Teddy didn’t study him, exactly, though there was always something of the doctor in his kindest attention. They teased him about it. Once, when he had looked too intently into Hope’s eyes, she pulled down a lower lid to accommodate his scrutiny. Now he could not help but notice Jack’s color, notice how thin his hand was, that it trembled. How could he help but notice these things, and how could Jack not step back from him, with a smile of irritation?
“You’re a good man, Teddy. I remember you said that time I talked with you in St. Louis that you wouldn’t come looking for me again. I appreciated that.”
“Well, the fact is, I did. I just didn’t find you. I came back six times altogether. The last time was about two years ago.” He said, “Once, I thought I’d found your hotel. The fellow at the desk said you were staying there. That was a long time ago. My third trip, I think. I left an envelope with a note in it and some money. I guess it never got to you.”
Jack shook his head. “No.” Then he said, “Did the fellow have a bad eye?” He touched his face.
“Terrible,” Teddy said. “Did he ever see anybody about it?”
Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t know. The bastard evicted me. Sorry.”
“Well, I promised to leave you alone, and then I made a pretty good try at going back on my word. Sometimes I’d just get the feeling I had to see you again, and I’d take off for St. Louis. A couple of times I called home from the road to tell them where I was. I’d think I was going to get a tank of gas and I’d find myself headed for Missouri.”
Jack said, “I’ve put you to a lot of trouble.”
“No, no. Looking for you was sort of the next best thing to finding you. It made me feel like we were still brothers, I suppose.”
Jack said, “If we’re being honest — I saw you there once. You were getting out of your car. It was a black Chevy. You were wearing a brown sweater that day, too. I stepped into a cigar store and waited until you drove away. I had to buy a magazine because I’d read most of it. That didn’t make sense to me, but it did to the clerk. It took my last quarter.”
Teddy laughed. “Okay,” he said, and tears started down his cheeks. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Jack said quietly, “I don’t want you to give a damn about me. Any of you. I never did.” He looked at Glory as if he might apologize, and then there was a silence. He laughed. “What an asinine remark that was. I’m really sorry. It sort of makes a point, though.”
Teddy nodded. “There is clearly a good deal of truth in it.”
“I’m not sure I understand it myself. I don’t know why you’d put up with it. Me.”
Teddy said, “That is an interesting question. For another time.”
Jack laughed. He stood up. When they both looked at him he said, “Getting coffee. Would you like some more, Glory? Teddy? He took up Glory’s cup and saucer, but they chattered in his hand so he put them down. “I’ll get the pot.” When he had finished serving them he propped himself against the counter again.
“I’m doing all right, too,” Teddy said. “Hanging together. No major problems at the moment. So far as I know.”
Jack said, “Glad to hear it.”
Then their father called, “Is that Teddy! I believe I hear Teddy!” His voice was urgent with relief and joy.
Teddy said, “Here I am, Dad. I’m coming.” He went into the old man’s room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took him up in his arms. The old man put his arms around him, rested his head on his shoulder, and wept. “I’m so glad you’re here, Teddy!” he said. He tried to speak in his reasonable, fatherly voice, but it was broken by sobs. “It’s been hard, Teddy. I knew it would be. But it’s been very hard!” And he wept. “I’m so old!” he said.
Teddy stroked his back and his hair. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”
Jack looked at Glory and smiled. He was very pale. “What the hell have I been doing?” He said, “What a fool—” And he went upstairs. She heard his door close.
The old man said, “Glory has been such a help. He doesn’t talk to me, but he talks to her. Sometimes I hear them laughing, and that’s very good, but I don’t think she can reason with him. I know I can’t.”
Teddy said, “I left my bag in the car. I’ll get it and check you over a bit, listen to your chest, and then we can worry about Jack.” He was the only doctor their father would allow anywhere near him, since the local fellow had suggested that brandy might ease his discomfort a little, and then had given him a tonic which the old man swore was concocted of whiskey and prune juice.
“No, no, Teddy, I don’t care about my heart, that’s very kind. What I want is just to see the two of you together. Is Jack here? I hope you find him, because it seems like I never even get a clear look at him. If you could just stand there beside him, I believe that might help me. I rest all the time, but I can’t get my strength
