Oh, boy, Ridley said.
Well, he asked.
He sure did.
Harrison cocked his ear toward the radio.
Who’s this Carpenter fella? Ridley said.
Navy guy, Harrison said. Never even been in a fighter squadron. He’s only got two hundred hours; been flyin multi-engine propeller planes! Not that Bonney’s mentioned it, of course.
And these are supposed to be America’s finest pilots? Ridley said. Wasn’t Cooper in engineering?
Heh, yeah. He was in Wally’s room for the meeting that night. I think he sees it as a shortcut up the pyramid.
There ain’t no shortcuts, Ridley said. You either got it or you don’t.
Shepard’s done good work though, Harrison said. Nothing like the X-series, and he’s never been in combat, but he’s a good guy. I like him. Grissom? Never heard of him. Was at Wright-Patterson, I think, doing all-weather testing. Wally wouldn’t stop goin on about what this thing might do to a man’s career—but there he is—Jolly Wally—not feeling quite so jolly in front of all them reporters. They got one good pilot, I guess.
Deke?
Yeah.
Surprised he volunteered.
Me too. Lot of people round here liked what he’d been doing.
Harrison shrugged and turned the volume down.
How’s Gracie doing? Ridley said.
Struggling in this heat.
I’ll bet. When’s it comin again?
Early May.
You got the nursery all finished?
Just about. Air force should be payin me to fix up their property. There isn’t a whole heap of room, but how much space does a baby need?
You’re askin the wrong fella. Hal pleased?
All I could do to stop him movin in.
Ah, he just wants to look after his own little girl.
We don’t have the space. He’s just been by himself for too long.
When’d June die? Ridley said.
Twenty years last fall, Harrison said.
Hell of a thing, Ridley said.
Yeah, Harrison said. My old man died when I was five.
I didn’t know that, Ridley said.
He worked the railroads; West Virginia mainly—Deepwater, Indian Creek, Greenbrier and Eastern, Kanawha Central. Died of a heart attack, right there on the tracks. He was a big man; strong, shoulders that sloped off him like hills. Only really got one memory of him. I must have been three, maybe four. We were living on this small homestead in Wheeling, up in the Northern Panhandle. His old man had been a coal miner. Tough work. Had to lease his tools from the company, pay them rent, and his wages were only good in company-owned stores; some strange currency they paid. Anyway, I remember this one time a wolf or a hound or something was lyin badly hurt out back of our place. Must have escaped a trap in the woods somehow. His back leg was all mangled up and he’d lost a lot of blood. He was all done howling, poor thing. We spotted him just before sundown. Dad told me to stay inside. Ma must have known what was going on because she told me to go to my room and not come out til she said so. But I crept out of my window and onto the roof. Laid flat on my belly. The animal was right there below. It was a hot night. I saw Dad appear from one of our outbuildings carrying a shovel. He pushed it into the earth alongside the wolf and bent down. He stroked the animal’s head for a minute, whispering in his ear. Couldn’t hear what. Then he stood up and brought the blade of the shovel down hard on his neck.
Jesus, Ridley said.
I guess he must have buried it after, Harrison said. I don’t remember. He marked it with a stone; a big blue thing. It stayed there for a couple of years; vanished sometime after that.
You ever get back out that way? Ridley said.
Harrison shook his head. Ma was a strong woman. Raised me herself; just the two of us. Never too proud to ask for help if she needed it. That was a good quality. We had a friend, Annie, who lived close by. She was a remarkable woman. She helped Ma out a lot. You want another coffee?
Nah, I’d better be on my way.
Sure thing, Jack. I’ll see you.
Tell Gracie I said hi, Ridley said.
I will.
Ridley left. Harrison sat back in his chair and turned the volume up again. On the radio, a reporter said, could I ask for a show of hands of how many are confident that they will come back from outer space?
Jesus, Harrison thought, lighting another cigarette. What the hell kind of question was that? What a bunch of dopes. Harrison switched the radio off and went down to the hangar.
It was late, gone midnight, bone-cold. Grace pulled herself from the car, walked slow to the house, holding her back, fighting the wind.
Real howler, Harrison said as he got out. Wait up, would you?
If she said anything, he didn’t hear. He went to help.
Get off, I’m fine, she said, pushing him away.
You don’t look fine, he said.
Unlock the goddamn door, she said. I’m freezing.
Harrison did as she said and shut the door and the desert behind them. He switched on the light.
I’ll make you a hot milk, he said.
I don’t want a hot milk, she said. I just want to sit down; my back is killing me.