Instead, Kitty got in the front seat and turned around to face him. The sun shone on the tiny beads of sweat on the down of her upper lip. She smelled of “prespiration,” which is the name we used to give lady sweat, which is a good name for it because it smells like prespiration, which smells more Presbyterian than perspiration. He smiled: I’m beginning to think like Allie.
“Who are you going to play golf with? Walter?”
“I already played eighteen holes, and not with Walter.” Her strong brown arm hugged the leather seat. The hand swung free just above his belt buckle.
Then it was afternoon. The sun had not cleared the cart shed rising; it had cleared the Mercedes roof setting.
It was odd seeing Allie in her, not just the upper lip drawn short by its double tendon but the quick economical stooping movements, the bowing of neck which caused the vertebra to surface in the smooth flesh, the risible watchfulness of the eyes searching his face. Yet somehow the liveliness which in Allie was graceful and shy became in Kitty rowdy and jostling. The hand in its pendulum arc touched his belt. The same become opposites in mother and daughter yet still remain the same. Chromosomes cast inverted but recognizable shadows of themselves
“How do you feel, Will?”
“Fine. I slept all day.”
“Lewis is here. Do you want to see him?”
“Lewis Peckham?”
She nodded. He wondered if when the fingers touched him it would leave a welt like a pendulum. “He was in the foursome.”
“With Walter and—?”
“Not with Walter. Walter is long gone.”
“Gone?”
“I mean he’s gone. Took off. All we have in common now is this business with Allie.”
“I see. How did you find me?”
“That’s my car. I parked next to you this morning.”
“You mean you saw me this morning?”
“Yes.”
He pondered the fact that Kitty had seen him, recognized him, and played eighteen holes of golf.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were sleeping very soundly and dreaming. Your lips and eyes were moving.”
“I see.”
“I did call your daughter Leslie, though. She’s been terribly concerned about you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Only that you’d be coming home when you woke up. Will you?”
“Yes. You mean she’s back from her honeymoon?”
“She doesn’t believe in honeymoons. She and Jason stayed here. She’s discovered backwoods churches where people speak in tongues. She and Jack Curl have gotten very close.”
“Jack Curl?”
“Yes. It seems they have great plans for the Peabody Foundation.” She looked at him.
“There is no Peabody Foundation — yet.”
“Well, they are planning one.”
“I see.”
“Are you sure you feel well?”
“Yes.”
“We missed you at the wedding.”
“Wedding. Oh yes.”
“Same old Will. Same old Huck Finn lighting out for the territory. You know we’ve always been two of a kind.”
“We have? How?”
“Both of us can only stand the rat race for so long. Then bye-bye, folks.”
“Was Leslie’s wedding all right?”
“Sure. Leslie read from the Bible and Jason read from The Prophet. It was very casual. Nobody blamed you for ducking out. Leslie and Jason said they would do the same in your place. In fact, both of them think you’re like them. Unstructured.”
“I am?”
“Leslie understands you better than you think, Will.”
“She does?”
“Please try to understand her.”
“Okay.”
“Poor Will.” She clucked and shook her head.
“Why poor Will?”
“What are you going to do now, Will?”
“Go home. I want to see Leslie.”
“She’s not there.”
“Where is she?”
“She and Jason have moved into a community down in the cove.”
“A community?”
“A love-and-faith community. That’s what she and Jack want to use the Peabody Foundation for, to found such communities around the world, communities for all ages. Maybe the kids know something we don’t know, Will.”
“Yes.”
“Anyhow, she’s closed the house, but she knows you are coming there.”
“I see.”
Kitty’s hand came to rest on his thigh. His thigh swelled. “Now listen, Will. This is important.”
“Okay.”
“I think I know where Allie is.”
“Allie.”
“Oh, Will, I need your help, but just look at you. You’re a mess!” Suddenly leaning over, she took hold of a handful of his flank and gave him a great friendly tweak. “Listen, Will, I need to talk to you.” But even as she said this, her mind seemed to wander. Her eyes went away. “You see that car.”
“What car?”
“My car. Right there. What does it remind you of?”
He looked at the car. It was a black Continental. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you remember Daddy’s Lincoln?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember the last time?”
“The last time?”
“After you came back from Santa Fe. Before you took off for good?”
“Ah—”
“When we parked behind the golf course like this?”
“Ah—”
“Ho ho ho you remember all right. Now, Will, listen to me.”
“All right.”
“We need to talk. About Allie, for one thing. I need to see you. Go home. Get cleaned up. Shave. My God, where have you been, laying in some gutter? Tomcattin’?” She gave him a poke. “All this time you could have been at Dun Romin’ with me taking care of you. After you get settled, come over to my villa. We need to talk about Allie. I’m right over there in number six, Dun Romin’—don’t you like that?”
“Very well, but if it’s about Allison, I’ll need to talk to Walter too.”
“Honey, I done told you. Friend Walter has split.”
“Split.”
“Checked out. Long gone. Headed for the islands, or rather the island. Come to Dun Romin’ and I’ll tell you all about it.” She hooked three fingers inside his belt and gave him a tug.
“I see.” He mused: Did Kitty’s special boldness come from a special sadness? Or do women grow more lustful as they grow older? “You and Walter are separated?”
“I told you things have been popping around here!” Now swinging around merrily, she knelt as if she were in a pew, arms on the back of the seat. Was she merry or sad? “No, seriously. It’s been in the cards for years. It’s not that Walter has this thing for his little receptionists — the older he gets, the younger they get — I couldn’t care less. What it is is there’s nothing between us. Nothing. Maybe there never was. So we’ve split. And we’ve agreed. He gets the Georgia island. I get the mountain here.”
“Don’t they belong to Allie?” He was watching her eyes, which were rounded and merry but also going away.
“Did I tell you I think I found out where Allie is?”
“No.”
“She’s here!”
“Here?”
“Not a mile from this spot. Lewis told me without knowing he was telling me. He thinks the world of you, thinks you’re the solidest citizen around. I didn’t tell him otherwise, that you’re the original flake and we’re two of a kind, the original misfits. Oh, Will, you’re the raunchiest loveliest mess I ever saw, let’s get in the Lincoln — no, I’m kidding. Lewis just happened to mention that a girl’s been living out at the old Kemp place, a shy blond little woods creature. She called it her place. Who else could it be? All he had to say was that she comes to town once a week, goes to the A & P, buys oatmeal, talks funny, says no more than three words, and I knew. It’s Allie. I’m going to see her now. Lewis drew me a map. Want to come? No, you go home.”