He had no hat. Three, four drops of rain splashed on his head. He set to cutting more canes, working quickly as the rain increased. After a few minutes he said loudly “I know you’re worried about Langley, Grampa. But don’t worry, ’cause we know the terrain. Von Clausewitz says the terrain offers two advantages in warfare. The first is that it presents obstacles to the enemy’s approach.” Will stopped working. He stood still, listening.
What he heard was Grace. “Will, not now. Not that.” Her scissors had also fallen silent. There was a steady whisper of rain.
Will said “Grampa? Are you there?” He waited, then cut a few more canes, then stopped again. He said “I can help you figure out what to do. I know the whole book. You know what else about terrain? The second advantage is that obstacles in the terrain enable us to place our troops under cover. Like these cattails, for example. If we were troops…”
Grace said “Will, can you come over here? Come and look at these plants and tell me if I should take them. I need your advice.”
There was silence, and soon the snick of Grace’s scissors. Will cleared his throat and said, louder “From all this it follows that we should use such obstacles on one flank to put up a relatively strong resistance with few troops, while executing our planned offensive on the other flank.”
“Will!” Grace said his name sharply but quietly.
Will cut a few more canes and then stepped forward into the pale tangle. He pushed the canes aside with the hand holding the scissors and dragged the quarter-full bag behind him. “Grampa” he called “where are you?”
Back at the edge of the cattail bed King whined.
Will stopped to listen. Grace was moving toward him. He said “You know what else, Grampa? Keep our troops covered as long as possible. That’s what von Clausewitz says. So, for example, if you were our troops and I was the enemy…”
“Will!” Grace’s cry was this time both sharp and loud.
Will stopped, looked around, looked back at the trampled plants, started left, stopped, stepped back, started right, stopped. He began to cry, but managed to stutter “Only pursuit of the beaten enemy gives the fruits of victory.”
Then Grace was there. She laid a hand on his shoulder. She said softly “Will, Will, Will.” He did not try to evade her. She said “King is worried. Let’s go back for a minute and see him. Your grampa isn’t lost. It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t hear too well. I see you’ve got a lot of canes. More than me. Come on, let’s go count them.”
They weaved back along the rough path Will had made. When they emerged from the bed of cattails King rose and put his front paws on Will’s shoulders and licked at his face, but Will pushed him down. Grace dumped her canes onto the wet grass. “Let’s count them” she said. But Will just let his bag fall, and tossed the scissors on top of it and stood looking back into the cattail bed.
Grace said “Will, don’t bother your grandfather about war. Not today. Don’t make him think about… well, death. He’s already…”
Will had stopped crying. He said, without turning to face her “He’s old. I need to help him.”
“I know you do. And you should. Only, sometimes we think we’re helping someone but really we’re…”
Will spun and shouted into her face, shouted in his shrill boy’s voice “He’s my grampa! Don’t you tell me what to say to him! Don’t you ever do that!”
Now Grace was weeping, suddenly, wildly, with her hand over her mouth. She turned and walked away a few paces and stood there sobbing. She let one hand hang limp. King went to her and nudged the hand with his nose. Grace sat on the sodden ground, wiping at her face with her hand.
When Will approached and squatted beside Grace he saw that from somewhere she had produced a half-full green plastic bottle of the potato hooch that his grandfather kept in the bottom cupboard. She gave a last shuddering sob, and he watched her unscrew the cap, take a deep swallow and screw the cap on again. She set the bottle on the ground. King lay down on the grass beside them. Will waited.
Grace said “You don’t know what day this is.”
Will shook his head.
“I guess it’s time you knew. I don’t think he’d want me to tell you, but I’m going to anyways. You know he keeps a calendar?”
Will nodded.
“He knows the year. He knows the month. He knows the day.”
Will said “Christmas is comin’. That’s all I know.” He put a hand on Grace’s shoulder.
“Yes” said Grace. “Christmas. Bonfires and singing and the men getting drunk. Have you ever noticed how your grandfather is never happy around Christmas?”
“No, I never noticed. He’s not? Every year?”
“Every year. Only, this year it’s worse. Because of… well… the way things are. In the past he’s always tried not to show it. He didn’t want to upset you.”
“People are supposed to be happy at Christmas. Because it’s the darkest day and winter will soon be over.”
Grace said nothing for some time. She appeared to want to speak, and several times made a sound or two. Finally she closed her eyes and said “This is the day your grandmother died. Forty years ago.”
Will said “Oh.”
Grace said “He never told me. Daniel Charlie did. And… oh Will…” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “It’s also the day your mother died. Five years ago. And the earthquake too. The earthquake was at Christmas. That’s why he’s… That’s why Christmas… That’s why you shouldn’t…”
Will leapt up and ran to the edge of the cattails. He called “Grampa! Grampa! Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”
“No, Will” warned Grace “It’s best to…”
Far along the edge of the cattail bed there was a rustling. King rose and pricked up his ears and then wagged his tail and finally saw Frost emerge and ran to meet him. Frost strode rapidly toward Will and Grace, with King prancing at his side. Frost was dragging his plastic bag, empty.
Will waited, then ran to his grandfather. Without slowing, Frost ruffled Will’s hair and said very cheerfully “Hey, what’s all the noise? I thought there was a riot. Thought I’d better come and investigate.” His face was luminous against the rain clouds.
Will’s face was as bright as Frost’s. He said “What’s a riot?”
“You don’t know what a riot is? I knew your education was deficient. A riot is a crowd of troublemakers. But it turned out to be only one boy. Imagine my surprise.”
Will laughed, turned to Grace. For some reason she looked desolate, ready for more tears. Frost said heartily “Yes, if I need a general in a few years I’ll know where to look, Will von Clausewitz von Terrain von Otherflank.”
Will laughed, an abrupt shriek. Grace shook her head and looked down at the ground but smiled slightly.
Frost said “Here. I thought of something. A little change from Clausewitz. Enough Clausewitz. Would you like to hear something about the principles of peace?”
Will nodded and leaned against Frost and almost put his thumb in his mouth. Frost placed a hand on Will’s shoulder and faced Grace. He said “Grandson, you’re not the only one who can fire off quotations. This is Shakespeare.” And he recited. “Sweet are the uses of adversity… da-da da-da da-da… and this our life, finds tongues in trees, books in the brooks, sermons in stones, and blood in everything.”
Grace again clapped her hand to her mouth. Will looked up, frowning. Like a snuffed candle the light went from Frost’s face. “Did I say blood?”