The Irresistible Henry House Part 41

"Okay," Henry said and took his place at a small matching wooden chair.

"Uppy?" she asked him.

"You want me to pick you up?"

He did, with one arm, and she slid onto his lap.

A wooden box with a sliding top sat on the table before them. Proudly, if with difficulty, Haley slid the top of the box back to reveal a riot of crisscrossed colors and the warm, waxy, earthy smell of crayons.

There was a stack of paper beside the box. Henry took one sheet for himself and another for her.

"What color do you want?" he asked her.

"Green."

He picked out a crayon for her. Spring Green.

She swung one leg freely against his, as if his leg was the leg of the chair.

For himself, he picked up Red. Just red. But as soon as he did, she took it from him, grinning. He laughed. "Okay," he said. He took a purple crayon next. She did the same thing again. Soon she held a huge bouquet of crayons, all the colors she could keep in her small hand.

"May I keep this one, miss?" Henry asked her, holding up the crayon called Burnt Sienna. She giggled and nodded.

From the kitchen, he could hear Mary Jane humming, but he couldn't make out the tune. Haley stayed on his lap, her entire face, her entire body, focused into one scrunched-up force of concentrated effort. She pressed her whole weight into the crayon, pus.h.i.+ng it back and forth.

Henry stared down at the blank paper. Stared and stared as he tried to absorb the words Mary Jane had said to him, and the ones she hadn't said. Tears, as unaccustomed to him as need or regret, filled his eyes. One fell on the blank page. Henry outlined it with his crayon.

"What's it?" the baby asked him.

Henry laughed. "I can't tell you," he sang softly, "but I know it's mine."

She stared at him blankly.

"Draw!" she said, just sweetly enough not to sound too bossy.

"What should I draw?"

Henry looked at her. With his crayon still in his hand, he watched as she drew and drew: crazy colors, scribbled, dotted, zigzagged, crisscrossed, filling her page and then, without hesitation or doubt, spilling onto his own. She drew lines, over and over, her little fingers clutching first one crayon, then another, making a glorious field of every-colored gra.s.s. Henry picked up one of the crayons she'd put down and waited a long time, watching.

"Draw!" Haley said again, and finally Henry started to draw-one straight line, then a second one rising up out of the free, wild, colored gra.s.s, two perpendicular lines, the width of his hand apart. It was so simple. Henry drew the third line-parallel to the beautiful ground-and in an instant those lines completed a rectangle sitting in an open field, and with windows, a door, and perhaps a chimney, they could become a house.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR .

This novel started with a real photograph: I found it, quite by accident, on a Cornell University website about the history of home economics. On the opening page of the online exhibit, among other thumbnail images, was the captivating snapshot of a baby with a beguiling smile and roguish eyes. I clicked on the photograph and learned that "Bobby Domecon" (the last name short for Domestic Economics) had been a "practice baby," an infant supplied by a local orphanage to the university's "practice house," where college students learned homemaking, complete with a live baby whom they took turns mothering.

I know!

The first practice baby arrived at Cornell in 1919. She stayed for one year, as did dozens of subsequent infants. Cornell's practice baby program continued until 1969, but it wasn't the only one of its kind. During my research for this book, I learned that there were practice baby programs all over the country, so literally hundreds of infants started their lives being cared for by multiple mothers. For the most part, the approach seems to have been viewed as one that benefited the mothers as well as the babies, who were considered prime candidates for adoption when they were returned to their orphanages. There was, however at least one case that drew national attention when an Illinois child welfare superintendent questioned what the effects of this kind of upbringing might be. My wish for an answer is what inspired this novel.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS .

For their encouragement and many insights, I am grateful to Suzie Bolotin, Barb Burg, Cathy Cramer, Liz Darhansoff, Sharon DeLevie, Lee Eisenberg, Frankie Jones, Jon LaPook, Kate Lear, and Kate Medina.

I could not have finished this book without the extraordinary kindnesses of Donna Ash, Richard Cohen, Marcus Forman, and Saud Sadiq, and I owe them my deepest thanks.

Michael Solomon not only encouraged, but inspired, informed, and explained.

Betsy Carter offered wisdom, brutal honesty, and limitless rea.s.surance, sometimes on a minute-by-minute basis.

I am lucky enough to live with not one but three gifted editors. The fact that two of them are my children only adds to my sense of good fortune. Stephen, Elizabeth, and Jonathan Adler are the irresistible forces in my life.

The factual background for this book came from many sources, including conversations or emails with Marty Fox, Sandra Leong, Floyd Norman, Priscilla Painton, Rinna Samuel, and Kerry Sulcowicz. In addition to thanking them, I'd like to acknowledge my reliance on the following sources: Up Periscope Yellow, by Al Brodax; by Al Brodax; Walt Disney's Nine Old Men & the Art of Animation, Walt Disney's Nine Old Men & the Art of Animation, by John Canemaker; by John Canemaker; Stir It Up, Stir It Up, by Megan J. Elias; by Megan J. Elias; The Girls Who Went Away, The Girls Who Went Away, by Ann Fessler; by Ann Fessler; Walt Disney, Walt Disney, by Neil Gabler; by Neil Gabler; Walt's Walt's People, People, vols. 1-4, ed. Didier Ghez; vols. 1-4, ed. Didier Ghez; Inside the Yellow Submarine, Inside the Yellow Submarine, by Dr. Robert R. Hieronimus; by Dr. Robert R. Hieronimus; Raising America, Raising America, by Ann Hulbert; by Ann Hulbert; Good HAIR Days, Good HAIR Days, by Jonathan Johnson; by Jonathan Johnson; Becoming Attached, Becoming Attached, by Robert Karen, Ph.D.; by Robert Karen, Ph.D.; The Good Housekeeping Housekeeping Book, The Good Housekeeping Housekeeping Book, ed. Helen W. Kendall; ed. Helen W. Kendall; Mary Poppins, She Wrote, Mary Poppins, She Wrote, by Valerie Lawson; by Valerie Lawson; Dr. Spock: An American Life, Dr. Spock: An American Life, by Thomas Maier; by Thomas Maier; Hippie, Hippie, by Barry Miles; by Barry Miles; You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, by Simon Napier-Bell; by Simon Napier-Bell; Household Equipment, Household Equipment, by Louise Jenison Peet, Ph.D., and Lenore Sater Thye; by Louise Jenison Peet, Ph.D., and Lenore Sater Thye; Opening Skinner's Box, Opening Skinner's Box, by Lauren Slater; by Lauren Slater; Rethinking Home Economics, Rethinking Home Economics, ed. Sarah Stage and Virginia B. Vincenti; ed. Sarah Stage and Virginia B. Vincenti; The Illusion of Life, The Illusion of Life, by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston. by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston.

Back in 2001, students in a Human Development course at Cornell University collaborated with the Division of Rare and Ma.n.u.script Collections to create an exhibit and website about the university's rich tradition in the field of home economics. The result (still available online) provided a fascinating glimpse into a fading world that included practice apartments and practice babies and inspired this work of fiction. I will always be glad that Cornell made this wonderful material so accessible.

PERMISSIONS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material: HAL LEONARD CORPORATION: Excerpt from "Runaway," words and music by Del Shannon and Max Crook, copyright 1961 (renewed 1989) by Bug Music, Inc., and Mole Hole Music (BMI)/Administered by Bug Music; excerpt from "Don't Treat Me Like a Child," words and music by Michael E. Hawker and John F. Schroeder, copyright 1960 (renewed 1988) by Lorna Music Co. Ltd. All rights in the U.S. and Canada controlled and administered by EMI Blackwood Music Inc.; excerpt from "Who Put the Bomp (In the Bomp Ba Bomp Ba Bomp)," words and music by Barry Mann and Gerry Goffin, copyright 1961 (renewed 1989) by Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc.; excerpt from "You Call Everybody Darling," words and music by Sam Martin, Ben Trace and Clem Watts, copyright 1946 (renewed) by Edwin H. Morris & Company, a division of MPL Music Publis.h.i.+ng, Inc. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by permission.

HAL LEONARD CORPORATION AND CHERRY LANE MUSIC COMPANY: Excerpt from "It's Been a Long, Long Time," lyrics by Sammy Cahn and music by Jules Styne, copyright 1945 by Morley Music Co., copyright renewed and a.s.signed to Morley Music Co. and Cahn Music Co. All rights for Cahn Music Co. administered by WB Music Corp. All rights outside the United States controlled by Morley Music Co. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

WILLIAMSON MUSIC O/B/O IRVING BERLIN MUSIC COMPANY: Excerpt from "They Say It's Wonderful" by Irving Berlin, copyright 1946 by Irving Berlin. Copyright renewed. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

LISA GRUNWALD is the author of the novels Whatever Makes You Happy, New Year's Eve, The Theory of Everything, Whatever Makes You Happy, New Year's Eve, The Theory of Everything, and and Summer. Summer. Along with her husband, Along with her husband, BusinessWeek BusinessWeek editor in chief Stephen J. Adler, she edited the anthologies editor in chief Stephen J. Adler, she edited the anthologies Women's Letters Women's Letters and and Letters of the Century. Letters of the Century. Grunwald is a former contributing editor to Grunwald is a former contributing editor to Life Life and a former features editor of and a former features editor of Esquire. Esquire. She and her husband live in New York City with their son and daughter. She and her husband live in New York City with their son and daughter.

ALSO BY LISA GRUNWALD.

Whatever Makes You Happy

New Year's Eve

The Theory of Everything

Summer