She was a small, round woman with flyaway hair that was eight different shades of gray. She had big teeth and an easy smile. Her green sundress exposed the wrinkled skin of her wide shoulders and arms; despite farm work she was still as fair as the flesh of an apple. Spur had been mothered by many of the women of Littleton as a boy, but Gandy Joy was the one who meant the most to him. He had to stoop over slightly to hug her.
'Prosper.' She squeezed him so hard it took his breath away. 'My lovely boy, you're safe.'
'Thank you for opening the cottage,' he said. 'But how did you find everything?' She smelled like lilacs and he realized that she must have perfumed herself just for him.
'Small house.' She stepped back to take him in. 'Not many places a thing can be.'
Spur studied her as well; she seemed to have aged five years in the ten months since he'd seen her last. 'Big enough, especially for one.'
'I'm sorry, Prosper.'
When Spur saw the sadness shadow her face, he knew that she had heard something. She was, after all, the village virtuator. He supposed he should have been relieved that Comfort was letting everyone know she wanted a divorce, since that was what he wanted too. Instead he just felt hollow. 'What has she told you?'
Gandy Joy just shook her head. 'You two have to talk.'
He thought about pressing her, but decided to let it drop. 'Have a seat, Gandy. Can I get you anything? There's applejack.' He steered her toward the sofa. 'And root beer.'
'No thanks.' She nodded at her wooden-bead purse, which he now noticed against the bolster of the sofa. 'I brought communion.'
'Really?' he said, feigning disappointment. 'Then you're only here on business?'
'I'm here for more reasons than you'll ever know.' She gave him a playful tap on the arm. 'And keeping souls in communion is my calling, lovely boy, not my business.' She settled on the sofa next to her purse and he sat facing her on the oak chair that had once been his only stick of furniture.
'How long are you with us?' She pulled out three incense burners and set them on the cherry wood table that Comfort had ordered all the way from Providence.
'A week.' Spur had seen Gandy Joy's collection of incense burners, but he had never known her to use three at once for just two people. 'I'll catch up with the squad in Cloyce Forest. Easy work for a change; just watching the trees grow.' He considered three excessive; after all, he had accepted communion regularly with the other firefighters.
'We weren't expecting you so soon.' She slipped the aluminum case marked with the seal of the Transcendent State from her purse. 'You didn't come on the train.'
'No.'
She selected a communion square from the case. She touched it to her forehead, the tip of her nose and her lips and then placed it on edge in the incense burner. She glanced up at him and still the silence stretched. 'Just no?' she said finally. 'That's all?'
Spur handed her the crock of matches kept especially for communion. 'My father told you to ask, didn't he?'
'I'm old, Prosper.' Her smile was crooked. 'I've earned the right to be curious.' She repeated the ritual with the second communion square.
'You have. But he really wants to know.'
'He always does.' She set the third communion in its burner. 'But then everybody understands about that particular bend in Capability's soul.' She selected a match from the crock and struck it.
Now it was Spur's turn to wait. 'So aren't you going to ask me about the train?'
'I was, but since you have something to hide, I won't.' She touched the fire to each of the three squares and they caught immediately, the oils in the communion burning with an eager yellow flame. 'I don't really care, Spur. I'm just happy that you're back and safe.' She blew the flames out on each of the squares, leaving a glowing edge. 'Make the most of your time with us.'
Spur watched the communion smoke uncoil in the still air of his parlor. Then, as much to please Gandy Joy as to re-establish his connection with his village, he leaned forward and breathed deeply. The fumes that filled his nose were harsh at first, but wispier and so much sweeter than the strangling smoke of a burn. As he settled back into his chair, he got the subtle accents: the yeasty aroma of bread baking, a whiff of freshly split oak and just a hint of the sunshine scent of a shirt fresh off the clothesline. He could feel the communion smoke fill his head and touch his soul. It bound him as always to the precious land and the cottage where his family had made a new life, the orderly Leung farmstead, his home town and of course to this woman who loved him more than his mother ever had and his flinty father who couldn't help the way he was and faithful Sly Sawatdee and generous Leaf Benkleman and droll Will Sambusa and steadfast Peace Toba and the entire Velez family who had always been so generous to him and yes, even his dear Comfort Rose Joerly, who was leaving him but who was nonetheless a virtuous citizen of Littleton.
He shivered when he noticed Gandy Joy watching him. No doubt she was trying to gauge whether he had fully accepted communion. 'Thank you,' he said, 'for all the food.'
She nodded, satisfied. 'You're welcome. We just wanted to show how proud we are of you. This is your village, after all, and you're our Prosper and we want you to stay with us always.'
He chuckled nervously. Why did everyone think he was going somewhere?
She leaned forward, and lowered her voice. 'But I have to say there was more than a little competition going on over the cooking.' She chuckled. 'Bets were placed on which dish you'd eat first.'
'Bets?' Spur found the idea of half a dozen women competing to please him quite agreeable. 'And what did you choose?'
'After I saw everything laid out, I was thinking that you'd start in on pie. After all, there wasn't going to be anyone to tell you no.'
Spur laughed. 'Pie was all I ate. But don't tell anyone.'
She tapped her forefinger to her lips and grinned.
'So I'm guessing that the Velez girls made the pies?'
'There was just the one - an apple, I think is what Bell said.'
'I found two on the counter: apple and a peach.'
'Really?' Gandy sat back on the couch. 'Someone else must have dropped it off after we left.'
'Might have been Comfort,' said Spur. 'DiDa said he thought she stopped by. I was expecting to find a note.'
'Comfort was here?'
'She lives here,' said Spur testily. 'At least, all her stuff is here.'
Gandy took a deep breath over the incense burners and held it in for several moments. 'I'm worried about her,' she said finally. 'She hasn't accepted communion since we heard about Vic. She keeps to herself and when we go to visit her at home, she's as friendly as a brick. There's mourning and then there's self-pity, Prosper. She's been talking about selling the farmstead, moving away. We've lost poor Victor, we don't want to lose her too. Littleton wouldn't be the same without the Joerlys. When you see her, whatever you two decide, make sure she knows that.'
Spur almost groaned then, but the communion had him in its benevolent grip. If citizens didn't help one another, there would be no Transcendent State. 'I'll do my best,' he said, his voice tight.
'Oh, I know you will, my lovely boy. I know it in my soul.'
Eleven
Things do not change; we change. - Journal, 1850
The High Gregory sat next to Spur in the bed of the Sawat-dees' truck, their backs against the cab, watching the dust billow behind them. Sly and Ngonda rode up front. As the truck jolted down Blue Valley Road, Spur could not help but see the excitement on the High Gregory's face. The dirt track was certainly rough, but the boy was bouncing so high Spur was worried that he'd fly over the side. He was even making Sly nervous, and the old farmer was usually as calm as moss. But then Sly Sawatdee didn't make a habit of giving rides to upsiders. He kept glancing over his shoulder at the High Gregory through the open rear slider.
Spur had no doubt that his cover story for the High Gregory and Ngonda was about to unravel. The High Gregory had decided to wear purple overalls with about twenty brass buttons. Although there was nothing wrong with his black t-shirt, the bandana knotted around his neck was a pink disaster embellished with cartoons of beets
