“You’ll have to learn to walk further’n a couple of miles in the army,” Nick said after a moment, giving him a sidelong glance.

“You’re right, I’m soft,” Joel said, his head bent. “Fact is, I’m scared of the whole thing.”

Nick gave him a hard look. He’d be shorn of more than his long hair, this city boy with his gentle ways and loving heart. Nick spat. It was the only way he could express his feelings.

Joel wanted to ask whether Nick had been scared. He was longing for some support from this man who had been through it all—the worst, judging by what he had gathered from Ellen. But that was years ago, and that war had made some sense.

Joel kicked a stone with all his force.

So they communicated, these two. Sometimes. At other times Joel talked and Nick listened. But today they were both on edge. Any change disturbed Nick, and Joel’s leaving was a worry. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was always there, like the war itself, like a curse on the spring world.

“Amazing,” Joel said, “how the leaves have burst out. When did they do it? It just happened.”

“Always thought I might be there when the beeches unfurl—but I never have been. Always takes me by surprise, like now. That’s how it is.”

“It’s so groovy here,” Joel breathed.

“Later on that bank where the arbutus is will be a mass of flowers—checkerberry, a little purple flower; and, just above, lady slippers. Gets the sun, and shelter from wind. Just about ideal.”

Joel tried to imagine that sodden bank of dirty old leaves and beer bottles as a mass of flowers. He would not be here to see it, that was sure.

“I wish I could stay!”

“It’ll keep,” Nick said with his secret smile.

But just then they heard the horrible roar of the road grader in the distance.