He wanted to tell Sammy that he was loved, that he was forgiven, that there could be a new start, a real beginning. He wanted to say, You’re safe with us, you’re surrounded by people who care for you and we won’t let you go. He wanted to pray aloud for whatever succor the words might conceivably offer. But he was mute.

He took the cue to the bed, carrying it horizontally in both hands.

At the altar of defeat, he laid the stick of grace.

Then he turned and went home to the yellow house where he had been given everything and more, none of it especially deserved.

•   •   •

ACCORDING TO CALLER ID, it was Henry Talbot.

‘Father, thank God you’re there. Please pray for . . .’ The voice broke. ‘. . . my husband.’

‘I’m praying for him faithfully. And for you, Mary.’

Mary Talbot tried to speak, but could not. He was going to say that he would do anything he could, but there was the click, and he stood for a moment holding the receiver.

•   •   •

THEY HARDLY EVER GOT TO HEAR the innocuous buzz of their doorbell, installed in the seventies by a former priest. Most people came to the side door, and UPS and FedEx historically dropped off in the garage.

Eight-fifteen was late for a visitor; he was already in his robe and pajamas following the prescribed hot shower.

He switched on the front porch light and opened the door.

Dooley was grinning. ‘Hey, Dad! Let’s go car-shoppin’.’

Chapter Thirteen

Dooley was in the lead and there was Father Tim bringing up the rear.

Hessie peered through the window of the Woolen Shop. They were running along the street close to the parked cars, and laughing.

What had happened to his freckles? Had they been surgically removed? Or do freckles at some point just vanish on their own? His cowlick had also disappeared—that had been her favorite Dooley feature when he was a boy.

Whoa, look at that—muscles, even. The grubby little kid in overalls had turned into one good-looking hunk, pardon the expression.

And what was it about Father Tim that seemed different? Loose, that was the word, as if he were as light as air, just springing along.

She opened her notebook and entered a reminder:

Google fade frkles

•   •   •

AFTER THEIR FOUR-MILER and a shower, he wrangled Dooley into lunch at the Feel Good.

‘Hand-cut,’ he said, pushing the fries to Dooley’s side of the table.

‘That’s a really nice cue you gave Sam. But nobody gets why you did it. I mean, he thinks it’s some kind of joke or a trick. I think it scared him; it didn’t make sense.’

In his experience, grace hardly ever made sense. ‘If he’s going to shoot pool, he needs a decent stick.’

‘He probably thinks he should be punished for bustin’ the old stick, and he knows you know he took yours off the rack, so it hacks him for you to make a move he can’t understand. It’s like you’re trying to pull something over on him.

‘Clyde would have half killed him for what he did; Clyde half killed him for breathing.’ Dooley called his biological father by his given name. ‘Anyway, I brought him a new one, too, so now he has a backup.’

‘Good shooters need a backup,’ he said.

‘But think about it, Dad. I gave him a really great pool table. You and Cynthia let us put it in your dining room. You took out all your furniture so he could do what he loves. How many people would do that? How can he get his head around that kind of thing? When I was a kid, I could never understand why you were so good to me, I thought you’d end up knockin’ me down or kickin’ me out, it didn’t make sense for you to be good to me. Sometimes I hated you for it, because I didn’t know what was in your head.’

He listened; ate a couple of fries.

‘So here he is,’ said Dooley, ‘actin’ like a creep. And here we are, givin’ him all this great stuff. Is that th’ message we want to send?’

‘For now, anyway.’

‘When I’m home on the twenty-sixth, I’m going to seriously work on ’im about his teeth. They’re a mess. I’ll take care of the money; he needs to get that behind him.’

‘You’ll have to catch him first.’

‘And the stuttering. It holds him back; other pool shooters give him a hard time. Maybe I’ll work on that when I’m home for Thanksgiving.’

Dooley pushed away the ketchup.

‘I thought you liked ketchup on your fries.’

‘I do, but Lace is tryin’ to get me off sugar. There’s a lot of sugar in ketchup.’

‘Lace . . .’ he said, wanting to talk about that.

‘I asked Harley if Sammy’s cool with his rent,’ said Dooley. ‘Sammy’s paying on time. It was a good decision for me to quit paying his share. He doesn’t want to be out in the cold like he was when he ditched Clyde. He’s proud to be livin’ down there—it’s warm, it’s clean, it’s cheap. Sammy’s no derp just because he acts like one.’

Dooley reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a phone, looked at it, took the phone in both hands, and used his thumbs to . . . whatever.

‘A new kind of game?’ he said.

‘Talkin’ to Lace.’

‘Talking?’

‘Texting, Dad.’

‘So how’s she getting along?’

Dooley put the phone in his pocket. ‘She didn’t say.’

That gate was locked, he may as well get used to it. ‘You know she’ll be home on the eighteenth. Any chance we can get you back our way?’

‘I’m slammed.’

‘What’s on for tonight?’

‘Sammy and Kenny—we’re goin’ out for pizza. Dutch. Then Bud’s ball hall.’

‘Sammy’s better, I take it.’

‘He’s not contagious at this point, but Harley probably is. I can’t get the flu. I’ve got something goin’ on at school Monday and Wednesday.’

‘Let’s talk about what we can do for Kenny.’

‘He wants to go home to Oregon; he’ll be here a year this December. He said he’d like to leave early January.’

Kenny had knocked on the door at Meadowgate Farm last Christmas Eve. Though hoped for and prayed for, his arrival was nonetheless unexpected. He had appeared out of the blue as the siblings he hadn’t seen since he was seven or eight years old were getting in costume for a Nativity pageant in the kitchen. It had been the Christmas miracle people wish for but seldom get.

‘I don’t want him to go back,’ said Dooley, ‘but I understand. He misses his mom and pop.’

‘Did you talk about college?’

‘He’ll work hard to make it on his own, but I know he’ll need help. He doesn’t think he should take money from us to go to school in Oregon.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘I told him that. He had great grades in high school, and a year in community college. He thinks he can get into the university in Eugene. It’s about thirty miles from his grandparents, he could probably live at home—maybe take a bus, buy a used truck, I don’t know.’ Dooley was the older brother, for sure; he had the worried look of a parent. ‘He’s got a girl in Eugene.’

‘Well, there you go.’ He would also regret losing the wise and amiable Kenny, who, among other virtues, had a good way with Sammy. ‘I’ll split some of his expenses with you. You’re going to need a good chunk of cash when you finish buying out Hal’s practice.’

Dooley laughed and Dooley grinned, but Dooley seldom smiled. Here was a smile to remember.

‘Thanks, Dad. Thanks.’

‘What about you?’ he said. ‘Tell me about you.’

‘I joined the University Chorus. That’s the Monday and Wednesday night stuff. Rehearsals. Brahms. You love Brahms.’

‘That’s great! Proud of you.’

‘A hundred and twenty singers. Big concert in April, full orchestra.’

‘Wow. We’ll come hear you in April.’

‘I thought I could forget about singing, but I really want to do it, I need to do it. Music is in my head all the time. The singing helps me figure things out.’

He realized Dooley had been staring at him intently.

‘What?’ he said.