Back in his ap he looks around, sighs. There at the desk, all those feeble half-poems lying there, broken-backed and abandoned.… He compares his work habits to Hana’s and he is ashamed of his laziness, his lack of discipline, his amateurishness. Waiting for inspiration—such nonsense. It really is stupid. He doesn’t even like to think about his poetry anymore. He’s an activist in the resistance, it’s time for praxis now rather than words, and he only writes when he has the time, the inclination. It’s different for him now.

But he doesn’t really believe that. He knows it’s laziness. And Hana—how is he ever going to show her any of his work? It just isn’t good enough; he doesn’t want her put off by his lack of talent. He’s ashamed of it. He identifies the feeling and that makes him feel even worse. Isn’t this his work, his real work?

Chapter 48

48

The pace never slackens for Lucy McPherson; on the contrary, it seems there’s a little more to do every day. One morning she wakes up alone. Dennis is off in Washington and Lucy’s been up later than usual the night before watching the video, and now she’s slept right through her alarm. Late from the word go. She hustles out without breakfast, down to the church, gets the office opened and starts the day’s opening round of calls. The organizational routine ticks off fairly well. The fund-raising is more problematic. Then it’s down to Leisure World for a too-brief visit with Tom. Tom looks worse than usual, complains of coming down with a cold. He listens to Lucy’s associational rattle of news with his eyes, nodding occasionally.

“How’s Jim?” he says.

“Okay, I guess. I haven’t seen him much in the last month. He and Dennis…” She sighs. “Hasn’t he been down to see you?”

“Not for a while.”

“I’ll tell him to come.”

Tom smiles, eyes closed. He looks so old today, Lucy thinks. “Don’t pester the boy, Lucy. I think he’s having a hard time.”

“Well, there’s no reason for it. And no reason he can’t come down here once in a while.”

Tom shakes his head, smiles again. “I do enjoy it.”

Then it’s back on the freeway, to an early lunch with her study group. And back to the office, back to the fund-raising. Lillian comes in at two and they work together at it. Lucy was flagging, but now she picks up; it’s more fun with Lillian there, someone to talk to.

“Well, he did it again,” Lillian says after looking around conspiratorially.

“Reverend Strong?”

“Yep. Right at the end of class.” Lillian is in the church’s little confirmation class, which the reverend teaches on Thursday evenings.

“Better the end than the beginning.”