“Yeah. Pretty messed up.” James nodded slightly, suddenly feeling a little awkward. He hadn’t expected to dive right in—why, he didn’t know; Travis never minced words or beat around the bush, or any of those other clichés that people fell into in order to avoid the tough subjects.

“Well, you’re lookin’ good. I got all your letters.” He motioned with his head as if the envelopes were stashed in the corner of the room. “I save ’em. My mom has them at the house in a box.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” James scrutinized Travis for a moment trying to spot any concealed rage or ill intent. James shook his head. Travis was still just Travis. James relaxed a little and rested his forearms across the metal table. “Are you OK?”

Travis’s smile faded as he lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug. “I guess.” For a moment, a load as heavy as all the troubles in Kipling seemed to weigh on that slight body. But as quickly as James noticed it, it was gone.

Travis’s trademark smile beamed across the table, and his eyes lit with sudden excitement. “Suppose you want to know what happened.”

James lifted his palms and shook his head. “No. It’s O—”

“I don’t mind.” Travis shook his head as the words rushed out, his gaze focused but still glowing with innocence. “I don’t remember a whole bunch, only doin’ it.”

The words stole James’s breath. Travis was innocent. How could he remember doing it if he didn’t do it at all? And yet, his words were so blunt. Unmistakable. Travis had always been that straightforward, that hadn’t changed.

Confusion and fear brewed an odd concoction in James’s gut. He shifted in the chair, becoming acutely aware of the hard molded plastic. He had to rein his emotions. He was a trained counselor. He knew how to handle unexpected and emotional situations, with poise. He forced a reassuring smile and prayed to his absent God that the curve of his lips looked genuine and not as plastic as the chairs that flanked the cold metal table.

Travis smiled back, apparently oblivious to James’s slip of composure.

“Used a cigarette to get it goin’. Then they came, and I told them what I done; and then they took me away. But they been pretty good to me. Considering.”

James blinked. Once. Twice. Was he missing something? A secret code? A hidden meaning in Travis’s words that in reality meant, “I have no idea how the fire got going” or “I’ve been framed, Jimmy. Help me out of this mess.”

“So what about you?I hear you got some news of your own. My mom said you come back ’cause you quit preaching. She said you run out of ‘Jesus juice.’”

James chuckled at that. He shouldn’t be so surprised that even in here, Travis knew what was going on in town. James nodded slightly. “Something like that.”

“Well then, I guess we both got our problems.”