They played into her hands. They found her a burden, a nuisance. They began to bicker and quarrel about her. Neither one wanted to be annoyed moving her chair or feeding her. He had more humanity than the woman. No, that was not it either — not real humanity, consideration. It was just that he was less reckless than Vera, more craven.
“But we can’t just let her starve, and she can’t feed herself! She’ll die on our hands for lack of attention, and then they’re liable to find out we neglected her, and one thing’ll lead to another, and first thing you know they’ll reopen the other thing, start putting two and two together, asking questions.”
“Well then, hire somebody to look after her. I’m not staying home all the time to spoon mush into her mouth, tuck her into bed! Get a companion for her. We’ve got dough enough for that now. Or else get rid of her altogether, farm her out to some nursing home.”
“No, not yet. We gotta keep her with us a few months, at least, until we’ve cooled off,” he insisted. “And yet I don’t like the idea of letting a stranger in here with us. It’s kind of risky. Especially somebody from the neighborhood that used to know Miller. We’ve got to be careful. One of us is liable to shoot our mouths off when we’ve got a lot of booze in us.”
While he was trying to make up his mind whether or not to take a chance, advertise or go to an agency, the matter was decided for him by one of those fortuitous coincidences that sometimes happen. A well-spoken young fellow, apparently down on his luck, was passing by one morning, and seeing Haggard on the front porch, approached timorously and asked if there was any work he could do, such as mowing the lawn or washing the windows. He explained that he was hitchhiking his way across country, and had just reached town half an hour before. As a matter of fact, he was packing a small bundle with him, apparently the sum total of his worldly goods.
Haggard looked him over speculatively. Then he glanced at the old lady. That seemed to give him an idea. “Come in a minute,” he said.
Janet Miller could hear him talking to him in the living-room. Then he called Vera down and consulted with her. She seemed to approve — probably only too glad to have someone take the old lady off their hands.
She brought him outside with her right after that, minus his bundle now.
“Here she is,” she said curtly. “Now you understand what’s required, don’t you? We’ll be out a good deal. You’ve got to spoon-feed her, and don’t take any nonsense from her. She’s got a cute little habit of going on hunger strikes. Pinch her nose until she has to open her mouth for air, if you have any trouble with her. You sleep out, but get here about nine so you can take her down on the porch. You don’t need to worry about dressing her, just wrap her in a blanket if I’m not up. Take her back to her room at night, after she’s been fed. That’s about all there is to it. I want someone in the house with her while we’re out, just to see that nothing happens.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said submissively.
“All right — what’s your name again?”
“Casement.”
“All right, Casement. Mr. Haggard’s already told you what you’re to get. That about covers everything. You can consider yourself hired. Bring out a chair for yourself, if you want one.”
He sat down to one side of the rubber-tired wheelchair, where he could watch her, hands on knees, legs apart.
They looked at each other, the old woman and the young man.
He smiled a little at her, tentatively. She could read sympathy behind it. She sensed, somehow, that this was his first case of the kind, that he’d never come into contact with anything like this before.
After about half an hour he got up, said, “I think I’ll get a glass of water. You want one too?” as though she could have answered. Then remembering that she couldn’t, he stood there at a loss, looking at her. He was very inexperienced at a job like this; that could be seen with half an eye. He mumbled, half to himself, “How’m I going to tell when you...” Then rubbed his neck baffledly.
He turned and went inside anyway. He came out again in a minute, bringing one for her. He carried it over to her and stood with it, looking down at her uncertainly. She blinked her eyes twice to show him she was thirsty. To show him — if possible — a little more than that. He held it to her lips and slowly let its contents trickle into her mouth until it was empty.
“Want any more?” he asked.
She blinked once this time.
He put the glass down on the floor and stood looking at her, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Sometimes you blink twice in a hurry, sometimes you just blink once. What is that for, yes and no? Well now, let’s find out just to make sure.” He picked up a newspaper, found the word “yes” in it, held his finger under it and showed it to her. She blinked twice. Then he found a “no,” showed that to her. She blinked once.
“Well, now we’re that much ahead, aren’t we?” he said cheerfully.
Her eyes seemed to be smiling — they were very expressive eyes. The code — she had her old code with Vern back again, as easy as that! He was a very smart young man.
The afternoon waned. He pushed her chair in to the supper table, sat and spooned her food to her mouth for her, a little awkwardly at first, but he soon got the hang of it, learned he must not load the spoon too much, as her jaws could only open to a limited extent.
Vera gave him a look. “You seem to have better luck with her than we did ourselves. She’ll swallow for you, at least.”
“Sure,” he said comfortably without taking his eyes from what he was doing, “Mrs. Miller and I are going to be great friends.”
Janet Miller couldn’t account for it, but he had spoken the truth. She could feel a sense of confidence, almost of alliance with him, without knowing why.
He carried her up to her room later and she didn’t see him any more that night. But she lay there in the dark, content. The flame burned high, unquenchable. Perhaps...
In the morning he came up to get her, carried her downstairs, gave her orange juice to drink, and sat with her on the front porch. For a while he just sat, basking as she was. Then presently he turned his head and glanced behind him at the front windows of the house, as if to ascertain whether anyone was in those rooms or not. But the way he did it was so casual she didn’t read any meaning into it. Perhaps he was just thinking to himself that the Haggards were late risers.
He said in a rather low voice, almost an undertone: “Do you like Mr. Haggard?”
Her eyes snapped just once, like a blue electric spark.
He waited awhile, then he said: “Do you like Mrs. Haggard?”
The negative blink this time was almost ferocious.
“I wonder why,” he said slowly, but it didn’t sound like a question.
That sense of alliance, of confederacy, came over her again, stronger than ever. Her eyes were fastened on him hopefully.
“It’s too bad we can’t talk,” he sighed and relapsed into silence.
Vera came downstairs, and then presently Haggard followed her. They began to bicker and their voices were clearly audible out on the porch.
“I gave you fifty only last night!” she snarled. “Go easy, will you?”
“What’re you trying to do, keep me on an allowance?”
“Whose money is it, anyway?”
“If it wasn’t for me, you—”
There was a warning “Sh!” followed by, “Don’t forget the old lady ain’t by herself out there no more.”
The sudden restraint spoke more eloquently than any reckless revelation could have. Janet Miller’s eyes were on Casement’s face. He gave not the slightest sign of having heard anything that surprised him.