The Book of Knowledge by Doris Grumbach Read Free Book Online

from the surf. She thought of him as her savior in everything, forgetting Roslyn’s hard hands tugging on her hair at the same time.
    After the accident at the beach, croquet was the one activity that held the four children together during the long succession of late afternoons. They kept a running score that did not count for much, for victory seesawed between the two teams. Pulling their inept partners along after them, skillful Caleb and determined Roslyn felt they were playing alone against each other, in hand-to-hand combat. They were handicapped but not halted by their weak partners as they proceeded to ‘peg out,’ the term they had been taught for victory.
    Roslyn dubbed the series of games the Talkies Tournament and announced it would be held annually in the summer.
    In the dusk, hand in hand, Kate and Caleb walked home. Kate was full of compliments for Caleb’s accomplished playing; he was sympathetic to her valiant failure.
    â€˜You helped me a lot,’ she said.
    â€˜Not so much. You were just positioned right.’
    On the Mothers Oats telephone, Roslyn berated Lion for what she considered to be his willful awkwardness. Lion did not respond. He wished Roslyn liked him better.
    Then he thought better of his silence and shouted into the cardboard receiver:
    â€˜You might have won, without me.’
    â€˜Right. But don’t worry. I’ll win tomorrow. I’ll kill them.’
    She spoke loudly, not trusting to the wire to convey her determination. On their veranda the Hellmans smiled at their daughter’s resolution. Max Hellman sat back in his wicker rocker, his left leg thrust out before him.
    â€˜She’s a go-getter, that one,’ he said.
    â€˜I guess so,’ Rose Hellman said. ‘She sure likes to win.’
    â€˜Nothing wrong with that. I like to win too.’
    â€˜But you’re grown up, and in the market. She’s a child, a girl . Where will she use all that fierceness?’
    â€˜Maybe where I do. On the Street.’
    â€˜Are there any women brokers?’
    â€˜Not that I know of. Not yet. But who knows, there may be soon. Women can now vote and go to college. And look at the Yeomanettes in the Navy during the war.’
    â€˜Well, I can see Roslyn as a sailor, all right. But she’s too impatient to be a broker. Too … too cocksure, I mean to say’
    Max thought about this for a moment. Then he laughed and said:
    â€˜Well, no one is more cocksure than Lester Schwartz, God knows. And he’s sure a success.’
    â€˜And so are you a success, for that matter,’ said Rose. ‘But you’re gentler, thank God.’
    Max rubbed his aching stump, and then took his wife’s hand.
    â€˜That was a nice thing for you to say.’
    Rose: ‘Sometimes I worry about her. There’s nothing feminine about her. Sometimes I think she should have been a boy. Then she could grow up to be a man like Lester.’
    Max laughed. ‘Do you suppose Lionel should have been our daughter and Roslyn the Schwartzes’ son?’
    â€˜No, of course not. But still … heredity ought to count for something. There’s no sign of either of us in Roslyn.’
    â€˜Not true. She’s hard to manage. You always say I am.’
    Enjoying the evening breeze and their uninterrupted time together, they stroked each other’s hand. In silence they searched the surrounding darkness for one admirable characteristic of Roslyn’s for which they might claim responsibility. Across the way, Lionel’s voice had finally given out. It was quiet for a moment. They heard the children say good night to one another. An ocean breeze moved along Linden Street, bringing the odor of honeysuckle to the veranda. The little Amazon’s parents pushed their chairs close together and held hands in the consoling stillness.
    One Sunday afternoon, the last contest of wooden balls struck through wickets and against staunch posts ended