Thelma laughed.
“This ain’t no joke, missy,” Mad Earl said.
“You put the grenade in a mason jar,” Dad said, beaming at his cleverness. “We remove the pin, put the grenade in the jar, and compress the safety lever. Then we bury it. When someone steps on it, the jar breaks, and kablooey.”
No one spoke. They just stood there, dogs barking in the background.
Mad Earl clapped Dad on the back. “Hell of an idea, Ernt. Hell of an idea.”
“No,” Thelma said. And then: “No. No.”
With Mad Earl’s cackle going full volume, it took a moment for Thelma’s quieter voice to be heard. She pushed her way to the front, then took another step, until she was standing alone, the point of the arrow. “No,” she said again.
“No?” her father said, his mouth squelching up.
“He’s off his rocker, Dad,” Thelma said. “We have children here. And, let’s face it, more than a few drinkers. We can’t booby-trap the perimeter of our home with buried explosives. We’ll kill one of us, most likely.”
“Your job isn’t security, Thelma,” Dad said. “It’s mine.”
“No, Ernt. My job is keeping my family safe. I’ll go along with stockpiling food and creating water filtration. I’ll teach my daughter useful skills, like shooting and hunting and trapping. I’ll even let you and my dad yammer on about nuclear war and pandemics, but I am not going to worry every day of my life that we could accidentally kill someone for no reason.”
“‘Yammer on’?” Dad said, his voice going low.
Everyone started talking at once, arguing. Leni felt the schism between them rip free, crack wide open; they separated into two groups. Those who wanted to be a family (most of them) versus those who wanted to be able to kill anyone who came close (Dad and Mad Earl and Clyde).
“We’ve got kids here,” Thelma said. “You have to remember that. We can’t have bombs or booby traps.”
“But they could just walk in here with machine guns,” Dad said, looking for support. “Kill us and take what we have.”
Leni heard Moppet say, “Could they, Mom? Could they?”
The argument re-erupted. The adults clotted together, went toe-to-toe, voices raised, faces red.
“Enough!” Mad Earl finally said, raising his skeletal hands in the air. “I can’t have this happening to my family. And we do got little ones.” He turned to Dad. “Sorry, Ernt. I gotta side with Thelma.”
Dad took a step back, put distance between him and the old man. “Sure, Earl,” he said tightly, “whatever you say, man.”
Just like that, the argument ended for the Harlans. Leni saw the way they came together as a family, forgave each other, began talking about other things. Leni wondered if any of them even noticed how her father hung back, how he watched them, the way his mouth flattened into an angry line.
SIXTEEN
In May, the sandpipers returned by the thousands, flying overhead in a swarm of wings, touching down briefly in the bay before continuing their journey north. So many birds returned to Alaska in this month that the sky was constantly busy and the air was loud with birdsong and squawking and cawing.
Usually, this time of year, Leni would lie in bed listening to the noises, identifying each bird by its song, noting the season’s passing by their arrivals and departures, looking forward to summer.
This year was different.
There were only two weeks of school left.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Dad said as he turned the truck into the school parking lot. He parked next to Matthew’s pickup.
“I’m fine,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
“It’s the security, isn’t it?”
Leni turned to look at him. “What?”
“You and your mom have been sorta mopey and glum since our last time at the Harlans’ place. I know you’re scared.”