Her grandfather had lived to be very old—over ninety. And he had died in the hospital, the flesh worn off his bones, suddenly refined of all the tough hard muscle in him and in his spirit. Only his eyes never lost their intensity. “Take care of Alice” were his last words to her, holding her hand in a hard grip. And that she had done. She had taken care of them all—her grandmother, her own mother, then Rufus, the children. She had done it and she had not been vanquished, but … what did it all mean? A hard life with loneliness at the end, and children who took everything for granted and went their own way.

Ellen wiped her forehead. It was terribly hot, stifling, up here in the attic. And it had brought her no comfort. The dead don’t help the living much, she thought. Only the living can do that.

Willard? There was Old Pete, who had never done a lick of real work in his life, lording it like a king out there on the green—and that was Willard, she supposed, at least to people like Christina and her children, who enjoyed him as a “character” and who could afford the taxes he and his like cost the town. But Willard was Hannah too, wearing herself out for love, a born giver, her poor knuckles swollen with rheumatism. And Willard—she had to admit it as she got up and went slowly back downstairs into the brilliant sunlight in the kitchen, and sat down in the rocker by the window—Willard was Christina. It was hard to imagine what life would have been like without that something grand, generous, the beam of light that had made a saving difference …

Where were the Chapmans anyway? It was nearly noon. As Ellen looked out the window anxiously, the big bus was drawing up with the American Legion Band in it. Nearly noon—greased pig, Chapmans, and the salute to the flag still to come. The conjunction made Ellen smile her thin smile.

The Ark felt more like one than ever when the Chapmans were finally assembled on the porch, Flicker on a leash tied to the porch railing so he wouldn’t run away, Mamzelle and Cornelius already settled in the back of Olivia’s car, John and Hannah handing baskets, thermoses, and paper bags down to Christina to put in the jeep.

“Alan! Comfort! Cathy!” Sybille called anxiously.

“They can walk down,” Bruno said. “Maybe have already, for all we know. Let’s get going!”

Marianne ran down to join them, bringing Bruno’s hat. “You’ll need it, Bruno. It’s terribly hot.”

“Mother, you come with us,” Olivia commanded. “John will drive the jeep down, and Hannah can go with him.”

“You’d think we were going to the moon!” Christina said as she got in beside Olivia.