“Guess maybe he’s tired after hauling in all them fish,” another voice from the audience had suggested, and the people had laughed wearily, though all of them thought Littleberry’s behavior was strange. He had loved gloating as much as winning the money.

No one spoke of Noah. The fishing was over. There was no need to dwell on whether or not Noah could have taken the prize from Littleberry. Someone had said to Taylor—though he could not remember who it was—that he had seen Noah at the store, washing paintbrushes at the spigot. Had said the store looked finished, and Taylor had taken the news with a nod. He would find Noah on Sunday and pay him—if Noah was still around. Intuitively, he believed Noah had already left, forgetting the money.

After the supper and the cleanup, and while music from a band made up of fiddlers and guitar and banjo players rose up in the air on the school playground, Eleanor slipped away without making a show of it, telling Taylor she was tired, agreeing to see him on Sunday afternoon for the funeral services of Matthew Reynolds. He had tried to persuade her to stay, saying in a put-on voice of merriment, “They just started the music. You mean you’re going to pass up a chance to dance with me?” And she had answered, “I don’t even remember what dancing is like, it’s been so long since I’ve done it. I’d probably break your feet.” Taylor had laughed, had replied, “Be the other way around, I’d guess.”

She had with her a covered plate of fish and hush puppies and coleslaw, and she drove to the pull-off at the lake and parked her car under the low, covering limb of a hemlock, out of sight from the road. The night was dim, but she had a flashlight, making the walk to the shack an easy one.

She found Noah sitting on the porch.

“I know you must think I’ve got the worst manners in the world, showing up out of the blue like this, but I thought you might be hungry,” she said to him. “We had so many fish left, it’d be a shame just to throw them away.”

He thanked her, saying he had already eaten, though he had not, not more than a candy bar he had taken from the store, leaving his money for it on the counter.

“Well, you can always find room for some fish,” she replied lightly. “Do you want to eat it now, or later?”

“I guess later,” he said.

“I’ll put it on the table,” she told him and she went into the shack with the plate, then returned to the porch and sat on the cot. Noah sat in the rocker.

“It’s still hot outside,” she said.

“It is,” he replied.

“A lot of people were asking about you today,” she said.

He made a nod, letting it say whatever needed to be said.

“We had a good turnout,” she continued, her voice in singsong. “Biggest ever, the principal said. He’s even talking about buying some equipment for a softball team. I hope he does. We had a softball team at my school when I was girl. Everybody always went to the games. I wanted to play, but it was just for boys.”