* * *
? ? ?
When Emmett got to his father’s room, Sally was already making the bed with quick, precise movements.
—You didn’t mention that you were having company, she said, without looking up.
—I didn’t know I was having company.
Sally fluffed the pillows by giving them a punch on either end, then set them against the headboard.
—Excuse me, she said, squeezing past Emmett in the doorway as she went across the hall to his room.
When Emmett followed, he found her staring at the bed—because Duchess had already made it. Emmett was a little impressed by Duchess’s effort, but Sally wasn’t. She pulled back the quilt and sheet and began tucking them back in with the same precise movements. When she turned her attention to the punching of pillows, Emmett glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost ten fifteen. He really didn’t have time for this, whatever this was.
—If something’s on your mind, Sally . . .
Sally stopped abruptly and looked him in the eye for the first time that morning.
—What would be on my mind?
—I’m sure I don’t know.
—That sounds about right.
She straightened her dress and made a move toward the door, but he was standing in her way.
—I’m sorry if I didn’t seem grateful in the kitchen. All I was trying to say was— —I know what you were trying to say because you said it. That I didn’t need to go to the trouble of skipping church so that I could make you breakfast this morning; just like I didn’t need to go to the trouble of making you dinner last night. Which is fine and dandy. But for your information, telling someone they didn’t have to go to the trouble of doing something is not the same as showing gratitude for it. Not by a long shot. No matter how much store-bought jam you have in the cabinet.
—Is that what this is about? The jam in the cabinet? Sally, I did not mean to slight your preserves. Of course they’re better than the jam in the cabinet. But I know how much effort it takes for you to make them, and I didn’t want you to feel you had to waste a jar on us. It’s not like it’s a special occasion.
—It may interest you to know, Emmett Watson, that I am quite happy to have my preserves eaten by friends and family when there is no occasion to speak of. But maybe, just maybe, I thought you and Billy might like to enjoy one last jar before you packed up and moved to California without saying so much as a word.
Emmett closed his eyes.
—Come to think of it, she continued, I guess I should thank my lucky stars that your friend Duchess had the presence of mind to inform me of your intentions. Otherwise, I might have come over tomorrow morning and made pancakes and sausage only to find there was no one here to eat them.
—I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to mention that to you, Sally. But it wasn’t like I was trying to hide it. I talked about it with your father yesterday afternoon. In fact, he was the one who brought it up—saying it might be best if Billy and I were to pull up stakes and make a fresh start somewhere else.
Sally looked at Emmett.
—My father said that. That you should pull up stakes and make a fresh start.
—In so many words . . .
—Well, doesn’t that just sound delightful.
Pushing past Emmett, Sally continued into Billy’s room, where Woolly was lying on his back and blowing at the ceiling, trying to stir the airplanes.
Sally put her hands on her hips.
—And who might you be?
Woolly looked up in shock.
—I’m Woolly.
—Are you Catholic, Woolly?
—No, I’m Episcopalian.
—Then what are you still doing in bed?
—I’m not sure, admitted Woolly.
—It’s after ten in the morning and I’ve got plenty to do. So at the count of five, I’m going to make that bed, whether you’re in it or not.
Woolly jumped out from under the covers in his boxer shorts and watched in a state of amazement as Sally went about the business of making the bed. While scratching the top of his head, he noticed Emmett on the threshold.
—Hey, Emmett!
—Hey, Woolly.
Woolly squinted at Emmett for a moment, then his face lit up.
—Is that bacon?
—Ha! said Sally.
And Emmett, he headed down the stairs and out the door.
* * *
It was a relief for Emmett to be alone behind the wheel of the Studebaker.
Since leaving Salina, he’d barely had a moment to himself. First there was the drive with the warden, then Mr. Obermeyer in the kitchen and Mr. Ransom on the porch, then Duchess and Woolly, and now Sally. All Emmett wanted, all he needed, was a chance to clear his head so that, wherever he and Billy decided to go, whether to Texas or California or someplace else altogether, he could set out in the right frame of mind. But as he turned onto Route 14, what Emmett found himself dwelling on was not where he and Billy might go, it was his exchange with Sally.