—Yes, said Woolly in agreement. By the back stairs would be dandy.
Woolly nodded twice with a smile and then looked down at the table.
After giving Woolly a hug upstairs, Sarah had asked if he was hungry and offered to make him a sandwich. So that’s what was in front of him now—a grilled cheese sandwich cut into two triangles, one pointing up and one pointing down. As he looked at the triangles, Woolly could tell that his sister was looking at him.
—Woolly, she said after a moment. What are you doing here?
Woolly looked up.
—Oh, I don’t know, he said with a smile. Gadding about, I suppose. Traveling hither and yon. You see, my friend Duchess and I each got a leave of absence from Salina and we decided to take a little trip and see some friends and family.
—Woolly . . .
Sarah gave a sigh that was so delicate, Woolly could hardly hear it.
—I got a call from Mom on Monday—after she got a call from the warden. So I know you don’t have a leave of absence.
Woolly looked back down at his sandwich.
—But I phoned the warden so that I could speak to him myself. He told me that you have been an exemplary member of the community. And seeing as you only have five months left on your sentence, he said if you were to come right back of your own accord, he would do his best to limit the repercussions. Can I call him, Woolly? Can I call and tell him that you are on your way back?
Woolly turned his plate around so that the grilled cheese triangle pointing up was now pointing down, and the grilled cheese triangle pointing down was now pointing up. The warden called Mom who called Sarah who called the warden, thought Woolly. Then he broke into a smile.
—Do you remember? he asked. Do you remember when we would play telephone? All of us together in the great room at the camp?
For a moment, Sarah looked at Woolly with an expression that seemed so sorrowfully sad. But it was only for a moment. Then she broke into a smile of her own.
—I remember.
Sitting up in his chair, Woolly began remembering for the both of them, because while he wasn’t any good at rememorizing, he was very good at remembering.
—As the youngest, I always got to go first, he said. And I would lean against your ear and hide my mouth behind my hand so that no one else could hear me, and I would whisper: The captains were playing cribbage on their ketches. Then you would turn to Kaitlin and whisper to her, and Kaitlin would whisper to Dad, and Dad would whisper to cousin Penelope, and cousin Penelope would whisper to Aunt Ruthie, and so it would go—all the way around the circle until it reached Mother. Then Mother would say: The Comptons ate their cabbage in the kitchen.
At the recollection of their mother’s inevitable befuddlement, the brother and sister broke into laughter that was almost as loud as the laughter they had laughed all those years ago.
Then they were quiet.
—How is she? Woolly asked, looking down at his sandwich. How is Mom?
—She’s well, said Sarah. When she called, she was on her way to Italy.
—With Richard.
—He is her husband, Woolly.
—Yes, yes, Woolly agreed. Of course, of course, of course. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health. And till death do them part—but not for one minute longer.
—Woolly . . . It wasn’t a minute.
—I know, I know.
—It was four years after father died. And with you at school and Kaitlin and me married, she was all by herself.
—I know, he said again.
—You don’t have to like Richard, Woolly, but you can’t begrudge your mother the comforts of companionship.
Woolly looked at his sister, thinking: You can’t begrudge your mother the comforts of companionship. And he wondered, if he had whispered that sentence to Sarah, and she had whispered it to Kaitlin, and Kaitlin had whispered it to his father, and so on all the way around the ring, when it finally reached his mother, what would the sentence have become?
Duchess
With the cowboy at the courthouse and Old Testament Ackerly, the balancing of accounts had been pretty straightforward. They were in the manner of one minus one, or five minus five. But when it came to Townhouse, the math was a little more complicated.
There was no question I owed him for the Hondo fiasco. I didn’t make it rain that night, and I sure as hell didn’t intend to bum a ride from a cop, but that didn’t change the fact that had I just slogged my way home through the potato fields, Townhouse could have eaten his popcorn, seen the feature, and slipped back into the barracks undetected.
To his credit, Townhouse didn’t make a big deal of it, even after Ackerly got out the switch. And when I tried to apologize, he just shrugged it off—like a guy who’s come to expect that he’s going to get a beating every now and then whether he deserves it or not. Still, I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the turn of events, any more than I would have been were the positions reversed. So in exchange for his taking the beating, I knew I owed him something.