Farnham’s Freehold By Robert A. Heinlein

Duke hesitated. “Dad, I can’t be diplomatic.”

“Then don’t try.”

“So I’ll be blunt. Do you have to ruin Mother’s life, turn her into a lush, just on the chance that a hole in the ground will let you live a few years longer? Will it be worth while to be alive-afterwards-with the country devastated and all your friends dead?”

“Probably not.”

“Then why?”

“Duke, you aren’t married.”

“Obviously.”

“Son, I must be blunt myself. It has been years since I’ve had any real interest in staying alive. You are grown and on your own, and your sister is a grown woman, even though she is still in school. As for myself-” He shrugged. “The most satisfying thing left is the fiddling pleasure of a game of bridge. As you are aware, there isn’t much companionship left in my marriage.”

“I am aware, all right. But it’s your fault. You’re crowding Mother into a nervous breakdown.”

“I wish it were that simple. In the first place- You were at law school when I built the shelter, during that Berlin crisis. Your mother perked up and stayed sober. She would take a martini and let it go at that-instead of four as she did tonight. Duke, Grace wants that shelter.”

“Well-maybe so. But you aren’t soothing her by trotting around with that plug in your ear.”

“Perhaps not. But I have no choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grace is my wife, Son. ‘To love and to cherish’ includes keeping her alive if I can. That shelter may keep her alive. But only if she is in it. How much warning today? Fifteen minutes, if we’re lucky. But three minutes could be time enough to get her into the shelter. But if I don’t hear the alert, I won’t have three minutes. So I listen. During any crisis.”

“Suppose it happens when you are asleep?”

His father smiled. “If the news is bad, I sleep with this button taped into my ear. When it’s really bad-as it is tonight- Grace and I sleep in the shelter. The girls will be urged to sleep there. And you are invited.”

“Not likely!”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Dad, stipulating that an attack is possible-merely stipulating, as the Russians aren’t crazy-why build a shelter smack on a target? Why don’t you pick a place far from any target, build there-again stipulating that Mother needs one for her nerves, which may be true-and get Mother off the sauce?”

Hubert Farnham sighed. “Son, she won’t have it. This is her home.”

“Make her!”

“Duke, have you ever tried to make a woman do anything she really didn’t want to do? Besides that, a weakness for the sauce-hell, growing alcoholism-is not that simple. I must cope with it as best I can. However- Duke, I told you that I did not have much reason to stay alive. But I do have one reason.”

“Such as?”

“If those lying, cheating bastards ever throw their murder weapons at the United States, I want to live long enough to go to hell in style-with eight Russian side boys!”

Farnham twisted in his chair. “I mean it, Duke. America is the best thing in history, I think, and if those scoundrels kill our country, I want to kill a few of them. Eight side boys. Not less. I felt relieved when Grace refused to consider moving.”

“Why, Dad?”

“Because I don’t want that pig-faced peasant with the manners of a pig to run me out of my home! I’m a free man. I intend to stay free. I’ve made every preparation I can. But I wouldn’t relish running away. I- Here come the girls.”

Karen came in carrying drinks, followed by Barbara. “Hi! Barb got a look at our kitchen and decided to make crêpes Suzettes. Why are you two looking grim? More bad news?”

“No, but if you will snap the television on, we might get part of the ten o’clock roundup. Barbara, those glorified pancakes smell wonderful. Want a job as a cook?”

“What about Joseph?”

“We’ll keep Joseph as housekeeper.”

“I accept.”

Duke said, “Hey! You refused my offer of honorable matrimony and turn around and agree to live in sin with my old man. How come?”