Searching for Caleb

All the next morning the telephone sat silent on the bureau with its comical stub of a tail sticking out. In the afternoon, when they were leaving to do some shopping in town, Duncan locked the front door so that no repairman could come while they were gone. "You know the family is going to let them hear about this," he said. "They'll be sending undercover men with their little bags of tools." And sure enough, when they got back there was a card hanging from the doorknob. "What a pity, our telephone representative has been and gone," he said. Still, Justine only laughed.

But in the evening, when they were sitting on the porch, something stopped her rocking. She straightened suddenly and frowned. "Duncan," she said.

"Hmm?"

"I have this funny feeling."

Duncan had been reading a book on how to start a chicken farm, sliding a flashlight down the page because it was already dark. He raised the flashlight now and shone it into her face.

"Something terrible is going on at home," she told him.

"Something terrible's always going on at home."

"I mean it. This is serious. I really mean it."

"What, have you turned psychic?"

"No, but I can tell if there's going to be a change of some kind."

He rocked and waited.

"We have to go there," she said.

The flashlight clicked off.

"I'm sorry, Duncan. I'll go alone if you'd rather. But I just feel I-"

"All right, all right."

While she packed an overnight case, he drove up the hill to ask Junior Jordan to tend the goats. They could have done that weeks ago! But then, Justine knew that as well as Duncan. She waited on the porch, clutching her case, shivering a little although the night was warm. When she saw his close-set headlights bobbing toward her, she ran down the steps and opened the car door. "It's all set," Duncan told her. "Climb in."

The car seemed to be drawn down the road by two long yellow cones.

Justine was reminded of other trips, before they were married, rushing home to beat a curfew. All through that silent drive she had the feeling that she was some younger, smaller self, anxiously chewing the ribbons of her hat while she wondered if she would be scolded for staying out so late.

In Guilford, at eight o'clock that morning, Sam Mayhew's cleaning lady had found him dead in his kitchen. He was wearing a bathrobe and there was a roll of Turns on the floor beside him. Apparently he had suffered a heart attack. By ten o'clock old Mr. Mayhew had called the Pecks, but at five o'clock that evening Caroline still knew nothing about it. Nobody wanted to tell her. Instead they huddled in small groups downstairs in Great-Grandma's house, whispering bulletins back and forth. "She's in her bed eating the chocolates Marcus brought her." "She's watching a program on flower arranging." "She's trying to get Justine on the telephone again." "Oh, if only we could just never tell her and this would all blow over!"

Then the grandfather arrived from work. He was forcibly retired now but he liked to prowl around his sons' offices, checking up. "What's this?"

he said, seeing clusters of women everywhere. When they told him he shook his head sharply, as if getting rid of a fly. "What? But how old was he?

Not even out of his forties! And had a heart attack? What kind of stock did the man come from, for God's sake?"

Then he went to break the news to Caroline. The others stood around downstairs, pretending to talk but trailing off in the middle of sentences. One by one the uncles came to find out where everybody was, and they had to be told too. Richard arrived with a girlfriend who was asked politely to leave, as there had been an unfortunate occurrence.

Aunt Lucy, who had double-dated with Sam and Caroline when they were young, became a little upset and kept hanging onto her husband's arm until Laura May suggested that she fetch her afghan squares to get her mind off things. Then down came the grandfather, sober and dignified, checking his flip-top watch. "Well?" they asked. "How'd she take it?"

"Took it fine."

"What'd she say?"

"Didn't say anything."

"Shall we go up now?"

"Do what you like," he said, and then he went off to his own house, taking Esther with him to fix his supper.

The others tiptoed up the stairs. Caroline was sitting in her bed against stacks of pillows. When they came in she leaned over to lower the volume slightly on the television set. "Caroline, we're so sorry," they said, and Caroline said, "Why, thank you. It's so nice of you to take an interest."

"If there's anything we could be doing now-"

"I can't think of a thing! But I do appreciate your asking."

"Would you like to go over to the funeral home? Of course it's not as if you had still been together or anything, I'm not quite sure what is customary in this case but if you feel you-"

"Why, later, perhaps. Not just now."

"It's probably not customary anyway."

"No."

"Well, if you want us, then-"

"Oh, certainly! I'll let you know first thing."