"Sure," Leroy answered for both of them. She was hugging her baseball glove to her chest.
Ira said, "Bet you didn't expect us to have a wreck before we'd left your driveway, did you?"
"Didn't expect you to go asking for a wreck, either," Fiona told him.
Ira glanced over at Maggie with his eyebrows raised.
By now the sun had dropped out of sight and the sky had lost its color.
All the pastures were turning up their undersides in a sudden breeze.
Leroy said, "How long is this trip going to take us anyhow?"
"Just an hour or so," Fiona told her. "You remember how far it is to Baltimore."
Maggie said, "Leroy remembers Baltimore?"
"From visiting my sister."
"Oh. Of course," Maggie said.
She watched the scenery for a while. Something about the fading light gave the little houses a meek, defeated look. Finally she forced herself to ask, "How is your sister, Fiona?"
"She's fine, considering," Fiona said. "You knew she lost her husband."
"I didn't realize she was married, even."
"Well, no, I guess you wouldn't," Fiona said. "She married her boyfriend?
Avery? And he died not six weeks later in a construction accident."
"Oh, poor Crystal," Maggie said. "What is happening here? Everyone's losing their husbands. Did I tell you we've just come from Max Gill's funeral?"
"Yes, but I don't think I knew him," Fiona said.
"You must have known him! He was married to my friend Serena that I went to school with. The Gills. I'm positive you met them."
"Well, those people were old, though," Fiona said. "Or not old, maybe, but you know. Crystal and Avery, there were barely back from their honeymoon. When you've been married only six weeks everything is still perfect.''
And later it is not, was her implication. Which Maggie couldn't argue with. Still, it saddened her to realize they all took such a thing for granted.
A stop sign loomed ahead and Ira slowed and then turned onto Route One. After the country roads they had been traveling, Route One seemed more impressive. Trucks were streaming toward them, a few with their headlights already on. Someone had set a hand-lettered signboard on the porch of a little cafe: SUPPER NOW BEING SERVED. Good farm food, no doubt-corn on the cob and biscuits. Maggie said, "I suppose we should stop for groceries on the way home. Leroy, are you starved?"
Leroy nodded emphatically.
"I haven't had a thing but chips and pretzels since morning," Maggie said.
"That and a beer in broad daylight," Ira reminded her.
Maggie pretended not to hear him. "Leroy," she said, "tell me what your favorite food is."
Leroy said, "Oh, I don't know."
"There must be something."
Leroy poked a fist into the palm of her baseball glove.
"Hamburgers? Hot dogs?" Maggie asked. "Charcoaled steaks? Or how about crabs?"
Leroy said, "Crabs in their shells, you mean? Ick!"
Maggie felt suddenly at a loss.
"She's partial to fried chicken," Fiona said. "She asks Mom to fix that all the time. Don't you, Leroy?"
"Fried chicken! Perfect," Maggie said. "We'll pick up the makings on our way into town. Won't that be nice?"
Leroy remained silent, and no wonder; Maggie knew how chirpy and artificial she sounded. An old person, trying too hard. But if only Leroy could see that Maggie was still young underneath, just peering out from behind an older face mask!
Now all at once Ira cleared his throat. Maggie tensed. Ira said, "Um, Fiona, Leroy . . . you heard we're taking Daisy to college tomorrow."
"Yes, Maggie told me," Fiona said. "I can't believe it: eentsy little Daisy."
"I mean, we two are going to be driving her. We're starting early in the morning."
"Not that early," Maggie said quickly.
"Well, eight or nine o'clock, Maggie."
"What's your point?" Fiona asked Ira. "You don't think we ought to be visiting?"
Maggie said, "Good heavens, no! He didn't mean that at all."
"Well, it sounded to me like he did," Fiona said.
Ira said, "I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting into.
That it would have to be such a short stay, I mean."
"That's no problem, Ira," Maggie told him. "If she wants she can go on over to her sister's in the morning."
"Well, fine then, but it's getting dark and we're not even halfway home.
I would think-"
"Maybe we better just stop right here and go back where we came from,"
Fiona said.
"Oh, no, Fiona!" Maggie cried. "We had this all settled!"
"I can't remember now why I said we'd come in the first place," Fiona said. "Lord! What must I have been thinking of?"
Maggie unbuckled her seat belt and twisted around so she was facing Fiona. "Fiona, please," she said. "It's only for a little while, and it's been so long since we've seen Leroy. I've got all these things I want to show her. I want her to meet Daisy and I was planning to take her by the Larkin sisters'; they won't believe how she's grown."
"Who're the Larkin sisters?" Leroy asked.
"These two old ladies; they used to set out their rocking horse for you to ride on."
Fiona said, "I don't remember that."
"We'd pass by their porch and it would be empty, and then when we turned around to come home the horse would be sitting there waiting."
"I don't remember a thing about it," Fiona said.
Leroy said, "Me neither."
"Well of course you wouldn't," Fiona told her. "You were just a baby. You didn't live there hardly any time at all."
This struck Maggie as unfair. She said, "Well, goodness, she was nearly a year old when you left, Fiona."
"She was not! She was barely seven months."
"That's not right; she had to have been, oh, eight months at least. If you left in September-"
"Seven months, eight months, what's the difference?" Ira asked. "Why make a federal case of it?" He found Leroy's face in the mirror and said, "I bet you don't remember how your grandma tried to teach you to say
'Daddy,' either."
"I did?" Maggie asked.
"It was going to be a surprise for his birthday," Ira told Leroy. "She would clap her hands-and you were supposed to say 'Daddy' on cue. But when she clapped her hands all you'd do was laugh. You thought it was some kind of game."
Maggie tried to picture that. Why did her memories never coincide with Ira's? Instead they seemed to dovetail-one moment his to recall and the next hers, as if they had agreed to split their joint life between them.
(Illogically, she always worried about whether she had behaved right during those moments she had forgotten.)
"So did it work, or not?" Leroy was asking Ira.
"Work?"
"Did I learn to say 'Daddy'?"
"Well, no, actually," Ira said. "You were way too little to be talking yet."
"Oh."
Leroy seemed to be digesting that. Then she sat for-ward so she was practically nose to nose with Maggie. Her eyes had darker blue specks in them, as if even they were freckled. "I am going to get to see him, aren't I?" she said. "He's not giving a concert or anything, is he?"
"Who?" Maggie asked, although of course she knew.
"My ... Jesse."
"Well, certainly you are. You'll see him at supper after he gets off work. He loves fried chicken, just like you. It must be genetic."
"The thing of it is-" Ira began.
Maggie said, "What do you like for dessert, Leroy?"
"The thing of it is," Ira said, "this is Saturday night. What if Jesse has other plans and he can't make supper?"
"But he can make supper, Ira; I already told you that."
"Or if he has to leave right after. I mean what are we doing here, Maggie? We don't have any toys anymore or any sports equipment and our TV is on the blink. We don't have anything to keep a child occupied. And would you please face forward and fasten your seat belt? You're making me nervous."