“Why, Carl Ray? Why did he give it to you?”
“Look, Mary Lou. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? I have to go think awhile. I promise I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
Oh brother. He’d better tell me or I’m going to kill him.
Just phoned Alex again. No answer. Groannnn. I’m going to bed. Please let him be home tomorrow, Athene, please.
Oh, King of Kings and Alpha and Omega! I am definitely going to go cra-zeeee.
First of all, that beefbrained Beth Ann. She called here four times this morning wanting to talk to Carl Ray. The first two times I said he was still in bed and I wasn’t going to wake him up. The third time she begged and moaned, so I went up to wake him, and he wasn’t there! So I told her that and she wanted to know where he was.
I said, “I’m not my brother’s keeper, Beth Ann.”
She said, “He’s not your stupid brother, Mary Lou.”
She called again an hour later and wanted to know if he was back yet. I said, “Nope.” She wanted to know when he would be back.
I said, “I’m not my brother’s k—”
Then Carl Ray came home. I told him about besotted Beth Ann. He said he’d call her later. I said, “Good for you, Carl Ray.” I was glad he didn’t go rushing to the phone.
Then I asked him if he’d drive me to the drugstore. I didn’t have to go to the drugstore, but I knew that was the only way I was going to get him alone so he could tell me the rest of the story about the ring.
I should mention, however, that before Carl Ray came home, I called Alex again. He wasn’t home. I’m going to die.
So Carl Ray and I got in the car.
“Okay,” I said, “finish your story, and don’t give me any business about ‘What story?’ You know exactly what I mean. About Mrs. Furtz. She wanted to know where you got the stupid ring and you told her that Mr. Furtz gave it to you, and I asked why, and you didn’t answer. And by the way, I want to know exactly why you came here to Easton and exactly who your father is. I want to know it all, Carl Ray.”
He gave me one of those mournful looks. “I came here because my mother said that my father—the real one—lived here in Easton.”
“In Easton? God! Easton?” I was trying to think of everybody I knew who was old enough to be Carl Ray’s father. I had this horrible thought that what if it was my father? That was too horrible to even think about. Then I thought of Mr. Furtz, but Mr. Furtz was dead and, besides, he didn’t even know Carl Ray until Carl Ray got a job at the hardware store. Then I thought of Mr. Cheevey, for some reason, and as soon as I thought of Mr. Cheevey, I thought, Of course! Mr. Cheevey has those long arms and those long legs and that skinny body and that little bitty head and those freckles. Boy, have I been stupid! All that other stuff—the money and the college education—must have come from his real father. Of course! Mr. Cheevey has lots of money. But eck—Alex and Carl Ray as brothers? Eck. I said, “WHO IS IT? WHO IS YOUR FATHER?”
“You don’t have to yell.”
“I DO! I DO! I DO!” I stopped. I counted to twenty. I breathed deeply. “Okay, Carl Ray,” I said, in this very sweet and soft voice. “Did you find your father here in Easton?”
He nodded.
Softly, sweetly, I said, “Who is it, Carl Ray?”
He looked all mournful. “I have to do one more thing first, and then I’ll tell you.”
Aargh. “And when might that be? I am only asking for an approximate time. Tomorrow? Wednesday? Next week? Next year? In ten years?”
“Pretty soon.”
“Very good. Very good indeed, Carl Ray. Thank you for telling me all of this.” Sometimes when you talk with Carl Ray for a while, you begin to lose your marbles and talk like an idiot.
Oh, King of Kings!
Alex is home! Finally! Sigh.
I haven’t seen him yet. I called and called his house all day and was just about to expire from despair because no one was home, no answer, no nothing.
And then, after dinner, he called. They made a “side trip” to visit some old friend of his father’s and that’s why they didn’t get back on Tuesday. He’s fine, he missed me, and he wants me to go over there tomorrow. Maybe Carl Ray will drive me over. I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow night. God, I’m hopeless.
Right after I finished talking to Alex, the phone rang and Maggie answered it, and she said it was for Carl Ray. He mainly listened, and every once in a while he would say, “Yup,” and “Okay.” I knew it wasn’t Beth Ann, because when he’s talking to her on the phone, he messes with his hair.
When he hung up, I said, “So, who was it?”
He said, “Just somebody. Nothin’ important.”
Honestly. People. I didn’t even ask him about any of his secrets. I think the trick with Carl Ray is that you have to give him a little time. You have to be patient. I am going to learn to be more patient.
Oh, Deity, Omnipotent, Alpha and Omega, King of Kings and Supreme Being!!!!
You won’t believe it.
You really won’t.
But then again, maybe you will. Maybe you haven’t been as stupid as I have been.
Calm down, Mary Lou. Tell it from the beginning.
First of all, while Carl Ray was at work today, the mail came and there was a letter for Carl Ray from Aunt Radene. I kept looking at that letter. I held it to the light but couldn’t see anything at all. Then I examined the flap to see if it would open easily. Stuck down tighter than anything. I thought about trying to steam it open, but the last time I did that (with one of Maggie’s letters) I burned my hand, and it didn’t work anyway, and Maggie could tell someone had been trying to get her letter open and she went berserk.
So I had to wait.
As soon as Carl Ray got home, I gave him the letter. Then I stood there while he looked at it. He didn’t open it. He started up to his room. I said, “It’s from your mother.”
He said, “I know.”
God.
Then I asked him if he’d take me over to Alex’s after dinner. He said, “Sure,” and he went on upstairs.
He came down for dinner with a tie on! Everybody started teasing him.
“Goin’ out with Beth Ann?” Dennis asked.
“Hot date, huh?” said Dougie.
“Didn’t know you owned a tie, Carl Ray,” Maggie said.
But Carl Ray just ate his dinner.
Then he drove me to Alex’s. He seemed so nervous. I figured Aunt Radene must have really shaken him up by her letter. So I said, “What did your mom have to say?”
“Oh, stuff.”
“Yeah. Stuff. Like what?” I get right to the point, don’t I? So much for patience.
“She told me that I could tell people about my real father if I wanted to. She said she had a long talk with my other father—the Carl Joe one—and he understands now why I was so mad at first and why I had to come up here to find him—the other father. He—Carl Joe was jealous, she said.”
I counted to ten. “So is it okay for you to tell who your real father is? Can you tell me now? Can you?” He pulled into the Big Boy parking lot and stopped the car. I counted to twenty. I breathed very deeply.
And then HE SAID IT. He just came right out and said, “Mr. Furtz is my father.”
Holy cow. Alpha and Omega. All I could say was, “Mr. Furtz?”
And Carl Ray sat there nodding like an idiot, but all of a sudden he started to cry, and all of a sudden I remembered that Mr. Furtz was dead, and so I started patting Carl Ray on the shoulder. Mr. Furtz! When he calmed down a little, he told me the whole story. If I put it down just as Carl Ray said it, with me in between counting to thirty and forty and fifty and holding my breath, it would take me a whole journal. So I’ll summarize it to the best of my ability.