She was high over him now, a figure backlighted by the lowering sun. “That happened to you? Some girl? Before Mother?”

Slow and thoughtful he said, “No.” Then a pace or two along he said, “It might’ve. But that age, all I had was a war to worry over. Then I met your mother.”

“Yes.” She laughed down at him. “The rest is history.”

“History to you.”

Fast back she said, “You bet. At least part.” And was quiet then a bit and finally spoke again. “Well you don’t have to worry about any of that with me. I plan to stay right here and die of old age.”

“Think so?”

“No man’ll be coming around chasing after the likes of me. I’m nobody’s fool.” Wiped her face with the back of her hand. “But I spect I’ll make a fine old maiden aunt to Abby’s babies. And little firecracker’s too, his time comes.”

The back of Norman’s head ached down into his shoulders from the sun and the lifting. He guessed she knew herself exactly and the ache in his head ran through him for her. Light and swift he said, “Ten dollars is what it’ll cost you, the day you come singing a different tune to me over some boy.”

She grinned down at him, her teeth a flash in the dark halo of hatted head. “Fine with me. Just don’t be trying to pay no taxes with it before it comes.”

Evening dusk of late August. Not the long soft dusk of summer but the short blue cool twilight of autumn. Where the fall began. Still the girls were out on the lawn playing croquet, the passion of Abigail learned the summer before and not abandoned the evening in June she came home and announced she was through with Daniel Martin, the only information she shared. As far as Norman knew, with any of them. It was possible Prudy knew more, either directly or through her divination but as could be expected she would share complaints with him but not intimacies. Nothing from Leah either, and here he knew it was because she lacked any more knowing than he held. He held anger toward the boy but useless without specifics, the same rage as when Abby came home tearstained from her first day of school. He sat now in the comb-back rocker by the window and watched them: Abby intent and serious, deadly with her mallet, Pru careless and idle between turns, watching the bats slipping from the barn eaves, her mallet held over her shoulder like an axe. Before him on the carpet his son belly-down up on his elbows over a magazine. Norman did not know the extent to which he read but knew he spent a great deal of time page by page. Beyond the boy Leah sat on the sofa, hands holding each other on her lap, her knees drawn together, back up, her face alert, curious, determined. Also, alarmingly, kind, as if holding great patience toward his final understanding. He was wasting his time, what that look told him.