He softened now. “When you leaving?”

She checked the clock over the mantel. “Mr. Tivot should have been here awhile back.”

“Are they gonna fix him so he don’t try to kill me again?”

Annie didn’t say anything.

“We have oranges in the store. The boy he likes oranges.”

Frank clattered down the stairs.

“Eh, Lone Ranger!” her papa shouted. “Where you going?”

“Linus’s. Helping his dad spray his trees.”

“You helping his dad? Why, you his son? Something I don’t know with your mama?”

“He’s paying me.”

“Paying you to be his son? I should pay you, eh? Good deal. You gonna give me some of this money?”

Annie hated it when her papa said these stupid things and the way Frank would just stare at him with tired disgust, waiting for it to be over.

“Anyone else need a son? Son for sale, no good for nothing. I put an ad out, eh?”

Annie could see that Frank was about to retaliate. She leaped up from the ottoman.

“Frankie, I have to show you something.” Taking his hand, she led him out of the house. It was like pulling a powerful dog on a leash.

“Why can’t he damn well—just once—let me walk through the house?”

“Are you really spraying?”

“No. Me, Jude, and Linus are going to try out Linus’s new rifle down the quarry. Tell Mom I’ll clean up the stuff in the yard when I get back.”

Just then Clyde Tivot appeared in his Sunday suit. He was walking.

Coming to a halt in front of them, he said quietly, “I’m afraid my truck has…stopped working. We’ll have to go see Lew another day.” He placed his hand over his chin and half his mouth and looked like he wished he could cover up his whole face.

“Take my truck,” Frank said. “I can drive Groteweil’s Hudson. I’m fixing a dent for him.” He knew as well as Annie how difficult it was for Mr. Tivot to accept anything, so he threw her the key and hurried off behind the store. Staring into the ground, Mr. Tivot looked in real pain.

Annie put the truck key into his reluctant hand. She knew he hated to be in town where people might see him. “I’m going to get some things. If you start the truck, I’ll be out in a second.”

Mr. Tivot hadn’t brought anything and eyed Annie’s gifts with concern. Annie had long ago given up trying to get him to speak, and for most of the three-hour drive she looked out the window at the blue shards of sky reflected up from rain pools gathered in the fresh-turned furrows. Lilacs and peach trees were in bloom, and the wildflowers would soon line the roads. But she did steal glances at his profile. She had noticed some changes in him since what had happened with Roh: Every now and then his face would concentrate, as if he had forgotten something vital. As if you could forget your heart or your hands. And there was an added agony today because his desire to see his son had forced him to override the scrupulousness that prevented him from taking anything from anyone. He was in a borrowed truck and Annie had put money for gas, which she had taken from her savings, on the dash as soon as she got in. He fascinated her; she couldn’t understand how someone could survive without having anyone to talk to or touch. She had never seen him so much as jostle Lew’s hair and often wondered what his life with Bella must have been like.