself. I never knew you could feel so dirty, just sleeping out one night by the roadside. I feel as if I could soak for a week. She closed her eyes; the thought of food didn’t interest her.