The Major's Daughter by J. P. Francis

you’re talking,” Amos said. “Now you’re making perfect sense.”
    â€œWe may have had enough,” Henry said, though he knew it was futile to say it.
    â€œEnough? Now come on, Henry, we have to have a little fun, don’t we? This is our first night out in the old haunts in a long time. We’re haunting the old haunts,” he said again, evidently amused at his construction, then straightened and called to the bartender. “Ernie, another round, my good man. The same poison. The same concoctions. We’ll keep trying till we get it right. Until we perfect them.”
    Amos sat and dragged Dolly onto his lap. Dolly was a Berlin girl, younger than any of them. She worked in the restaurant at the local bowling lanes. She had dark hair and a slim waist and she wore a bright black-and-white-checked skirt that made Henry think of checkers. She leaned back onto Amos’s lap, yawning as she went. Some of her hair had come loose on the right side of her head and it dangled down. She fit Amos’s lap like a viola. Now and then, despite her drowsiness, she shot a hand down to stop Amos from exploring too freely beneath the table.
    â€œYou’re horrible,” she said to Amos after one of his attempts and just before the next round arrived. “Did you know how horrible he is, Henry? Just the devil, your brother. Charlene, didn’t I warn you? Didn’t I say Amos is a devil?”
    Charlene nodded. She looked up only when Ernie, the bartender and owner, appeared with the next set of drinks.
    â€œThis place is for the birds,” Charlene said after Ernie withdrew. “Just for the birds. I thought we were going out someplace special.”
    â€œThis is special,” Amos said, nuzzling Dolly’s neck. “This is where everyone goes. This is where the elite go to meet.”
    â€œWell, if this is the elite, I don’t know where that puts me,” Charlene said, taking her gin fizz off the cork-bottomed platter Ernie used to serve them. “Some big night out.”
    â€œThis is the only place open this late,” Amos said. “Stow that gab.”
    â€œLet’s drive over and see the Krauts,” Dolly said. “You said we could. I want to see them!”
    â€œThey’ll be asleep now,” Amos said, his hand beneath the table, making Dolly shift quickly on his lap. “They went nighty-night.”
    â€œI wouldn’t mind getting out of this dump,” Charlene said.
    â€œYou’re a picky one,” Amos said, turning a drunken eye on her. “Dolly, your friend is a picky one.”
    â€œThey’ll be waking up by the time we get there,” Dolly said. “Can’t we go? Can’t we please, please go?”
    She kissed Amos and wiggled a little deeper into his arms. Henry felt resigned to whatever happened. The last thing he wanted was to drive to Stark to see the German prisoner-of-war camp in the middle of the night, but he couldn’t think of a way to get out of it without being again called a wet blanket.
    â€œYour wish is my command,” Amos said, chucking Dolly up onto her feet and grabbing his drink. “Let’s go. You have to promise not to get fresh in the car, though.”
    Dolly laughed and slapped his arm lightly. Amos drained half of his drink. He took a big, breathy inhalation to steady himself. Henry stood and said he’d drive.
    â€œThe hell you will,” Amos said. “I’m your big brother, so it’s up to me to drive. You take a ride in the backseat with Charlene. Charlene, you promise to keep your hands to yourself in the dark?”
    â€œSure I do,” Charlene said, coming alive a little at the prospect of a drive. “I love a car ride.”
    In no time Henry found himself standing beside the family Oldsmobile, its front wheels jammed up on the lawn beside Ernie’s Tavern. Amos had wheedled a bottle of rye from Ernie. He grasped it as if choking