could hear the low rumble three and four feet away.
Still, Alfred wasn't violent, Terry reminded himself, and that was helpful. The caseworker had said some kids were--and everyone in the state knew about the teenage boy who'd shot his foster dad dead despite living under the same roof with the man for three years. During the summer before Alfred had arrived, Terry had in fact feared that because he was a state trooper they'd give them a real problem child. If they'd wanted to, of course, they certainly could have found one for Laura and him. A fire starter, maybe. Perhaps a kid who tortured animals.
If they'd wanted to, they could have sent the two of them a real curve by giving them a teenage girl. Those kids were an accusation of sexual assault just waiting to happen. Don't sit on the bed with her when you two are talking. Those were the exact words in one of the manuals they'd received. Or: When the two of you are alone in a room, always keep the door open. This way your intentions will not be misconstrued.
He sighed. Maybe he was too hard on Alfred. The boy wasn't particularly trusting, but as far as anyone knew he wasn't a delinquent, either. He'd done time in a group home when he was five, but that was only because the kid had clammed up so badly--apparently it had been a hell of a lot worse than the mere quiet that marked his behavior right now--after his foster father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and he'd been moved someplace else.
He glanced at his watch and saw it was only a quarter to eight. The general store was open another fifteen minutes. If he left now, he could be there before the place closed for the night and call the house. Talk to Laura and Alfred. Tell them he was looking forward to coming home tomorrow, with or without a deer, and for sure he'd be back by supper.
He stood without folding the newspaper and told the men at the card table that he was going to the store to use the pay phone to call his family, and he wanted to get there before the place closed.
Oh, please, Russell said, without looking up from the cards in his hands. The phone's outside the front door.
So?
Store doesn't have to be open to use it.
Well, I want to call before it's too late, he said, but he knew exactly what his brother was suggesting. He figured Phoebe would be there, and he wanted to see her again before he left.
It's your life, Russell said.
He ignored his brother because he didn't plan on anything other than a little general-store banter with the woman by the cash register. Harmless stuff, completely harmless. Besides, he reminded himself as he zipped up his coat, the real reason he was going was to call his wife and the boy.
Nothing wrong with that.
He realized he wanted to brush his teeth, but he knew he didn't dare. Surely his cousins or Russell would say something to him if he went anywhere near his toothbrush. Fortunately, he was almost certain he'd seen a tin of Altoids on the front seat of his cousin's moldering Blazer, and he figured he could grab a handful on the way to his truck.
"It had finally stopped raining and so I went to the river to wash our clothes. I knew how high the water was before we got there, because I could hear it. It sounded like there was a waterfall nearby, but there wasn't. It was just the river. And then I heard the guns, and I knew the men were coming back and they were in trouble."
VERONICA ROWE (FORMERLY POPPING TREES),
WPA INTERVIEW,
MARCH 1938
*
The Heberts
Even before she had opened her eyes, she knew he wasn't in the bed with her. It wasn't that she couldn't hear him snoring, or she couldn't smell the cream he sometimes put on his shoulder at night--that smell, after all, lingered long after he'd left the room. It was the way the quilt felt heavy upon her. When he was in bed, the quilt rose high off her body, more like a tent than a blanket, because of the way he slept on his back with his knees bent into triangles.
She reached for the little clock and
Still, Alfred wasn't violent, Terry reminded himself, and that was helpful. The caseworker had said some kids were--and everyone in the state knew about the teenage boy who'd shot his foster dad dead despite living under the same roof with the man for three years. During the summer before Alfred had arrived, Terry had in fact feared that because he was a state trooper they'd give them a real problem child. If they'd wanted to, of course, they certainly could have found one for Laura and him. A fire starter, maybe. Perhaps a kid who tortured animals.
If they'd wanted to, they could have sent the two of them a real curve by giving them a teenage girl. Those kids were an accusation of sexual assault just waiting to happen. Don't sit on the bed with her when you two are talking. Those were the exact words in one of the manuals they'd received. Or: When the two of you are alone in a room, always keep the door open. This way your intentions will not be misconstrued.
He sighed. Maybe he was too hard on Alfred. The boy wasn't particularly trusting, but as far as anyone knew he wasn't a delinquent, either. He'd done time in a group home when he was five, but that was only because the kid had clammed up so badly--apparently it had been a hell of a lot worse than the mere quiet that marked his behavior right now--after his foster father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and he'd been moved someplace else.
He glanced at his watch and saw it was only a quarter to eight. The general store was open another fifteen minutes. If he left now, he could be there before the place closed for the night and call the house. Talk to Laura and Alfred. Tell them he was looking forward to coming home tomorrow, with or without a deer, and for sure he'd be back by supper.
He stood without folding the newspaper and told the men at the card table that he was going to the store to use the pay phone to call his family, and he wanted to get there before the place closed.
Oh, please, Russell said, without looking up from the cards in his hands. The phone's outside the front door.
So?
Store doesn't have to be open to use it.
Well, I want to call before it's too late, he said, but he knew exactly what his brother was suggesting. He figured Phoebe would be there, and he wanted to see her again before he left.
It's your life, Russell said.
He ignored his brother because he didn't plan on anything other than a little general-store banter with the woman by the cash register. Harmless stuff, completely harmless. Besides, he reminded himself as he zipped up his coat, the real reason he was going was to call his wife and the boy.
Nothing wrong with that.
He realized he wanted to brush his teeth, but he knew he didn't dare. Surely his cousins or Russell would say something to him if he went anywhere near his toothbrush. Fortunately, he was almost certain he'd seen a tin of Altoids on the front seat of his cousin's moldering Blazer, and he figured he could grab a handful on the way to his truck.
"It had finally stopped raining and so I went to the river to wash our clothes. I knew how high the water was before we got there, because I could hear it. It sounded like there was a waterfall nearby, but there wasn't. It was just the river. And then I heard the guns, and I knew the men were coming back and they were in trouble."
VERONICA ROWE (FORMERLY POPPING TREES),
WPA INTERVIEW,
MARCH 1938
*
The Heberts
Even before she had opened her eyes, she knew he wasn't in the bed with her. It wasn't that she couldn't hear him snoring, or she couldn't smell the cream he sometimes put on his shoulder at night--that smell, after all, lingered long after he'd left the room. It was the way the quilt felt heavy upon her. When he was in bed, the quilt rose high off her body, more like a tent than a blanket, because of the way he slept on his back with his knees bent into triangles.
She reached for the little clock and
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