7

THE VERY EARLY BEGINNINGS of a fine sunset colored the sky. Katy was leaning against the railing of the deck. John stood beside her, feeling the stiff breeze on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” the child asked.

“Solitude,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“That’s being alone. It’s kind of nice.”

“Do you want me to go inside?”

He smiled and rubbed her head. “No. You see, grandchildren are like gulls.” He pointed to a couple of the birds winging against the sky. “A poet once said that ‘hawks and gulls are never breakers of solitude.’”

“So, I’m like a seagull.”

“In the good ways only.”

The glass door slid open behind them and Elgin stepped out. “So, what are you troublemakers up to?” he asked.

“We’re not troublemakers, are we, granddaughter?”

“Not us.”

“We’re trouble-finders,” said John.

Katy laughed.

“Your father used to be a trouble-finder,” John said and watched the child’s ear grow anxious. “Oh, he was always into something.”

“I was a model child,” Elgin said.

“Whatever that means.” John looked at Katy. “Once your dad came into the kitchen and he sounded funny.”

“Sounded funny?” asked Katy.

John pinched his nostrils shut and said, “He sounded like this.” With his nose still closed, “He asked your grandmother for a cookie.”

Katy was laughing.

“He said, ‘May I have a cookie?’” He let go of his nose and allowed the child to catch her breath.

Elgin looked away shyly, laughing also.

“Well, your grandmother just looked at him. ‘Say something else,’ she said. And he said”—John pinched his nose again—“‘What do you want me to say?’ So she called me in and told him to speak. I told her he sounded like he had something stuck up his nose.”

“What was wrong?” Katy asked.

“Well, Katy,” John said, “he did have something stuck up there.”

“What?”

“Your father has never been able to explain this, but there were seven pussy willows in there.” He began to laugh himself as the child fell out. “He’d pushed seven pussy willows up his nose. Three on one side, four on the other.”

“Really, Daddy?”

Elgin picked her up. “Yeah, a brief lapse in judgment.”

John enjoyed the child’s laughter and he loved the sight of his son holding her. It was good to be with them, like a beginning, and he felt positive about his retirement and amused by the fact that he didn’t know where it would take him.

“So, what aren’t we having for dinner?” John asked.

“Well,” said Elgin, “we’re not having prime rib. We’re also not having pork chops.”

“My favorites.”

Greg Yount appeared on the steps leading up from the beach. He was carrying a dirty-white, football-shaped buoy. He pointed to Elgin, then tossed the object to him. Elgin juggled the buoy a little before gaining control.

“Bobbled it,” Yount said playfully. “Hearing footsteps?”

“How’s it going?” asked Elgin.

“It’s going.” Yount reached the deck. “Hello, all.”

John nodded a greeting.

Yount touched Katy high on her head and slid his hand back against her hair. She increased the speed of the stroke by ducking slightly.

John took the buoy and turned it over in his hands. He gave it to Katy and said, “It’s an artifact from a strange culture.”

Lisa came to the door. “Oh, hi, Greg. Sneaked in, huh? Okay, you guys, time to eat.”

Elgin, Katy, and Yount stepped inside. John stayed outside for a quick smoke. He lit up and looked at how dusk was making so much indistinct. He took a long drag and let the smoke out slowly. Elgin opened the door.

“Dinner, Dad.”

After the meal, John excused himself and found his way down to the studio. With the lights off, he sat staring out at the dark beach. He could just make out two figures below, trotting, playing, two lovers probably. He apologized to his wife’s memory and to his age and good sense for the attraction he had felt, was still feeling, toward young Ruth.

He switched on a light and began to scratch at a pad with some charcoal. He stopped, hearing footsteps down from the main house.

“Dad?” It was Elgin. He came into the studio. “What are you up to?”

“I’m plotting a painting.”

“Interesting way to put it.”

“And fairly precise. Company gone?”

“No. Greg’s talking to Lisa. Katy’s in bed. I thought I’d drop down and chat with you. You’re spending a lot of time with Oliver.”

“Not so much,” John said. “Besides, you’re busy working on your papers. And Oliver’s more my age.”

“Okay.”

“How’s the work coming?”

“Slowly. I’m glad you and Oliver are getting close. I really like him.”

“So do I. Lorraine’s a hot ticket, too.”

“Hot ticket,” Elgin repeated and smiled.

“What?”

“I haven’t heard that expression in some time.” Elgin sat on a high stool. “How would you like to do a little fishing?”

“Sounds good.”

“All the tackle’s going to rot away if we don’t use it.”

“Say when.” John put his pad down and pulled out a cigarette. “I was just thinking about your mother.”

“You miss her a lot.”

“Yeah, I suppose it shows. I miss you, too.” After a silence, “It just does my heart wonders to see you and Katy together.”

“Good.”

“You see the paper today? The Braves are actually a game ahead of the Dodgers.”

“Still following Atlanta.”

“Like the fool I am. They’ll find some way to lose again. That’s why I hang in there with them, they’re dependable.”

Elgin laughed and stretched.

“Faith is faith.” John stubbed his butt out in the ashtray. He watched Elgin work a kink out of his back. “It’s all that sitting at the typewriter. You should break more often.”

“You’re right.”

John caught his reflection in the window. “I’m not so bad looking for a man my age.”

“What do you mean, ‘your age’? You look great.”

“I owe it all to repetitive meals and celibacy.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Elgin said.

“I guess I am.”