"In free-fall? But-" Matt had stopped, suddenly aware that there was no way to bridge the gap.
"Never mind. Let's go in to dinner."
There had been the usual round of family dinners with aunts and uncles. Everyone asked him to tell about school, about what it felt like to go out into space. But, somehow, they had not actually seemed very interested. Take Aunt Dora.
Great-aunt Dora was the current family matriarch. She had been a very active woman, busy with church and social work. Now she was bedfast and had been for three years. Matt called on her because his family obviously expected it. "She often complains to me that you don't write to her, Matt, and- "
"But, Mother, I don't have time to write to everyone!"
"Yes, yes. But she's proud of you, Matt. Shell want to ask you a thousand questions about everything. Be sure to wear your uniform-she'll expect it."
Aunt Dora had not asked a thousand questions; she had asked just one- why had he waited so long to come to see her? Thereafter Matt found himself being informed, in detail, on the shortcomings of the new pastor, the marriage chances of several female relatives and connections, and the states of health of several older women, many of them unknown to him, including details of operations and postoperative developments.
He was a bit dizzy when he escaped, pleading a previous date.
Yes, maybe that was it-it might have been the visit to Aunt Dora that convinced him that he was not ready to resign and remain in Des Moines. It could not have been Marianne.
Marianne was the girl who had made him promise to write regularly-and, in fact, he had, more regularly than had she. But he had let her know that he was coming home and she had organized a picnic to welcome him back. It had been jolly. Matt had renewed old acquaintances and had enjoyed a certain amount of hero worship from the girls present. There had been a young man there, three or four years older than Matt, who seemed unattached. Gradually it dawned on Matt that Marianne treated the newcomer as her property.