“For what?” she asked as she scrambled his eggs.
“For not telling the board how I make you get up earlier,” he said. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“I didn’t,” Val replied. “But you don’t have to thank me. Around here, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.” She served Jon his eggs, two slices of potato bread toast, and a small bowl of strawberries. A claver breakfast. Sarah was probably eating pretty much the same in her kitchen.
He didn’t want to think about Mom’s breakfast, or Miranda’s or Alex’s. What did Val and Carrie have for breakfast? He’d shared a house with them for two years and had never seen them eat.
Had he ever been told their last names?
“Why aren’t you eating?” Val asked. “Is there something wrong with the eggs?”
“No,” Jon said, taking a mouthful to prove it. “I was just thinking. Are you from Sexton, Val?”
“What makes you ask that?” she replied.
“Just curious,” he said.
“I’m from Nevada,” she said.
“My grandmother lived in Las Vegas,” Jon said. “We don’t know what happened to her.”
“I got out early,” Val said. “My boyfriend was a geologist. We were out of there by the end of May.” She paused. “Four years ago,” she said. “It feels more like four decades.”
“Were you a domestic?” Jon asked.
Val laughed. “I was an assistant professor of philosophy,” she said. “Not a lot of jobs for philosophy professors these days.”
“But your boyfriend must be okay,” Jon said. “Geologists were selected. Does he live in Sexton?”
“He died from the flu,” Val said. “We were in an evac camp. I kept going east because I didn’t know what else to do. Then I heard there were jobs around here. They like domestics to be college educated. Carrie was a marriage counselor before.”
“Do you mind being a grub?” Jon asked, picking at the strawberries.
“I mind the term,” Val said. “It’s offensive.”
“But everyone calls you that,” Jon said. “Why be offended?”
“Everyone can call you ugly,” Val said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be offended.”
Jon stared at her. Val burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re not ugly, Jon. You’re a nice kid and you’re nice looking and I don’t know how we got onto this subject. Eat your breakfast, and don’t think so much.”
Jon took a bite of his eggs. He’d wait until tomorrow to invite Sarah. He’d had enough socializing with grubs for one day without having to hear Sarah go on and on about how everybody was equal.
Sarah wouldn’t stop talking on the way to the bus stop. The clinic was understaffed. It was impossible to give the people the care they needed. There were children with rickets. Did Jon know what caused rickets? A lack of calcium and sunlight. People in Sexton took vitamin pills and calcium supplements and drank goat’s milk while children in White Birch had rickets.
“Do you drink goat’s milk?” Jon asked. “Do you take vitamins?”
Sarah scowled. “Daddy makes me,” she said.
“And does he drink goat’s milk?” Jon continued. “Does he take vitamins?”
“He has to,” Sarah said. “He’s the only doctor for all the people in White Birch. It’s important for him to stay healthy.”
“Exactly,” Jon said. “That’s why clavers get goat’s milk and vitamins. It’s more important for us to stay healthy than it is for the grubs.”
“I hate you, Jon Evans,” Sarah said.
Somehow it didn’t seem like the right time to invite her to dinner.
Sarah was unusually quiet that morning, and Jon took advantage by inviting her and her father for dinner at his mother’s. He had to know by Saturday and waiting until Friday was too risky.
“My mother says you met my sister Miranda at the clinic,” he began. “You never told me.”
“I can’t talk about patients,” Sarah said. “But I wanted to tell you. I liked her a lot. She’s so proud of you.”
“She is?” Jon asked. It hadn’t occurred to him that Miranda thought about him at all.
“She couldn’t stop talking about you,” Sarah said. “How you’re great with Gabe and so good at soccer. How brave you’ve been, living with Lisa and not with your mother.” She paused. “I never think about it, what it must be like for you. I’d hate it if I had to live apart from my father. I’m sorry, Jon. I always tell you when you drive me crazy, which is practically every day, but I don’t give you enough credit for who you are, what you go through.”
“It’s okay,” Jon said. “I talk to Mom every week. And sometimes I see Alex, when he’s driving the bus I’m on. Besides, they want me to be here. It was their choice. Miranda insisted I take the pass.” Julie’s pass, he thought. What would Julie have wanted?
“Still,” Sarah said. She reached over, turning Jon so he was facing her, and then she kissed him.
Jon held on to her, trying not to think of Julie. He’d dated a few claver girls and enjoyed himself with plenty of grubber girls. He never thought about Julie, what he’d done to Julie, when he was with any of them.
Only Sarah. Because Sarah was the only girl he’d ever cared about. The only one other than Julie.
“Listen,” he said, breaking away. “My mother wants you to come to dinner. Any day you want. You and your father. I’ll be there. Ask your father, okay?”
He expected Sarah to look pleased, not just because it would give her a chance to go slumming but because it was his family and he was important to her.
Instead Sarah looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” she said.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jon said. “We’re not good enough for you?”
“No, of course not,” Sarah said. “I mean, of course you are. You know what I mean. It’s wonderful your mother wants to have us over for dinner. But Daddy hasn’t done anything since Mother died except move here and work. It’s been less than four months, Jon. It feels like forever, but it really hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s just dinner,” Jon asked. “He has to eat. Ask him, okay? Mom’ll kill me if you don’t.”
Sarah laughed. “I’ll ask him,” she said, and she kissed Jon again. “I’d love to meet your mother. I’ll let you know tomorrow, I promise.”
“Promise,” Jon said, and kissed her. But in the distance he could hear Julie crying, “No.”
“Daddy says yes,” Sarah said as soon as she saw Jon. “He thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Monday, all right? We’ll go straight from the clinic to your mother’s.”
“Monday,” Jon said. “I’ll tell Mom when she calls tomorrow.”
He tried to feel happy, but all he could think of was Mom’s miserable apartment. Sarah’s home—Zach’s grandfather’s home—was a ten-room Victorian with a wraparound porch, a greenhouse, and three domestics. Sarah might bandage grubs, but she’d never eaten with one.
“It won’t be fancy,” he said.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Sarah replied. “It’s family.”
Jon knocked on Val’s door.
“What is it?” she asked. “I’m leaving for the bus in a minute.”
“I know,” Jon said, handing her two books. “I took these out of the library. They’re philosophy books. I thought maybe you’d like to read them.”
Val looked the books over. “Aristotle,” she said. “William James. That’s quite the combination.”
“The library didn’t have much of a philosophy section,” Jon replied. “I know we keep you pretty busy, but I thought you could read them before you went to bed. You can keep them as long as you want. The library works on an honor system.”