But Monday night at Beatrice’s, he found out from Sidney that Allie had gone home sick in the afternoon. Leo called her house from the UFO Show and she told him she’d rather see him some other time. “Some other time.” What the heck kind of words were those to be using with him, Leo, who she saw practically every day? And last night, Tuesday, when Jim lent him the car again, she didn’t even want to go anywhere. She said she was tired and couldn’t they just sit on the porch awhile and talk? And that was fine except Allie didn’t do any talking. She just sat on the steps with her elbows on her knees and her cheeks in her hands, looking at the ground a few feet in front of her while Leo tried bouncing around from one subject to another. He talked about Katie Faye’s writings. He didn’t know it until he said it, but he felt special—and his cheeks got hot when he said that word about himself in front of Allie—but he did, he felt special when he read his mother’s words about him. Allie actually looked at him for that part; the light from the living room window fell on the side of her face, her eyes were unblinking, her lips in a soft slight pout. She looked full of caring, but sadness too. Which is why Leo kept talking. Sad about what? Him?

So he turned his talk to the job and Tom quitting, and Chick-who wasn’t home—working like a demon, but kind of distracted too. And that’s when Allie looked down at the ground and seemed to go off someplace else without walking anywhere. Finally Leo shut up and took out his new D harp. He played the first few notes of “The Love Abode,” but he didn’t feel the number inside him at all. Besides, the D was too high and whiny for the lyrics. He would have to write a song to match that key. He played “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” then put the harmonica in his back jeans pocket. When he said he should get going, Allie stood up right away, kissed him on the mouth with her lips pursed together, and went inside without a word.

“Let’s go, Leo.” Tom held his hands out for the next rafter. Leo gave it to him too quick.

“Easy.” Tom pulled the two-by-twelve to him until he held it at its middle, then he turned at the waist and pushed the top end out to Chick, who caught it though Leo couldn’t tell for sure because of the sun. He heard Chick drive a nail, then his voice, “I was on one of my first jobs, flat-roofing over in Lawrence. We were gooping up a fresh layer on top of this mill, five, six stories up.” Chick drove a second nail, and Leo heard him reach into his pouch for another. “This old guy slipped and went right over the edge.”