“So you came to the house.”
“Of course.”
“You want me to look for your horse?”
“He’s probably still running.”
Cable paused. He was certain she was here for a reason and he was feeling his way along to find out what it was. “I’ve only got one horse here.”
“I know,” Lorraine said.
“You want me to ride you home?”
“The way my head hurts I don’t know if I could stand it.”
“Just for an hour? That’s all it would take.”
She was staring at Cable, not smiling now, holding him with the calm, knowing impudence of her gaze.
“We could wait until morning.”
He almost knew she was going to say it; still, the shock, the surprise, was in hearing the words out loud. Cable’s expression did not change. “What would your father say about that?”
“What could he say? I don’t have a choice. I’m stranded.”
Cable said nothing.
“Or I could tell him I spent the night outside.” Lorraine smiled again. “Lost.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“What do you think?”
“If you’re ready, I’ll saddle the horse.”
“I told you, I couldn’t bear the ride.”
“You told me a lot of things.”
The knowing, confident expression was in her eyes again. “I think you’re afraid of me. Or afraid of yourself.”
“Being alone with you?”
Lorraine nodded. “But I haven’t decided which it is. The only thing I’m sure of is you don’t know what to do. You can’t take me home by force; and you can’t throw me out. So?”
Momentarily, in his mind, he saw Lorraine at home sitting with Vern and her father evening after evening, looking up from her book and wanting to do something, anything, to break the monotony but having no choice but to sit there. Until she planned this, or somehow stumbled into it. Perhaps that was all there was to her being here. It was her idea of excitement, something to do; not part of a plan that involved Vern or Duane.
So, Cable thought, the hell with it. He was too tired to argue. Tired and hungry and her mind was made up, he could see that. He moved to the door of the next room, glanced in and saw that the two single beds had not been touched, then looked at Lorraine again.
“Take your pick.”
She moved close to him in the doorway to look into the room. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Whichever one you want.” He walked away from her and for the next few minutes concentrated on shaping and straightening the stove flue. He was able to put it up again, temporarily, but his hands and face were smudged with soot when he’d finished.
Lorraine waited until he started a fire in the stove, then told him to go outside and wash; she’d fix something to eat. Cable hesitated, doubting her ability at the stove; but finally he went out-washed up at the river, scrubbing his hands with sand and scooping the cool water into his face. He felt better being alone outside and he took his time at the river, then went to the barn and looked in at the sorrel again before returning to the house.
Coffee was on the fire; Cable smelled it as he came in. For a moment he watched Lorraine making pancakes in the iron frying pan and he thought: She wants you to be surprised. But he turned away from her and busied himself sweeping up the broken china. After that he turned the slashed mattress on the bed and spread the bedcovers over it. When it was time to sit down she served him the corn meal cakes in a pie plate and poured his coffee into a tin drinking cup. Lorraine sat down with him, watching him eat, waiting for him to say something; but Cable ate in silence.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Fine.” He was finishing the last of his coffee.
“Surprised I know how to cook?”
“You’re a woman, aren’t you?” he answered, knowing she would react to it, but saying it anyway.
“Does that follow,” Lorraine said peevishly. “Just because you’re a woman all you’re to be concerned with is cooking and keeping house?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re probably hopeless. You deserve to live out here with a wife and three kids.”
“You make it sound like a sentence.”
“You are hopeless.”
“And tired,” Cable said. He got up from the table, walked around to Lorraine’s chair and pulled it out for her. “So are you.”
She looked up at him. “Am I?” Her tone was mild now.
“Tired out from that long ride with Vern.” He took Lorraine by the arm to the bedroom. “Have a good sleep and before you know it it’ll be time to fix breakfast.” He pushed her inside and closed the door before she could say a word.
Cable blew out the lamp, then walked to the open front door and stood looking out at the night, letting the stillness and the breeze that was coming off the meadow relax him. This was good. But it was a peace that lasted only as long as the night. Slowly Cable sat down in the doorway. Take advantage of the peace you can feel, he thought. Sleep was good, but it wasn’t something you could enjoy each minute of and know you were enjoying it.
So he sat in the doorway, feeling the silence and the darkness about him, thinking of his wife and children, picturing them in bed in the rooms above the store; then picturing them here, seeing himself sitting with the children close to him and talking to them, answering their questions, being patient and answering the questions that were unrelated or imaginary along with the reasonable ones. Clare would ask the most questions and through her eyes that were wide with concentration he could almost see her picturing his answers. It was like the times she would relate a dream she had had and he would try to imagine how she saw it with her child’s eyes and with her child’s mind. While he was talking to Clare, Davis would become restless and jump on his back, Davis with enough energy for all of them and wanting to fight or be chased or swim in the river. Sandy, lying against him, listening to them contentedly with his thumb in his mouth, would scowl and yell at Davis to stop it. Then he would quiet them and they would talk about other things until Martha called.
And after the children were in bed they would sit here on the steps, watching the willows turn to silent black shapes against the sky, hearing the night sounds in the pines and far out on the meadow. They would talk in low murmurs, feeling the familiar nearness of one another. They talked about the children and the house and about things they had done and about things they would do someday; but not talking about the future, because if they accomplished or acquired nothing more than what they had, it would be enough and they would be satisfied; perhaps as happy as anyone, any family, could expect to be.
If you can hold on to what you have, Cable thought. Right now you would settle just for that and not hope for anything more.
He was certain that the Kidstons had damaged the house, as a warning. Maybe not Vern. It seemed more like something Duane would do. But regardless of who did it, the effect was the same.
He heard the sound behind him, the bedroom door opening and closing. He turned, starting to push himself up, but Lorraine was already over him. Her hand went to his shoulder and she sank down beside him.
“I thought you were tired.”
“I’m going to bed in a minute,” Cable said. He saw that Lorraine was wearing one of Martha’s flannel nightgowns. He had felt it as she brushed against him to sit down.
“What were you thinking about?”
“A lot of things at once, I suppose.”
“Vern and Duane…the happiness boys?”
He looked at her. “I’d like to know what you’re doing here.”
“I explained all that.”
“You didn’t any more get thrown than I did.”
Lorraine smiled. “But I had to tell you something.”
“Did Vern send you?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Keeping you company.”
“I guess you are.”
Lorraine moved, rising to her knees and turning to him. Her hands went to his shoulders, then to his face caressingly as she kissed him.