(EXCERPT FROM “THE BEANING OF JOE CASTLE,” BY PAUL TRACEY, SON OF WARREN)
19
Killing time in the Atlanta airport, I call Clarence Rook. It has been slightly more than twenty-four hours since I said good-bye to him, but it seems like a month. “You’ll never guess who called me last night,” he says.
“Charlie or Red?”
“Charlie. Said he got a call from Joe, who said I showed up at the field with a stranger, and he was just checking in to make sure everything’s okay. That’s what Charlie always says—‘Clarence, everything okay?’ I said, sure, Charlie, just a nephew from Texas who wanted to see the field.”
“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” I ask.
“Well, I did, later. I got to thinking about it, chatted with Fay, and so I called Charlie back, said I had something important to discuss with him and Red, and could we meet for coffee? We did, this morning, at a quieter place north of town. I told them all about you, your visit, and so on.” He stops talking, and this is not a good sign.
“Let me guess. They did not weep with sorrow at the news that Warren Tracey has terminal cancer.”
“They did not.”
A pause, another bad sign. “And the idea of him coming to Calico Rock to meet with Joe? How was that received?”
“Not very well, at least not at first. In fact, they didn’t like the idea of
“Will they shoot me if I return?”
“No. They warmed up considerably, even promised to talk to Joe and see if he likes the idea. I pushed a little, but it’s really none of my business. What about the meeting with your father?”
I decide to spin it. “I got the door open, I think. We had some frank discussions, a lot of old family stuff, nothing you want to hear. The problem is that he is in denial about his cancer, and until he faces the prospect of death, he will be hard to persuade.”
“Poor guy.”
“Maybe, but I could not reach the point where I actually felt sorry for him.”
I ask about Fay, and the conversation runs out of gas. An hour later, I board the flight to Dallas.
Sara and the girls are waiting with a late dinner when I finally get home. The girls have no idea where I have been or what I’ve been doing, so we talk about the weekend we are about to spend camping in the mountains. Sara, though, is curious. After we’re finished and the girls are gone, I replay the trip as we clear the table.
“What’s next?” she asks.
“I have no idea. I might wait a couple of weeks and call Warren, ask about his chemo, maybe bring up Joe again.”
“What’s your favorite saying, dear? Didn’t get halfway—”
“Didn’t get halfway to first base. Yep, that pretty well sums up my little visit with Warren. He’s still the tough guy, and he could take it to his grave. Probably will.”
“Are you glad you went?”
“Yes, very much so. I got a glimpse of Joe Castle, and he’s doing as well as possible, I guess. I got to see Warren, which doesn’t mean much now but it could seem important one day. And, most important, I had a glass of Ozark peach brandy.”
“What’s that?”
“Moonshine.”
“They serve it with dinner?”
“No, it’s strictly an after-dinner drink, at least in the Rook household. Clarence called it a ‘digestif.’ ”
“What does it taste like?”
“Liquid fire.”
“Sounds delicious. Any other excitement?”
“Not really.”
“Are you going to call Jill?”
“Not tonight, maybe later. I doubt if she wants to hear about Warren.”
