Page 29 of The Singing Trees
“I like listening. I don’t play.”
Annalisa saw Thomas come out of the restroom. “Your brother’s coming back. Why don’t you come over sometime? We could paint, if that interests you, or listen to music, or whatever.”
“Really?” Emma looked like Annalisa had just handed her a bag of cash.
“Yeah, totally.” She patted Emma’s arm. “How else am I going to get the dirt on your brother? We’ll get him to drop you off.”
As the two girls attempted to hide their smiles, Thomas appeared at the end of the table. “What are you girls talking about?”
As Emma got up to let him in, Annalisa said, “Girl stuff. I think Emma might come over sometime.”
“What?” He turned to his sister and with a big smile said, “She’s my girlfriend. You can’t hang out with her without me.”
“Says who?” Emma replied, showing a flash of the confidence that she needed so badly.
They turned to the television as the commercials ended and the next capsule was drawn. Annalisa glanced at the American flag drooping in the background behind the men and women conducting the draft. She wondered if America would ever be the same again. Would it everreturn to the days she’d heard about from her family, the easy fifties after the Great War, when everyone was happy to be alive?
Another man drew the capsules now. He handed one over to the guy from the Selective Service calling out the dates. He peeled open the small sheet of paper and read it like he might read the fortune from a cookie.
“November 6.”
Annalisa lost her breath. She turned to Thomas, looking for his reaction as she studied his frozen profile. He was number76, a number that nearly guaranteed that he’d be called.
Before she could say anything, he took both Emma’s and Annalisa’s hands. “I told you guys. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry. I’m not going to be the first student at Weston to be drafted.”
Emma’s eyes swelled with tears as she said, “I hate this fucking war.”
“Me too,” Annalisa and Thomas agreed at the same time, awkwardly chuckling at her bad language.
Annalisa asked, “What if they stop deferments? They wouldn’t take away those who already have them, right? They’d just stop offering new ones?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Thomas agreed, sounding almost certain. “If you want something to worry about, Anna, think about meeting our parents.” He tapped Emma’s arm. “Right, Sis?”
Emma whispered, “Yeah,” as she reached for her Coke. Annalisa could see how badly the idea of losing her brother to the draft had bothered Emma, which was understandable. He’d stayed at home as opposed to enjoying dorm life just to protect her. It was quite possible that Emma loved her brother more than Annalisa ever could.
Looking past Emma, Thomas and Annalisa locked eyes. Worry colored his face, and it had nothing to do with the draft. It had to do with the love he felt for his sister. Eventually, he would have to leave her, and she’d have to learn how to fend for herself.
Breaking the silence, he said, “Actually, my mom asked about meeting you again yesterday, so I promised her next week. Is that okay with you?”
Annalisa slid her hand to Emma’s. “You’ll be there, right? From what Thomas has said, I’ll need some support.”
Emma looked at her. “I’ll do the best I can.”
Tenderness seeped into Annalisa as they put their eyes back on the television. Seven numbers later, her cousin Michael’s birth date was drawn.
Chapter 10
THECOUNTRYCLUB
A few miles past the quaint downtown of Davenport with its art galleries and seafood restaurants, and another five miles past the pristine grounds and hallowed halls of Weston College, stood the Davenport Country Club.
As Thomas found a spot in a parking lot full of fancy cars, Annalisa looked out over the snow-covered fairways dotted with tall firs and wondered if she might bump into a Kennedy or a Rockefeller here. When they climbed out of the VW, even the bitter cold couldn’t zap her nerves. Couldn’t they have met for a simple lobster roll in town? She worried her red holiday dress might not be fancy enough or her one-inch heels tall enough.
The main building was a white monstrosity with a seemingly never-ending porch lined with rocking chairs that made Annalisa think of words liketraditionandexclusivity. She wondered how many deals had been made in those chairs. Upper-crust Boston and Manhattan accents rang in her ears.
“How long have you worked here?” Annalisa asked Thomas as they climbed the steps to the grand entrance, which was flanked by two bronze statues of golfers holding the finish of their swing. As a gift to the Barnes family, she carried a white box with a red ribbon holding a panettone that Nonna had baked.
“I’ve been dragging bags since I was fourteen,” Thomas said. “Maybe thirteen, actually. This is my second home.”
