Knute said good-bye to no one in particular and left for work. There was a lot to do. Hosea said he wanted to concentrate on painting the water tower. “Red, with a white horse running right around it,” he said. And something about turning the old feed mill into a theatre for young people. Neither of these ideas seemed feasible to Knute. Maybe a red water tower, okay, but how would they get a huge white horse painted on the top of it? “Why a horse?” she’d said. “Why not just the name Algren?”
“No,” Hosea said, “it should be a horse, a white horse.” She told him that if they painted a horse right around the top of it, it would look like the horse was chasing its butt, like a dog with worms. Then she mentioned that even though the feed mill might make a great theatre, the youth of Algren seemed more interested in playing pool at Norm’s and going to the city whenever they got the chance. Maybe Hosea could turn the feed mill into an arcade, or a shooting range, but a theatre? Summer stock? In Algren? “Well, then,” Hosea said, “see what you can do about getting rid of that black dog.” This she could handle, she thought. No problem. She could find some farmer outside town, maybe in Whithers, who would want a dog, or she’d just take it into the city, to the Humane Society, and let them find a home for it.
“By the way,” Hosea said, “his name’s Bill Quinn.”
“Bill Quinn?” said Knute. “You mean, he has a first and a last name? Bill Quinn? If he has a name, doesn’t he have an owner?”
“Nope,” Hosea said. “No, he doesn’t. He’s his own dog.”
“Oh, Bill’s a lone wolf, eh?”
“Yes, he is,” said Hosea.
Knute was about to say, “Friend of yours?” But Hosea wasn’t finished.
“Knute?” he’d said, just before walking out the door, “Please don’t let him get hurt. Just get him out of town in one piece.”
Knute said she’d do what she could and then sat for a minute and looked out the window on to Main Street. She saw Combine Jo sitting cross-legged on the hood of her car and looking at a magazine. She was wearing a fishing hat with hooks in it. God, she thought, that woman is S.F.’s grandmother. Knute looked the other way down Main Street and there were Marilyn and Josh! She opened the window and stuck her head out. “Marilyn! Hello!” she yelled. “What are you doing here?” Before she could answer Combine Jo yelled up at Knute.
“Hey, Knutie! I’m looking at my Canadian Tire book here, and kids’ bikes are cheap! Do you think Summer Feelin’ would want one? Does she ride a two-wheeler yet, or a trike? Max could teach her how to ride a two-wheeler, or we could get a two-wheeler and put the, what do you call ’em, training wheels on it. What do you think? Why don’t you come down here and have a look! There is one in here with a very sharp racing stripe, and it’s purple, did you know purple is S.F.’s favourite colour? And a basket would be nice, too, don’t you think?”
Combine Jo pushed her fishing hat back on her head and peered up at Knute’s window. She pointed to her catalogue and yelled, “It’s all in here, in here!” Marilyn and Josh, by this time, were standing beside Jo’s car, looking at her and up at Knute and back at Jo, and Marilyn was grinning.
“Hello,” said Combine Jo.
“Marilyn!” Knute yelled from the window. “This is Jo, Max’s mom, and Jo, this is Marilyn, my friend, and her son, Josh.” Knute felt like throwing herself out the window onto the pavement below.
“Is he here?” asked Marilyn.
“Is who here?” Knute yelled.
“Max!” she said.
“Yes, he is,” said Jo. “He’s got S.F. at home with him right now, or they’re somewhere around, who knows, he looks after S.F. while Knutie works for the mayor.”
“Well,” said Marilyn. “There have been developments.” She and Knute looked at each other and smiled. Combine Jo went back to her catalogue.
“Jo,” said Knute, “go ahead and get her a bike, with training wheels if you want. And, uh, thanks.”
“Hear that?” said Jo to Marilyn. “That’s the sound of ice breaking. Have a good time, you two,” Jo said to Marilyn. “Knutie needs a friend, you know. We all do from time to time.”
“That’s true,” said Marilyn, smiling, and disappeared into the building.
“Hey!” Jo yelled up to the window. “Knutie! Why don’t you bring your friend’s kid over to my house and Max can look after both of ’em? It would be good for S.F. to have a playmate for a change and then you two gals can have a real good talk, maybe a drink, Hosea wouldn’t mind if you called it a day. Tell him I told you to punch out.”
Knute felt like saying to Jo, “Would you shut the fuck up, please?” But instead she said, “Yeah maybe, maybe,” and slammed the window shut.
Marilyn and Josh came into the office. Marilyn and Knute, both laughing by then, gave each other a big hug. “How’s it going, buddy?” said Knute to Josh.
“Fine,” he said. “Can I play with Summer Feelin’?”
Marilyn and Knute looked at each other. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” Marilyn asked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t know,” said Knute. “Because I know you would have told me to ignore him totally, or kill him, or have mad passionate et cetera, et cetera [Josh was in the room] with him, and none of those things has happened. It’s all been just, you know, ordinary, really. I thought I’d be letting you down.”
“Ordinary?” said Marilyn. “Well, that is too bad. But you could have told me, anyway. I need to know these things. We’re best friends! You should have told me.”
“I know, I know,” Knute said.
“So that’s Combine Jo, eh?” said Marilyn.
“Yeah.” Knute rolled her eyes.
“She’s cool,” said Marilyn.
“Cool? Combine Jo? You gotta be kidding. She’s nuts.”
“Well,” said Marilyn, “she wants to buy S.F. a bike, that’s cool. She’s nice.”
“God, Marilyn, you have no idea. She’s a drunk. She’s crazy.”
“Well,” said Marilyn. “I would be, too, if I was Max’s mom and if I lived in this weird town and everybody was pissed off at me for something I did a hundred years ago.”
“I’m not pissed off at her for what she did way back then, I’m pissed off at her for telling Max to leave me when I was pregnant,” said Knute.
“Well,” said Marilyn. “I hate to tell you this, beautiful dreamer, but she didn’t put a gun to his head.”
“Oh, don’t be so sure,” Knute said. “Anyway, you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I need to know these things. We’re best friends.”
Marilyn smiled. “I didn’t know we were coming. Josh and I were walking around downtown ’cause it’s nice out and there was the bus station, and there was my cheque in my pocket, and there was the bus to Algren, and there you go. Here we are.”
“Here we are,” said Knute, smiling.
“When can I play with Summer Feelin’?” Josh asked. Knute looked over at Marilyn.
“Do you want to bring him over to Max’s?”
“Sure, what the heck. I’m dying to meet him, actually. Has he changed?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
“I guess.”
“You’re still hot for him, I can tell. Aren’t you, Knute?”
Before Knute could say anything, Marilyn said, “What about this guy, this mayor dude, is he cute?”
“Cute?” Knute said. “He’s old.”
“So?”
“I don’t think he’s cute. Well, maybe. Naah. And he’s got some kind of a girlfriend, her last name’s Garden.”
“Garden?” said Marilyn. “Weird name. Garden of Eden, forbidden fruit. What’s his name? Hosea? Strange biblical setup if you ask me. Can I meet him?”