—Then consider it a loan. You can pay it back once you get yourself situated.
—For the time being, observed Emmett, I think the Watsons have had their fill of loans.
Mr. Ransom smiled and nodded. Then he stood and put his hat on his head as the old pickup they called Betty roared into the driveway with Sally behind the wheel and Billy in the passenger seat. Before she had skidded to a stop with a backfire out of the exhaust, Billy was opening the door and jumping to the ground. Wearing a canvas backpack that reached from his shoulders to the seat of his pants, he ran right past Mr. Ransom and wrapped his arms around Emmett’s waist.
Emmett got down on his haunches so he could hug his little brother back.
Sally was approaching now in a brightly colored Sunday dress with a baking dish in her hands and a smile on her face.
Mr. Ransom took in the dress and the smile, philosophically.
—Well now, she said, look who’s here. Don’t you squeeze the life out of him, Billy Watson.
Emmett stood and put a hand on his brother’s head.
—Hello, Sally.
As was her habit when nervous, Sally got right down to business.
—The house has been swept and all the beds have been made and there’s fresh soap in the bathroom, and butter, milk, and eggs in the icebox.
—Thank you, said Emmett.
—I suggested the two of you should join us for supper, but Billy insisted you have your first meal at home. But seeing as you’re just back, I made the two of you a casserole.
—You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, Sally.
—Trouble or not, here it is. All you have to do is put it in the oven at 350° for forty-five minutes.
As Emmett took the casserole in hand, Sally shook her head.
—I should have written that down.
—I think Emmett will be able to remember the instructions, said Mr. Ransom. And if he doesn’t, Billy surely will.
—You put it in the oven at 350° for forty-five minutes, said Billy.
Mr. Ransom turned to his daughter.
—I’m sure these boys are eager to catch up, and we’ve got some things to see to at home.
—I’ll just go in for a minute to make sure that everything—
—Sally, Mr. Ransom said in a manner that broached no dissent.
Sally pointed at Billy and smiled.
—You be good, little one.
Emmett and Billy watched as the Ransoms climbed into their trucks and drove back up the road. Then Billy turned to Emmett and hugged him again.
—I’m glad you’re home, Emmett.
—I’m glad to be home, Billy.
—You don’t have to go back to Salina this time, do you?
—No. I never have to go back to Salina. Come on.
Billy released Emmett, and the brothers went into the house. In the kitchen, Emmett opened the icebox and slid the casserole onto a lower shelf. On the top shelf were the promised milk and eggs and butter. There was also a jar of homemade applesauce and another of peaches in syrup.
—You want something to eat?
—No, thank you, Emmett. Sally made me a peanut butter sandwich just before we came over.
—How about some milk?
—Sure.
As Emmett brought the glasses of milk to the table, Billy took off his backpack and set it on an empty chair. Unbuckling the uppermost flap, he carefully removed and unfolded a little package wrapped in aluminum foil. It was a stack of eight cookies. He put two on the table, one for Emmett and one for himself. Then he closed the foil, put the rest of the cookies back in his backpack, rebuckled the flap, and returned to his seat.
—That’s quite a pack, Emmett said.
—It’s a genuine US Army backpack, said Billy. Although it’s what they call an army surplus backpack because it never actually made it to the war. I bought it at Mr. Gunderson’s store. I also got a surplus flashlight and a surplus compass and this surplus watch.
Billy held out his arm to show the watch hanging loosely on his wrist.
—It even has a second hand.
After expressing his admiration for the watch, Emmett took a bite of the cookie.
—Good one. Chocolate chip?
—Yep. Sally made them.
—You help?
—I cleaned the bowl.
—I bet you did.
—Sally actually made us a whole batch, but Mr. Ransom said she was overdoing it, so she told him that she would just give us four, but secretly she gave us eight.
—Lucky for us.
—Luckier than just getting four. But not as lucky as getting the whole batch.
As Emmett smiled and took a sip of milk, he sized up his brother over the rim of the glass. He was about an inch taller and his hair was shorter, as it would be in the Ransom house, but otherwise he seemed the same in body and spirit. For Emmett, leaving Billy had been the hardest part of going to Salina, so he was happy to find him so little changed. He was happy to be sitting with him at the old kitchen table. He could tell that Billy was happy to be sitting there too.