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“Are you moving back? With those two?” I pointed to the library. Through the glass I could see Nola Kinnard anxiously watching us. She saw me see her and she moved away. “Who are they supposed to be, Trey? Sister and Mark’s stunt doubles? Or just another passing fancy?”

“I know you’re mad at me. Why don’t you just punch me out and be done with it, Jordy?” Trey said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to hit you.” I didn’t eliminate shoving the chair into traffic, though. I rested my face in my hands, my fingers sore from clenching. I’d never felt such acrid, burning anger. I wanted to slap the cigarette out of his mouth. God, this couldn’t be happening. I looked up at him; he looked miserable. “I take it you have not seen your ex-wife and son?”

“We only struck town yesterday morning.”

“So Arlene doesn’t even know you’re here?” My voice rose.

“No, she don’t. I thought I’d call her later today-”

“Call her? You’ll do no such thing!” I grabbed the chair and stuck my face close to his. “You have made her suffer enough, Trey. You aren’t going to hurt her or Mark anymore.”

“I don’t want to hurt Arlene-”

“You don’t? How do you think she and Mark are going to feel when they see you gallivanting around town with your shiny new family? Did that ever occur to you?”

His hands clenched over my wrists. “What are you doing back in town, anyway? You get fired from your highfalutin job up North?”

“No!” I snapped back. “I came back here because my mother’s dying of Alzheimer’s.” His face crumpled; he’d always liked Mama. That didn’t earn any mercy from me. “Of course, you couldn’t know that since you haven’t bothered to stay in touch. Since you abandoned my sister, you asshole, she needed my help.” I took a long, calming breath. “There’s this thing called family, Trey. It matters. You make sacrifices because your family needs you. Because you love them. I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but-”

“I don’t need a lecture from you!” he yelled. “I don’t need you judging me! Look at me! Don’t you think I’ve paid enough for my mistakes?” His voice cracked.

I stepped back. “Is that your ploy? Is that what you’re planning to use on my sister and my nephew? Oh, let’s feel bad for Trey-he got hurt off playing cowboy. Well, I felt sorry for you long before you ever got stomped by a bull. You had the best woman and the best boy in the world, and you gave them up for a bunch of dumb animals. I hope it was worth it, you moron.”

“Are you done?” Trey asked, his voice cutting cold like the wind.

“Yes, I am.”

“Fine. I’m glad you’ve gotten your usual tantrum out of your system, Jordan.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t know the facts. I may have left Arlene, but I never abandoned her. I sent her money every month for Mark-”

“Don’t lie!” I shouted, but he ignored me.

“-and I left town for my own reasons, which, contrary to what you think, had nothing to do with Arlene and Mark.”

“I don’t care. Just keep your distance. Better yet, why don’t you leave town again?”

“Because Nola’s got family here. Her uncle’s Dwight Kinnard. He used to work with my daddy, and he’s offered to put us up for a while.”

“I can believe you were stupid enough to leave Arlene. I can’t believe you’re rotten enough to come back. Steer clear of my family, Trey.” I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “You know, she did get over you. She’s dating Junebug now, and he’s our police chief. Maybe they’ll even get married. She’s got a real man this time.”

He looked away quickly, but not before I saw the pain in his eyes. He didn’t offer a reply, so I turned and went back into the library. I felt vaguely ill. Letting him have it hadn’t made me feel better.

Nola and Scott stood by the front counter, watching us. Scott held a stack of books, clutching them protectively to his chest. Gretchen hovered between the Kinnards and the checkout counter.

Nola grabbed my arm with a strong hand. “What did you say to him, you asshole? How can you be cruel to a man who’s suffered like he has?”

“Cruel, lady?” I pulled my arm free. “That man invented the word. But maybe he’ll treat you and your boy better than he did my sister and her child. I hope so.” Nola gave me a hard stare and shoved the door open. Scott, glaring at me, suddenly threw his stack of novels at me; they scattered at my feet.

“You can’t say anything bad about Trey!” Scott yelled. “He’s a good man, better than you are!” That boy believed in Trey; desperation tinged his words. The anger seeped out of me.

“I’d have given anything if he was better than me, son,” I said. “It would have saved folks I love a lot of grief.”

Nola pulled Scott out the door, ignoring his tossed books. I watched her bend over Trey, hugging him, while Scott grasped the handles of the chair and maneuvered it to a decrepit blue Ford Escort. They loaded Trey in, Nola lifting his legs for him and tucking them in the car. I turned away and stalked back to my office, ignoring the character voices that Miss Ludey provided for the children. There’d been a momentary pause in the narrative when Scott had screamed at me, but Miss Ludey was, if anything, a trooper.

“Jordy, are you okay? Do you need-” Gretchen tried.

“No. Just leave me alone.” I slammed my office door behind me and spent the next hour staring at my desk, “Candace is going to drive me to drink,” Sister announced. She had come home around four and flopped down on the couch, her Sit-a-Spell T-shirt begrimed with sweat. “I got to go back there in a minute and do up the dinner fixings. The short-order cook Candace hired from that greasy spoon in Bavary don’t know his butt from a hole in the ground.”

I’m sure she’d anticipated a few quiet minutes at home. She seemed surprised to see me, but Gretchen had offered to cover for me. I’d never left Gretchen in charge of the library before, and I might be lucky if she didn’t frame me for stealing the coffee money while I was gone, but I couldn’t worry about her. Not with this terrible errand on my mind.

God, this was going to be hard. I sat down next to her, slipped her sneakers and socks off, and began to give her one of my patented foot rubs. (The secret is rubbing deep between the toes.)

“Gee, what brotherly concern,” Sister teased. “Oh, that does feel good. You must want me to keep Candace busy while you tomcat around town.”

“Not hardly,” I said, leaning back against the couch. I’d already checked-Mark was upstairs, studying geography. No time like the present.

“What’s Mama doing?” Sister demanded.

“Taking a nap.”

“I hope she’s not up again all night. I don’t need her bayin’ at the moon on top of everything else.” Sister pushed her other foot into my lap. “Don’t rub just one, Jordy, I got to use both of them dogs all day.”

I kneaded the bottoms of Sister’s foot, examining her sole intently. “I got some news, upsetting news. But you got to know, and you got to decide how to tell Mark.” I stopped rubbing and looked at Sister. “Trey is back in town. He came into the library today.”

Dead silence. Sister pulled her foot from my ministering hands. Her face looked carved-not a muscle moved. She finally pursed her lips and swallowed. Her mouth crinkled like she’d downed a dollop of poison. “That’s not funny, Jordan.”

“It’s not meant to be, Arlene.”

With my invocation of her first name, she knew it was true. She bit her lip, as though clamping down on words she didn’t want escaping.

“He got hurt in the rodeo. He’s in a wheelchair now.”

“Dad-Dad is here? And in a wheelchair?”

I froze. Mark stood halfway down the stairs; he must’ve been on his way down for a snack. I glanced at Sister; she wasn’t looking at me. I’d figured she’d tell Mark, not me. But there was no backing out now.

Having just seen his father, I was newly shocked at the resemblance between Trey and Mark. Where Sister and I are fair, Mark’s got his father’s jet-black hair and dark complexion. There was much of Trey in his face: the set of bones that made him look cagey and clever, the insouciant walk Trey had at Mark’s age, the tough hands with stubby fingers. Today he was resplendent in his latest fashion statement: a faded R.E.M. T-shirt I’d bought in Boston, black jeans, and red Converse sneakers. (Mark had recently renounced cowboy-style clothing; Sister prayed this was a temporary phase.) At least today he wasn’t wearing a baseball cap backward, a trend that for some reason irritates me. He came down the rest of the stairs and stood before us. He stared at his mother, and she stared back at him. Finally she turned to me.