Susan put down her cup of coffee. She looked at Neil and she could see that he wasn’t pulling her leg. He did, sometimes, with fond but heavy-handed humor which he’d inherited from his Polish mother. Good old middle-European practical jokes. But today, he was edgy and disturbed as if he’d had a premonition of unsettled days ahead.

Susan said, “You think it’s a ghost, or something?”

Neil looked serious for a moment, and then gave a sheepish grin, and shrugged. “Ghost? I don’t know. I don’t believe in ghosts. I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts that wander around in the night.”

Toby piped up, “Is there a ghost, Daddy? A real ghost?”

Neil said, “No, Toby. There isn’t any such thing. They come out of storybooks, and that’s all.”

“I heard some noises in the night,” Toby told him. “Was that a ghost?”

“No, son. It was just the wind.”

“But what you said about Allen?”

Neil lowered his head. Susan took Toby’s hand and said softly, “Daddy was just saying that you must have had a very special kind of dream, that’s all. It’s nothing to get frightened about. Now, are you going to finish that pancake, because it’s time for school.”

*

Neil drove Toby in his Chevy pickup as far as Bodega Bay, and dropped him off at the schoolhouse. The bell was ringing plaintively, and most of the kids were already in the building. Toby climbed down to the road, but instead of running straight into school, he stood beside the truck for a moment, looking up at his father. His blond hair was ruffled by the Pacific wind.

He said, “Daddy?”

Neil looked at him. “What’s the matter?”

Toby said, “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything.”

Neil laughed. “Upset me? You haven’t upset me.”

“I thought you were. Mommy said I mustn’t talk about Jim.”

Neil didn’t answer. It was still difficult for him to think about his brother. He no longer got those terrible, clear pictures in his mind. He’d managed, with time, to blur them beyond recognition. But there was still that sensation of breathless pain, like jumping into the ocean on a December day. There was still that helplessness, still that desperation.

Neil said, “You’d better get into school. The teacher’s going to be worrying where you are.”

Toby hesitated. Neil continued, “Go along, now,” and Toby knew that his daddy meant it. He swung his books and his lunch pail over his shoulder and walked slowly across the gray, dusty yard. Neil watched him go into the battered pale-blue door, and then the door swung shut. He sighed.