Searching for Caleb

But now she had insulted him. He straightened up, which made him look smaller. He said, "Don't you think I can have a reasonable discussion with my own girl's parents?"

"Yes but-"

"You forget, I'm a minister. I've convinced families who swore they'd cut off their daughters without a penny. I've convinced fathers who claimed that-"

"But it wasn't you their daughters were marrying."

"Now don't worry. If worst comes to worst we'll just go away quietly and have the ceremony in my own church."

But neither of them wanted that. They wanted everything perfect. Arthur wanted her to be happy, and Meg would only be happy with a white dress that dipped to a point at the waist, Sarah Cantleigh's veil, and a bouquet of baby's breath. She wanted to walk down the aisle of the family's church in Baltimore where her mother had been married; she would like to be guarded by rows and rows of aunts and uncles and second cousins, grave Peck eyes approving her choice. Bridal showers, long-grained rice, Great-Grandma's sixpence in her shoe. Arthur waiting beside the minister, turning his pale, shiny face to watch her procession.

Whenever he looked at her, she felt queenly. All right, so he was not a handsome man, but would a handsome man treat her as adoringly as Arthur Milsom did? When they went to lectures she looked at the lecturer and Arthur looked at her. She felt the thin moon of his face turned upon her.

He assisted her in and out of cars, through doorways, up the shallowest steps, his hands just barely brushing her. (The aunts would love his manners.) He devoted his entire attention to her, so much so that sometimes, he said, he worried about his jealous God. Nobody had ever, in all her life, felt that way about her before.

A car drove up in front of the house, chugging and grinding familiarly.

"There's Mama now!" Meg said. "Look, she beat him home after all." She rose and went out to the porch. Justine was still seated behind the wheel, straight-backed and prim, unguarded by even the vestige of a door. The car looked like a cross-section of something. But, "Certainly makes it easier to get in and out!" she called to Meg, and she waved gaily and stepped onto the sidewalk. "Coming, Grandfather?"

"Mama, I want to talk to you," Meg said.

But then up spoke Dorcas Britt, the lady next door, calling over the hedge in a large, rich voice that seemed to mock Meg's. "Justine, honey!

I got to talk to you."

"A man came along doing eighty and flung Grandfather into the windshield," Justine said.

"Mama."

The house was swept suddenly with a variety of colors and shapes- the white, tottering grandfather, Justine flicking back her yellow hair, Dorcas all chartreuse and magenta on red patent-leather spike-heeled sandals. Arthur stood up with his fingers laced in front of him, as he did when greeting church members after the sermon. He wore a determined smile. Meg felt a twist; was she doomed to be embarrassed by everyone, all her life, even Arthur? "Mama, Grandfather, you remember Arthur," she said. "Mrs. Britt, this is Arthur, my-Arthur Milsom."

"My baby has been kidnapped," Dorcas told him.

Her baby was nine years old and she was kidnapped regularly, always by her father, who did not have visiting rights, but Arthur didn't know that and he grew white around the lips. "Oh, my heavens!" he cried.

"Arthur. It's all right," Meg told him.

"All right?" said Dorcas. "To you, maybe."

"Grandfather was zonked in the forehead," Justine said.

Which caused Arthur to spin next in the grandfather's direction, full of a new supply of horror and sympathy. He hadn't learned yet. Such an expenditure of emotion would drain you in no time, living here. "Arthur,"

Meg said.

"The man was going eighty, at least," said Justine. "How else could he have ripped a door clean off like that?"

"It was already hanging by one hinge, Mama."

" 'You were going eighty,' I told him, but guess what he said? It's against the law to open a car door on the street side. Did you know that?

How are we supposed to get into our cars?"

"Perhaps from the sidewalk side," Arthur said carefully.

Justine paused, in the middle of removing her hat, and looked over at him. "Oh. Arthur," she said. "Why, how are you?"

"I'm just fine, thank you, Mrs. Peck. How are you?"

"And Meg! Meggie, did you find my note? I forgot to tell you I was going off today. Did you have anything to eat when you came home from school?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She kissed Meg on the cheek-a breath of Luden's cough drops. Whenever she kissed people she gave them quick little pats on the shoulder. Meg drew away, trying to regather her dignity. "Mama, when you get a moment," she said.

"But I have a moment. All the time in the world. What can I do for you?"

"Don't you have to start supper?"