“Yeah,” I said, “but I didn’t mean for you to do it all right now.” First Nate saying he’d be leaving. Now Sam. And it was my own fault that Sam was going.

“They’re giving me a small scholarship,” he said. “Mr. Romsteder thinks I can get a job waiting tables and washing dishes at a fraternity house, and I’m hoping to find a rooming house where I can stay in exchange for doing chores.”

“That’s great,” I told him. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out. And your folks ought to be pleased.”

“I suppose,” he said. “Though that’s not the reason I’m doing it. Just the opposite. I’m still mad enough at them, I’d like to stay out of school forever to get back. But Mr. Romsteder’s helped me see that I’d just be hurting myself.”

“Cutting your nose off to spite your face,” I said. “I guess you would be.”

Sam wasn’t the only one who’d gotten news in the mail.

I pulled out a letter from Ma that I’d already read more than once.

Dear Moss, she’d written. I wished you might see how good things are here and you are a lot the reason. I know as you meant me to use your CCC pay money for the little ones and I have been, but with some of your extra leader pay I bought myself a dress and shoes not to be ashamed of.

Then I said to Mr. Willis at the Dry Goods didn’t he need somebody selling yard goods who can find the straight of the material. Goodness knows he has been making ladies unhappy with his cuts that make you throw so much in the scrap bag before you can lay out a pattern. He said he would try me in Fabrics and Notions, and business has picked up there so I am now on regular.

Also your Pa is now appered on the earth again, and is on the WPA, only in Calif. this time, so between all I breethe easier than in years. Not forgetting you pitched in when I was so worried how even to buy food. You are a good boy, Moss.

Yr loving mother, Bertha Trawnley.

I put the letter back in its envelope.

I’d forgotten how my ma could go on a mile a minute, breathless and happy, telling all the parts of a tale at once. I was probably the only one of us kids who even remembered her that way. But it was how she used to talk, before.

So, Ma was finally facing down the Depression.

I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for the chances Pa would stay on the WPA job, but she’d found a way to support herself and the kids. And I’d helped her.