“Just call me after you guys get settled somewhere. I’ll come to you.”

“I don’t know what to say. Just . . . thank you.”

When we leave the chapel, Caitlin walks past Livy without a word. She hugs my mother by the ER doors, kisses Annie, then slips through the doors and disappears.

Livy keeps pace with Dad and me as we walk down the hall and join my mother and Annie.

“Where do you think we should go, Tom?” Mom asks.

“The Prentiss Motel is right up on the highway. Let’s stay there tonight. We’ll worry about the long term tomorrow.”

As Dad opens the ER doors, Mom follows him through with Annie on her hip, leaving Livy and me alone on this side. The awkwardness between us is palpable. Two hours ago we were in each other’s arms. Now . . .

“What can I do?” she asks. “I’ll help with Annie, go out for food. Whatever you need.”

“I think it better just be family tonight,” I say gently. “Thanks for offering, though. Thanks for today too.”

Her eyes cloud with frustration and confusion. “Penn, for God’s sake . . . what’s happening here?”

“Maybe you should ask your father.”

CHAPTER 27

When the Examiner hit the driveways at four this morning, it polarized the town. Caitlin’s words entered the public consciousness like electrodes dipped into water, ionizing opinion to positive or negative with no neutral between, the opinions predictable in most cases by the simple indicator of skin color. The process took about three hours: from the time the insomniacs, farmers, and shift workers walked outside to read the front page by street lamp until the last Washington Street matrons toddled downstairs to read what the maid had laid out beside their morning coffee. By seven a.m. telephones were ringing all over town, and by eight every conversation from the sewer ditches and oil fields to the paper mill and the hospitals was centered on two men: Leo Marston and Penn Cage.

My only contributions to Caitlin’s story were the actual accusations against Marston, slander per se if I ever heard it. Of course, my slanderous charges became libel per se—meaning that the libeled party would not have to prove damages—the moment Caitlin printed and distributed them. My phrases, preserved for the ages, ran as follows: