Doc administers a sedative. When he leaves, John charges Harry with looking after Wilma, and goes outside to find Jinny. She is up in her tree house and won’t come down. John has little energy for cajoling; finally, he just sits down at the foot of the birch, leaning his back up against its sturdy trunk, facing away from Wilma’s garden, toward the fir trees that line their yard to the west. He sighs deeply, feeling the ache of his knees, thinking, Someday soon I am going to die, too. Thinking, It is not true it is not true my son how can it be? Extracting the folded telegram from his pocket and spreading it open across his knee. There must be some mistake, this cannot be. With his little daughter twelve feet above his head, the rectangular paper held flat by his palm, he sits there long enough to watch the day fade away, the sun sinking and spreading its red light like fire between the trees.

Chapter 27

When he comes back [from the war] it may take a few years for him “to find himself”—it’s [your] job—not his—to see that the changes in both of [you] do not affect the fundamental bonds between [you]….

—“What Kind of Woman Will Your Man Come Home To?”
Photoplay, November 1944

THE MICKELSON HOUSE
502 W. First Street, Pine Rapids
Wednesday, July 26, 1950

It was in a dispirited frame of mind that Dolly, toting a book bag full of rags and supplies, boosted herself up once again through the parlor window and inside the Mickelson house. She still hoped that the house could become a home for her and Byron, but finding out that Wilma’s favorite son Chase had been killed couldn’t help but cast a shadow of doubt: Was it possible that there really was a curse on the house?

Walking home from the Ladies Aid meeting the previous afternoon, Dolly had crossed the courthouse green to the bronze statue of Chase Mickelson, which rose high above her head, resplendent in the summer sun. The artist had done a remarkable job creating Chase’s likeness; she recognized the line of his jaw, and the determined look in his eyes, from the photograph on the mantel in the big house. She reached up and rested her hand upon his sun-warmed bronze boot. CHASE GUSTAF MICKELSON, USMC APRIL 2, 1899-JUNE 6, 1918, read a plaque on the statue’s base. Below that, a plate had been added with the heading PINE RAPIDS HONOR ROLL WWII, five names standing out in relief, the bronze unbearably bright and new.