“I won’t take that from you. I can’t,” she said. The line was quiet for a moment, then it clicked dead. There was no confusion with this goodbye. Leland put down the receiver. He was not going to let himself think about dressing and going outside to call her back. He was too tired. She really was the cause of this and she would have to wait. He started up the stairs again, then he looked up. Norma was standing at the balustrade, her hands in the pockets of her robe. She continued to stare at him.

“I was back and forth to Wendell’s all evening. I could have missed her call, the same way I just did catch yours. I should have told you that.”

“You should have told me that you were listening, too.”

“I know, but I had an interest. Would you have come back after that? If I hadn’t been here?”

“I would have tried. I didn’t stop thinking about it.”

“You lied to me about yourself.”

“No.”

“You couldn’t even say my name when I asked if you had the line.”

That was true.

“So that’s the way it is,” she said. “She’s the cop, not you. It’s too bad.”

His lip curled. “Sure. Whatever you want to believe.”

She turned to her room. “Good night, Joe.”

He did not answer. She had been facing the other way and the walls could have played tricks with her voice. He had no doubt about the way he would sound, with unhappiness compounding unhappiness. He waited until he heard her door close. More than she—she had turned away—he did not want to be seen.

Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

She prodded him awake. “Sit up. Come on. There’s a telegram for you.”

The room was bright. Raising himself to one elbow, he took the envelope and tore it open. His fingers were numb. EASTERN FLIGHT 341 DUE PORT SMITH 10:30. MEET ME ARRIVAL GATE. MIKE. Leland gave the telegram to Norma.

“This is a change, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He was going to send a letter.”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I don’t care. Wait.” He sat up, pulling the covers with him. He looked at her; he did not know what he wanted to say. She knew it. She went to the door and turned around.

“Get dressed and come downstairs.”

“Listen, kid—”

“Not now. Understand? Not now.”

He nodded and reached for his cigarettes. She saw him, then closed the door.

While he was shaving he examined the puffiness of his face. His body was going to feel heavy for most of the day. It had taken him hours to fall asleep. And the sleep had been shallow and restless. He had not heard her, though. Her room had been quiet all night.

Downstairs he stayed quiet and she did not break in on him until he had his coffee.