“Will you give me your address, in case I need to forward something to you?”
He laughed. “When I have an address, little sister, you’ll be the first to know.”
AFTER A WHILE JACK CAME DOWNSTAIRS WITH HIS LETTER, took an envelope and stamp from the drawer, and pulled a chair away from the table.
“Mind?” he asked. His eyes were still reddened, and the flesh of his face looked a little like wax, or like clay, creasing deeply when he smiled. If she had not known him she’d have thought, wistful and unsavory. He looked at her, as if he knew he did not seem the same to her, as if he had made some terrible confession and been forgiven and felt both shame and relief.
“Of course I don’t mind.”
He said, “My hands aren’t very steady. That might make the wrong impression. I want her to open it, at least.” So she wrote the address as he told it to her. He licked the flap of the envelope and winced. “Snowflake,” he said, and she laughed, and he laughed. He placed the stamp carefully. Then he took a folded paper from his shirt pocket and put it on the table. He said, “That’s for you.”
She took the paper up and opened it. A map. There was the river, and a road, and between them, fences, a barn, woods, an abandoned house, all of them sketched in and carefully labeled, and in the woods a clearing, and at the upper edge of the clearing an X and the word “morels.” In the lower-left-hand corner there was a compass, and a scale in hundreds of paces, and in the upper-right-hand corner a dragon with a coiled tail and smoking nostrils.
She said, “This is very pretty.”
He nodded. “More to the point, it is accurate. I made it when I was stone sober. It was the work of several days, a number of drafts.”
She said, “Now we really are even.”
He laughed. “That’s right.” His face was mild and his voice was soft with weariness, but he was clearly moved and relieved to be joking with her.
“Except it doesn’t say where these woods are. There are lots of fences and barns around here.”
“My, my,” he said. “What an oversight.” And he smiled at her.
“Well, I’m going to ignore that. It’s pretty. I’m going to frame it.”
“You’re a good soul, Glory.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Chicken and dumplings.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you probably needed some rest. I can keep an eye on things if you want to get a little sleep.”
“No. I’m all right. If you don’t mind the company.”
“I’m grateful for the company, Glory.” He laughed. “You have no idea.”
She said, “Do you want the newspaper? I’ve done the puzzles. I’m grateful for the company, too.”
He nodded. “That’s kind of you to say.”
Then they heard a stirring of bedsprings, then the lisp lisp of slippered feet and the pock of the cane. After a moment their father appeared in the doorway in his nightshirt, pale, with his hair rumpled, but solemnly composed. He looked first at Glory, then at the window, then finally, as if he had nerved himself, at Jack. “Oh,” he said, a regretful, involuntary sound. Then he rallied. “I thought I might enjoy a little conversation. I heard the two of you talking out here and I’ve come to join you. Yes.”
Jack helped him with his chair and sat down again.
The old man took his hand. “I think I was cross,” he said.
Jack said, “I had it coming.”
His father said, “No, no, it isn’t how I wanted things to be. I promised myself a thousand times, if you came home you would never hear a word of rebuke from me. No matter what.”
“I don’t mind. I deserve rebuke.”
The old man said, “You ought to let the Lord decide what you deserve. You think about that too much, what you deserve. I believe that is part of the problem.”
Jack smiled. “I believe you may have a point.”
“Nobody deserves anything, good or bad. It’s all grace. If you accepted that, you might be able to relax a little.”
Jack said, “Somehow I have never felt that grace was intended for me, particularly.”
His father said, “Oh nonsense! That is just nonsense!” He closed his eyes and withdrew his hand. Then he said, “I was cross again.”
Jack laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Dad.”
After a moment the old man said, “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t like it at all. Dad. It sounds ridiculous. It’s not even a word.”
“I’ll never say it again.” Jack stretched and smiled at Glory, eyebrows raised, as if to say, Help would be appreciated.
So she said, “Would you like me to get your robe, Papa?”
“I’m fine as I am. You’d think we were living in the Klondike.” Then he said, “I came out here for a little conversation and you’ve both stopped talking.”
There was a silence. “Well,” Glory said, “I’m making chicken and dumplings. Mama’s recipe.”
He said, “That can be very good, if the dumplings aren’t wet. Heavy. I’ve had to eat some terrible dumplings in my life.” Then, his eyes still closed, he said, “I can’t look at Jack’s hands. I don’t want to know what he did to them.”
Jack cleared his throat. “It’s mostly just engine grease I haven’t scrubbed off yet. I scraped them up a little, I guess.” He folded his arms to conceal them, and he smiled.
His father looked at him, sharply. “I don’t know what happened. Something happened last night.”
“Nothing good. You really don’t want to know. No point in it. Sir.”
“So, are we going to have the sheriff coming around here?”
“No, sir,” he said. “I have done nothing that would interest the sheriff.” His voice was soft and sad.
“Papa, Jack’s all right. Everything’s all right. But he’s tired now,” Glory said. “I think we should talk about something else.”
The old man nodded. “We’re all tired now.” Then he said, “So many times, over the years, I’ve tried not to love you so much. I never got anywhere with it, but I tried. I’d say, He doesn’t care a thing about us. He needs a little money now and then, that’s the extent of it. Still, I thought you might come home for your mother’s funeral. That was a very hard time for me. It would have been a great help. Why did I think you might come home? That was foolish of me. Your mother always said, You imagine some happiness is going to come out of all this, all this waiting and hoping, but it never will. So I tried to put an end to it. But I couldn’t.”
Jack smiled and cleared his throat. “Maybe now you can. Maybe I should tell you what I was up to all those years. That might put an end to it.”
The old man shook his head. “It couldn’t be worse than what I’ve imagined. I’ve thought of every dreadful thing, Jack. Lying awake nights. But it only made me grieve for you. And for myself, since there was no comfort I could give you.”
Jack said, “Well, I wouldn’t want you to think — I mean, ‘dreadful’ is a strong word. There are worse lives than mine. I know that’s not much to be proud of. But still.”
Glory said, “We all loved him, Papa, all of us, and there were reasons why we did. Why we do.”
“Could you expand on that a little, Glory?” Jack said. “I’d be interested.”
His father said, “Well, it’s just natural. What I’d like to know is why you didn’t love us. That is what has always mystified me.”
After a moment Jack said, “I did. But there wasn’t much I could do about it. It was hard for me to be here. I could never — trust myself. Anywhere. But that made it harder to be here.”
His father nodded. “Drink,” he said.