"I think it's highly unlikely."

Sookie sighed a huge sigh of relief. "Well, I just can't thank you enough. And this wasn't nearly as scary as I thought it would be. I'm sure you've heard this before, but you're such a good listener."

"Well, thank you."

"And you must think I'm very rude. Here I am going on and on about my problems, and I haven't asked you a thing about yourself."

"That's perfectly fine, Mrs. Poole. I'm here to listen to you."

"Oh, before I forget, how much do I owe you for this? And do you mind if I pay you in cash? I don't want the people at the bank to know that I had to see a psychiatrist. They might not say anything, but you never know. I've enjoyed this so much, could we do it again? Same time next week, same booth?"

To his surprise, Dr. Shapiro found himself agreeing.

After Dr. Shapiro got back to his office, he jotted down a few notes.

New patient: Mild situational anxiety and very nice lady.

Mother of patient: Narcissist with mild to severe illusions of grandeur.

WAR.

PULASKI, WISCONSIN.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941.

BEFORE THE SUNDAY Ma.s.s STARTED, FATHER SOBIESKI HAD GONE TO the side door of the vestry and motioned for Stanislaw Jurdabralinski, who always sat in the first row, to come around to the back of the church. His altar boy had not shown up, and he needed him to fill in. It was kind of funny to see the five-foot-nine-inch priest enter the altar with the six-foot-four Stanislaw, wearing a black-and-white altar boy vestment that, on him, looked more like a blouse, but the ma.s.s came off without a hitch. After ma.s.s, the Jurdabralinskis walked home together, except for the youngest, Sophie, who always stayed and helped the nuns wash and iron the vestments for the next week's service.

Later that day, Gertrude and Tula were over at the Rainbow Skating Rink, practicing their routine for the big skating contest that was coming up, when Mrs. Wanda Glinski, the organist, abruptly stopped playing, right in the middle of "Blue Skies," and everyone wondered what had happened. A few seconds later, an announcement was made over the loudspeaker that the j.a.panese had just attacked Pearl Harbor and that the rink was closing. As stunned skaters slowly started heading off the floor, Mrs. Glinski began playing "G.o.d Bless America."

A few blocks away at the Pulaski theater, people were watching How Green Was My Valley, starring Maureen O'Hara and Walter Pidgeon. Wink's wife, Angie, and a girlfriend were seeing it for the second time, when the screen began to slowly fade, and the house lights came on. The theater manager walked out on the stage and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we just got word that the j.a.panese have attacked Pearl Harbor, and all servicemen are to report to their bases immediately." As confused people got up out of their seats, gathering their things and silently beginning to file out down the aisles, a picture of the American flag suddenly appeared on the screen.

Most of them had no idea where Pearl Harbor was or why it had anything to do with them, but those few who did were somber. One man said, "Well, we're all in it now."

Over at the church, one of the nuns came in and told Sophie that she was to go home to her family right away, but did not tell her why. When Sophie got to the house, Momma and the other girls had all gathered in the kitchen, and the minute she saw her, Momma grabbed her and held her close. Poppa was sitting at the table with his ear to the radio and kept shaking his head in disbelief as he listened to the same report repeated over and over. After a moment, he looked up at his wife with a stricken expression on his face. "Oh, Linka, we can't lose America. If we lose America ..." Then his voice cracked and the big strong man, who had always been their tower of strength, put his head down on the table and sobbed. All the girls quickly gathered around their father and hugged him, while his wife stood by, helpless and unable to do anything. She knew he was right. If America was lost, then there was no hope-not only for them, but also for the world.

FRITZI AND BILLY HAD just done an air show outside of Akron, Ohio, on Sat.u.r.day, and as usual on Sunday morning, Billy stayed in bed with a hangover. Fritzi was up and already downstairs in the hotel coffee shop when she heard the news from a bellboy who ran in the door and yelled, "The j.a.ps just bombed Pearl Harbor! It looks like war!" and ran back out, on his way to tell everyone in the hotel and up and down the street.

When Fritzi got back upstairs with his coffee, Billy was wide awake and sitting up. She sat down on the bed and handed the coffee to him. "Honey, have you heard?"

He nodded. "Yeah, some kid just ran down the hall, so I guess it's true, then?"

Fritzi said, "Yeah, it seems to be."

He took a few more sips of his coffee, then looked at her and said, "Well, that's it for me." He got up, showered and shaved, put his clothes on, and headed out to find the nearest recruiting office. Fritzi tried to call her family back home, but all the circuits were busy.

By the time Billy got downtown, he saw that a line had already formed, and the office had not yet opened, but one of the guys said someone was on the way. Billy was older than most in line, but he was more than willing to go. In fact, he couldn't wait. Like all the other guys that day, he was mad. How dare those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds attack America. Just who the h.e.l.l did they think they were fooling with?

THAT SUNDAY, AS THE news spread across the country, people who hadn't thought much about it suddenly felt things they hadn't just a day before. At the big hockey game at Madison Square Garden, after the announcement was made and as all the men in uniform stood up and started filing out of the stadium, headed back to their bases, everyone suddenly stood and gave them an ovation that didn't stop until the last man had left the stadium.

From that day forward, the National Anthem was not just something Americans had to get through before a game started. Now hats came off, hands were held over hearts, and the cheer at the end was heartfelt. They had just gone through one war and a Depression, and n.o.body wanted war, but now that it was here, there was nothing more to do, except get in there and win it as fast as possible.

Sunday night, Wink came over to the house with a teary-eyed Angie beside him. They sat in the living room with Momma and Poppa, and Wink, just a year out of high school and for the first time looking like a grown man, said, "Poppa, I hate to leave you to run the station, but you know I'm going to be drafted sooner or later, and if I sign up now, I have a shot at getting into the Army Air Corps."

Momma said, "But, Wink, Angie is going to have a baby."

Angie looked at Momma. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he won't listen to me."

Poppa looked at Wink. "You do what you think is right, son. Don't worry about the station. We'll get by."

"Thanks, Poppa, and listen, while I'm gone, can Angie move into my old room upstairs and stay with you guys until I get back?"

"Of course," said Momma. "We would love to have her."

"I can help with the cooking," said Angie. "I just don't want to move back home. I think I won't miss him so much if I'm here."

AT SIX A.M. THE next morning, Wink, along with almost every boy in his senior cla.s.s, stood outside the drugstore in the snow, waiting to be picked up by the school buses that were driving them to Green Bay to sign up.

Billy took his army physical in Grand Rapids and would have been 4F because of his liver, but they needed all the experienced pilots they could get and as fast as they could get them, so he and his bad liver were ordered to report to Pensacola, Florida, on December 15. In the next few days, he officially disbanded the Flying Circus and, luckily, was able to sell the planes to a flying school.

On the afternoon of December 12, Fritzi saw him off at the train station, and when he stepped up on the train, he said, "I don't know when I'll see you again, pal, so take care of yourself, and write me a letter every once in a while, okay?"

"I will."

As the train started pulling out, he shouted over the noise of the engine, "Hey, who's your best friend?"

"You are!" she yelled.

He gave her a thumbs-up, and that was the last glimpse she had of him. When she left the train station, the streets were packed, and she couldn't get a cab, so she had to walk back to the hotel in the snow. As she walked, she noticed a lot of the store windows had already been decorated for Christmas, and some had been left only half done.

She and Billy had been together for a long time but had made no commitments. She had realized that Billy was not the marrying kind, and evidently, neither was she. But still, she was already feeling a little lost without him. When she got back up to the hotel room, she saw the envelope on the dresser he had left. Inside was a hundred-dollar bill and a note.

Merry Christmas, Squirt. Buy yourself a new hat.

Billy Fritzi sat on the bed, wondering what she was going to do now. She didn't want to just hang around, waiting and doing nothing. And d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l, it wasn't fair. She could fly as well as most of the guys she knew. She had tried to enlist in the army and showed her pilot's license to the man at the recruiting office, but he informed her that neither the Army Air Corps nor any of the armed services would take female fliers.

"Why not?" she asked. "The plane doesn't know if it's a man or a woman flying it."

"Regulations," he said. "Now, if you could just step aside and let me get on with my business. We're at war, little lady, and war's no place for women."

One guy standing behind her piped up. "I've got a place for you, honey, anytime," as the other guys laughed.

Fritzi picked up her license and stuck it back in her purse and said, "Well, okay, if that's how you feel. It's your loss." As she walked out, she said, "So long, knuckleheads, see you in the funny papers." But she was mad and hurt, and when she got back to her room, she sat down and cried her eyes out.

She knew from the magazines that England and Russia were using female pilots to ferry planes, but here, it was a no-go. So that afternoon, she packed up her purple leather flying suit and the rest of her clothes and went home to Pulaski, just in time to say good-bye to Wink. He had been accepted into the Army Air Corps and was being sent to Scott Field in Illinois for training.

Now she had even more reasons to hate the j.a.ps. They had knocked her out of a swell career, Billy and Wink were gone, and she was stuck on the ground for the duration. It was quite a comedown. But flying and doing stunts was all she knew how to do, so after a while, she signed up for the job on the canning line, back at the pickle factory.

LUNCH WITH LENORE.

POINT CLEAR, ALABAMA.

IT WAS GOING TO BE A VERY HARD DAY. IN THE PAST, SOOKIE AND Lenore had a standing lunch date every Wednesday, and Sookie really couldn't put it off any longer without causing even more trouble. Lenore had already left a picture of herself in Sookie's mailbox with a note attached. "In case you have forgotten, this is your mother. Where are you?!"

Sookie sighed and looked at the clock and dialed the phone. After a moment, her mother picked up. "h.e.l.lo, this is Lenore. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, please?"

"It's me, Mother."

"Oh ... h.e.l.lo, you."

"How was your water therapy?"

"Very wet. Where are you?"

"I'm at home, why?"

"I thought maybe you had moved to China. Are we finally going to lunch today? Or have you called to tell me you have suddenly come down with some other mysterious disease?"

"No, Mother, we are going to lunch. Where do you want to go?"

"Oh, I don't care. You pick."

"Well, how about the Fairhope Inn?"

"No, I'm tired of that."

"Okay. The Bay Cafe?"

"No, let's go to the Colony. I'm in the mood for crab cakes."

"Fine. I'll pick you up."

When Sookie hung up, she noticed her stomach was hurting. Just the tone of Lenore's voice was already irking her last nerve.

LENORE SWEPT INTO THE restaurant and waved at everybody she knew. And as usual, if there was someone there she didn't know, she went over and introduced herself. As head of the Welcome Wagon Committee, she was sure they wanted to meet her.

When she sat back down, she said, "That cute couple over in the corner are visiting all the way from Canada, can you imagine? Anyhow, she was very nice and said she loved the color of my hair, and I said, 'Well, if one must go gray, it's just as easy to go silver.' I gave her Jo Ellen's number. Did you order my crab cakes?"

"Yes."

Lenore waved at the couple again and turned back to Sookie. "She really could use a new rinse. But look at you, Sookie. You're fifty-nine years old, and you don't have a gray hair on your head. Count yourself lucky, my girl. When I was your age, I was already completely white, but I think it's an English trait. Queen Elizabeth went gray early as well."

"So you said."

"As you know, I used to be a strawberry blonde."

"Yes, Mother, you have told me that almost every day of my life."

"Well, it's true. I was known far and wide for being the only strawberry blonde in south Alabama. At the Senior Military Ball, when they played, 'Casey Would Waltz with a Strawberry Blonde and the Band Played On,' everyone in the room stopped and stared at us. Your father was a wonderful dancer. We both were, and they played it over and over again. And all the other boys would cut in, and I remember one said, 'Lenore, dancing with you is like dancing with a feather.' But, then, I was always light on my feet." She looked over at Sookie and sighed. "Oh, Sookie, I wish you just hadn't given up on your dancing lessons."

"I didn't just give up on them, Mother. If you remember, Miss Wheasly told me it would be best for the cla.s.s if I pursued other interests-something I had a natural talent for."

Lenore made a face and looked away. "Mrs. Bushnell's daughter, Gage, is a prima ballerina in New York. That could have been you, Sookie."

"When every time I went up on a point, I fell over? I don't think so, Mother."

"I don't think you tried, that's all."

Sookie looked at her. "What?"

"Well, I'm very sorry, but it wasn't me that gave up a promising career to marry Earle Poole, Jr."

"Mother, what promising career? As what?"

"Oh, Sookie, you could have been anything in the world if you had wanted to. You had a real chance to be something, but no. You threw it all away to marry Earle Poole, Jr. I didn't have the opportunity like you did. When I was at Judson, I excelled in dramatics. Dr. Howell said that I could have been a professional actress if I had wanted to, and he taught Tallulah Bankhead, so I guess he knew a talented actress when he saw one. Of course, Tallulah's daddy let her do what she wanted, but Daddy wouldn't let me go on the stage. And it's a shame, really, because I always wondered what would have happened if I had. There's no telling what I could have done if I had been allowed to follow my natural bent. I might have gone straight from the stage to the movies, but I married your father and settled for being just a housewife."

"Mother, you were never just a housewife."

"Well, I was so. I cooked and cleaned and raised two children, and if that wasn't me, then who was it?"

"Mother, you never cooked, and you never cleaned."

"Well, I oversaw everything, and anyhow, that's not the point. That's why I pushed you to be something. But you just never had any ambition, and I don't understand it. You are descended from a long line of leaders. Your great-grandmother single-handedly saved the family home from the Yankees, and you are just content to sit around all day and fiddle with those birds. You will be sixty years old soon, and what have you done? If I told you once, I have told you a hundred times. You need to think about your duty as a Simmons, and at least try to accomplish something to be proud of before it's too late."

Sookie had heard this same speech a hundred times, but today was obviously one time too many. "Mother, just stop it. All that Simmons stuff is just a bunch of baloney, and you know it!" Sookie was stunned at her own outburst.

Lenore was shocked as well and just looked at her for what seemed to be a long time and then said, "I don't know what you mean, Sookie. It's obvious that you are just not yourself today, and so I am going home." Lenore stood up, walked out, and got into the car and waited.

Sookie, still a little shaken, paid the bill and went out, and drove her mother home in silence. When they arrived at her house, Lenore got out of the car and said, "Call me if and when you regain your senses."