Tommy looked mildly wounded. He seems alert. He is alert. She said he's very alert. He gets that from his father.
Tommy looked at her sideways at that with the expression of someone who wants to say something and has learned somewhat painfully when not to. He also sends his regards, Tommy said, retrieving a piece of paper from his jacket with the efficiency of someone who has remembered a task belatedly. Mr. Caldwell, he wants to know if there's anything you need from town. Frank's going in at the end of the week.
Clara looked at the piece of paper. It was blank. Tommy had brought it, expecting to write down whatever she said, which told her that the errand had been framed more carefully than it was being presented. Glass jars if they have them, she said. A dozen if the price is reasonable.
Dark thread. That's what I need. Not everything you want, Tommy said clearly having heard this exact formulation before. What I need, she confirmed. Not everything I want, he wrote it down and rode north.
And she stood at the window with young Henry against her shoulder and looked at the clearing. The garden was producing. She could see the onion greens from where she stood, vivid and definite, and the carrot tops coming in along the east edge. The preserving jars from Frank's town run would be full before September. She was managing.
The fact that managing felt like running uphill in mud was information she kept to herself. Amos came on a Thursday in the third week in the afternoon, and this time he knocked and waited. "Come in," she said. He came in and looked directly at the cradle before he could stop himself, which she noticed, but decided not to comment on. Young Henry was asleep, both fists tucked under his chin, breathing with the total commitment of a person who has not yet learned to do anything halfway.
He's bigger, Amos said. 3 weeks will do that. Amos looked around the room with the slightly careful attention of a man making sure everything is as it should be without wanting to appear to be making sure. The furniture had been rearranged slightly. The table closer to the window for light, the cradle where she could see it from the fire.
There were preserving jars on the shelf. Now it. It was the first time she had invited him to sit. He sat in the chair near the door and turned his hat in his hands. I wanted to ask you something.