Someone to watch over me

look lost,“ she said, pausing. “May I help you?“
    “Yes, please,“ he said cravenly, handing over his map with his destination marked.
    “You’re going the right way. Follow me. You’re Jack Summer, aren’t you?”
    He stared at her. “How did you know my name?“
    “We live in Voorburg, with my grandfather. I couldn’t let him come to this horrible place alone. He’s not in good health, and I knew he wouldn’t take his medicine if I wasn’t here to nag him. I’m Mary Towerton. My grandad’s Joseph Wyman.“
    “Oh, he’s a swell old man,“ Jack said. “Is your husband with you as well?“
    “No. He went off to work on that big Boulder Dam in Arizona or Nevada, one of those western places, months ago. We haven’t heard from him since.“ There was a frisson of panic in her voice. “Come along. Grandad will be happy to see you.”
    Jack was lying tactfully by calling Old Joe Wyman a swell old man. Old Joe was a lush and a bully, and this nice young woman must know it better than anyone. He was legendary for his violent rages and mule-headed ignorance.
    “Who’s in charge of the Voorburg contingent?“ he asked breathlessly.
    She slowed her pace for his sake. “Johnson Spelling. Corporal Spelling, he was once. Do you know him?“
    “Only by name. He lives outside town, doesn’t he? A bit north.”
    She hitched up the baby, who was starting to mewl like a frightened kitten, and said, “That’s right. I’ll show you to his tent, and he’ll assign you to stay with someone. Probably us. Everybody else has given up on staying with Grandad.”
    And so it proved to be, unfortunately.
    “I’m sorry, Summer,“ ex-Corporal Spelling said, with genuine regret, “but everyone else is too crowded already. I know the old buzzard is a real son of a bitch, but all our people have tried to get along with him and now it’s your turn as the latecomer. If anyone leaves, I’ll try to get you in their spot. I hear there’s a bunch from Beacon who are talking about going home because their crops need harvesting. Here’s a map of our section—latrines, mess hall, drill area, and the medical hut in the encampment next door. Keep it handy. And stay well away from Old Joe. He’s got a big oak cane and thoroughly thrashed the last guy I put in with his family.“
    “Thanks,“ Jack said weakly.

    Saturday evening, when Phoebe came home to Grace and Favor, she hunted down Lily. “I have a message for you. Mrs. White has called another special meeting for tomorrow afternoon. I guess she heard from her cousin about the truck store rules.“
    “Oh, dear. I was hoping it would take longer.“
    “I think everyone hoped so,“ Phoebe said. “I could tell her that you’ve already promised to help Mrs. Prinney with her garden. I’ll take notes.”
    Lily slapped her forehead. “Oh, dear. I haven’t had my conversation yet about the garden.“ Phoebe looked puzzled.
    “It’s nothing, really. Just something I heard that I’ve got to pass on to Mrs. Prinney, and she won’t much like hearing it. But I’d appreciate it a lot if you could take along my excuse to Mrs. White.“
    “I will. There’s really no point in both of us going, I suppose. I’ve got to shower and change for dinner.”
    Lily mentally girded her loins and went out to help Mrs. Prinney with the weeding. “May I help?“ she asked.
    “No, dear. You don’t know a weed from a lettuce.”
    The heavyset older woman was so red in the face that Lily was alarmed. “Go sit down for a while and I’ll fix a lemonade for you.“
    “We’re out of lemons,“ Mrs. Prinney said, heaving herself up with difficulty from her crouching position on her little gardening rug and putting both hands to her back.
    “Then some nice cool water, at least,“ Lily said.
    When she returned, Mrs. Prinney was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in the shade, fanning herself ineffectually with an empty seed packet. Her color was a little better.
    “I have something I’m going to hate telling you, but I promised to do so.“
    “Oh, dear ...“
    “When I was in town yesterday, Mr. Bradley spoke to me about you. He’s frightened that you’re setting a trend he fears others will follow.“ Lily invented a softer phrase he hadn’t exactly used.
    “What does that mean?“ Mrs. Prinney said, wiping her brow with a freshly laundered and ironed handkerchief she pulled from her capacious bosom. She kept a lot of things there: a small bottle of camphor oil, a