SHE SAW HIM COMING UP THE ROAD AGAIN, LOOKING A little dejected, she thought, but he smiled when he came in the door and set his hat on the refrigerator and a can of coffee on the table. “I thought we might be running out,” he said. “The Reverend isn’t up yet?”
“I guess he didn’t sleep well. He didn’t want any breakfast. I put him back to bed.”
“Oh,” Jack said. “I’m sorry. It’s probably my fault.”
“No way of knowing. Sleep isn’t always easy for him.”
Jack said, “Yes,” and nodded, as if he were accepting a rebuke. He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and opened the newspaper. Then he put it aside. “Did he see this?”
“What?” She looked at the headline. RASH OF BURGLARIES. “I don’t know. I suppose he did. Why?”
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “No reason, I suppose. When I walked into the drugstore this morning, the conversation stopped. You know that feeling you have when you’re the reason people aren’t talking.” He laughed. “So I went into the grocery store, just to see if it would happen again. And it did. I was trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything.”
“Well,” she said, “I doubt that it did, Jack. Why should anyone think this has anything to do with you? Papa wouldn’t think that.”
He laughed into his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is humiliating.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I did that once. I did exactly that. I went out at night and tried doorknobs. And I found a couple of doors that were unlocked and took some money and some beer. Teddy saw it in my room. He said he’d tell the Reverend if I didn’t. He gave me an hour. I used the time to drink the beer. Then the old gent came upstairs and gathered up the money and took me off to return it, drunk as I was. I couldn’t stop laughing — ah!”
“Really, Jack. That must have been — what? — thirty years ago?”
“Hmm. More like twenty-eight.”
“How can you think anyone would remember?”
“You don’t think he remembers?”
“He probably does, I suppose. But that doesn’t mean anyone else would. And it doesn’t mean he thinks you did this, for heaven’s sake.”
He looked at her. “Would you be willing to vouch for my whereabouts?”
“Willing,” she said. “Of course I’d be willing. But I don’t know a thing in the world — your whereabouts are always your best-kept secret.”
He nodded. “That’ll change. But you see my point.”
“No, I don’t. Besides, this must have happened night before last, to be in the paper this morning.”
“Did I leave the house night before last?”
“I don’t know.”
He shrugged. “You see what I mean.”
“Did you?”
He nodded. “I can’t sleep,” he said. “I can’t walk around in the house. He hears me. I can’t stay in that room. Well, now I will.” He looked at her. “I’m not going to leave yet.”
“Leave? But maybe nothing has happened, Jack. Maybe Papa was reminded of that other time, but he’ll forget it again—”
“What will I say to him? By the way, Dad, I sure haven’t been out stealing petty cash from the dime store?” He laughed.
“You won’t say anything. Things like this happen. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Right. I have to remember that. I will keep that firmly in mind.”
“Now, what would you like for breakfast?”
“A little more coffee.”
“No. You’re going to eat something. If you want to look like Raskolnikov, all right. Otherwise, you had better start eating. It would probably help you sleep. I’m going to make pancakes.”
He laughed. “Oh, please no. Not pancakes. You have to let me work up to this.”
“French toast. Oatmeal. Eggs and toast.”
“Now I’m Raskolnikov. Just yesterday I was Cary Grant.”
“You don’t eat and you don’t sleep. That’s what happens. I’ll make French toast.”
“Yes. I have to keep my strength up, I suppose. I have to try to look employable.”
She said, “So you really are thinking of staying here?”
He shrugged. “The thought has definitely crossed my mind.”
“Well. I’m surprised.”
“And you want to leave.”
“Yes, I do. I hate this town.”
“Why?”
She said, “Because it reminds me of when I was happy.”
“Oh. So I suppose there isn’t much chance that you might reconsider.”
“Probably not. Should I?”
He laughed. “I believe you may be the only friend I have in the world at the moment, Glory. Nobody else would bother to force breakfast on me. So my motives are selfish. As always.”
She stirred the milk and eggs and heated the griddle. “I know that could be charm,” she said. “I’ll believe you if you actually do what I tell you to do. Eat, primarily. And stop worrying about everything.”
“I’ll do my poor best. Seriously. I will.”
