Joe thought of his bumbling father—because he remembered something the old man had told him. “Look out for a soup carrier,” Joe’s father had said. “Take one of them dames that’s always carrying soup to somebody—she wants something, and don’t you forget it.”

Joe said under his breath, “A soup carrier. I thought she was smarter than that.” He went over her tone and words to make sure he hadn’t missed something. No—a soup carrier. And he thought of Alf saying, “If she was to offer a drink or even a cupcake—”

3

Kate sat at her desk. She could hear the wind in the tall privet in the yard, and the wind and the darkness were full of Ethel—fat, sloppy Ethel oozing near like a jellyfish. A dull weariness came over her.

She went into the lean-to, the gray room, and closed the door and sat in the darkness, listening to the pain creep back into her fingers. Her temples beat with pounding blood. She felt for the capsule hanging in its tube on the chain around her neck, she rubbed the metal tube, warm from her breast, against her cheek, and her courage came back. She washed her face and put on make-up, combed and puffed her hair in a loose pompadour. She moved into the hall and at the door of the parlor she paused, as always, listening.

To the right of the door two girls and a man were talking. As soon as Kate stepped inside the talk stopped instantly. Kate said, “Helen, I want to see you if you aren’t busy right now.”

The girl followed her down the hall and into her room. She was a pale blond with a skin like clean and polished bone. “Is something the matter, Miss Kate?” she asked fearfully.

“Sit down. No. Nothing’s the matter. You went to the Nigger’s funeral.”

“Didn’t you want me to?”

“I don’t care about that. You went.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What about it?”

“Tell me what you remember—how it was.”

Helen said nervously, “Well, it was kind of awful and—kind of beautiful.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. No flowers, no nothing, but there was—there was a—well, a kind of—dignity. The Nigger was just laying there in a black wood coffin with the biggest goddam silver handles. Made you feel—I can’t say it. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Maybe you said it. What did she wear?”

“Wear, ma’am?”

“Yes—wear. They didn’t bury her naked, did they?”

A struggle of effort crossed Helen’s face. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I don’t remember.”

“Did you go to the cemetery?”

“No, ma’am. Nobody did—except him.”

“Who?”

“Her man.”

Kate said quickly—almost too quickly, “Have you got any regulars tonight?”

“No, ma’am. Day before Thanksgiving. Bound to be slow.”

“I’d forgotten,” said Kate. “Get back out.” She watched the girl out of the room and moved restlessly back to her desk. And as she looked at an itemized bill for plumbing her left hand strayed to her neck and touched the chain. It was comfort and reassurance.

Chapter 49

1

Both Lee and Cal tried to argue Adam out of going to meet the train, the Lark night train from San Francisco to Los Angeles.

Cal said, “Why don’t we let Abra go alone? He’ll want to see her first.”

“I think he won’t know anybody else is there,” said Lee. “So it doesn’t matter whether we go or not.”

“I want to see him get off the train,” said Adam. “He’ll be changed. I want to see what change there is.”

Lee said, “He’s only been gone a couple of months. He can’t be very changed, nor much older.”

“He’ll be changed. Experience will do that.”

“If you go we’ll all have to go,” said Cal.

“Don’t you want to see your brother?” Adam asked sternly.

“Sure, but he won’t want to see me—not right at first.”

“He will too,” said Adam. “Don’t you underrate Aron.”

Lee threw up his hands. “I guess we all go,” he said.

“Can you imagine?” said Adam. “He’ll know so many new things. I wonder if he’ll talk different. You know, Lee, in the East a boy takes on the speech of his school. You can tell a Harvard man from a Princeton man. At least that’s what they say.”

“I’ll listen,” said Lee. “I wonder what dialect they speak at Stanford. “ He smiled at Cal.

Adam didn’t think it was funny. “Did you put some fruit in his room?” he asked. “He loves fruit.”

“Pears and apples and muscat grapes,” said Lee.

“Yes, he loves muscats. I remember he loves muscats.”

Under Adam’s urging they got to the Southern Pacific Depot half an hour before the train was due. Abra was already there.

“I can’t come to dinner tomorrow, Lee,” she said. “My father wants me home. I’ll come as soon after as I can.”

“You’re a little breathless,” said Lee.

“Aren’t you?”

“I guess I am,” said Lee. “Look up the track and see if the block’s turned green.”