For the first time he had genuinely lost his temper with Vera.
'What in Christ's name did you think you were doing?' he roared, after dragging the last of the incredible story out of her. They were in the living room. He had just finished calling Goodwill to tell them to forget the van. Outside, rain fell in monotonous gray sheets.
'Don't blaspheme the name of the Savior, Herbert.
'Shut up! Shut up! I'm tired of listening to you rave about that crap!'
She drew in a startled gasp.
He limped over to her, his cane thumping the floor in counterpoint. She flinched back a little in her chair and then looked up at him with that sweet martyr's expression that made him want, God forgive him, to bust her one across the head with his own damn walking stick.
'You're not so far gone that you don't know what you're doing,' he said. 'You don't have that excuse. You snuck around behind my back, Vera.You...
'I did not! That's a lie! I did no such...
'You did!' he bellowed. 'Well, you listen to me, Vera. This is where I'm drawing the line. You pray all you want. Praying's free. Write all the letters you want, a stamp still only costs thirteen cents. If you want to take a bath in all the cheap, shitty lies those Jesusiumpers tell, if you want to go on with the delusions and the make-believe, you go on. But I'm not a part of it. Remember that. Do you understand me?'
'Do you understand me?'
'You think I'm crazy!' she shouted at him, and her face crumpled and squeezed together in a terrible way. She burst into the braying, ugly tears of utter defeat and disillusion.
'No,' he said more quietly. 'Not yet. But maybe it's time for a little plain talk, Vera, and the truth is, I think you will be if you don't pull out of this and start facing reality.'
'You'll see,' she said through her team. 'You'll see. God knows the truth but waits.'
'Just as long as you understand that he's not going to have our furniture while he's waiting,' Herb said grimly. 'As long as we see eye to eye on that.'
'It's Last Times!' she told him. 'The hour of the Apocalypse is at hand.'
'Yeah? That and fifteen cents will buy you a cup of coffee, Vera.'
Outside the rain fell in steady sheets. That was the year Herb turned fifty-two, Vera fifty one, and Sarah Hazlett twenty-seven.
Johnny had been in his coma for four years.
9.
The baby came on Halloween night. Sarah's labor lasted nine hours. She was given mild whiffs of gas when she needed them, and at some point in her extremity it occurred to her that she was in the same hospital as Johnny, and she called his name over and over again. Afterward she barely remembered this, and certainly never told Walt. She thought she might have dreamed it.
The baby was a boy. They named him Dennis Edward Hazlett. He and his mother went home three days later, and Sarah was teaching again after the Thanksgiving holiday. Walt had landed what looked like a fine job with a Bangor firm of lawyers, and if all went well they planned for Sarah to quit teaching in June of 1975. She wasn't all that sure she wanted to. She had grown to like it.
10.
On the first day of 1975, two small boys, Charlie Norton and Norm Lawson, both of Otisfield, Maine, were in the Nortons' back yard, having a snowball fight. Charlie was eight, Norm was nine. The day was overcast and drippy.
Sensing that the end of the snowball fight was nearing - it was almost time for lunch - Norm charged Charlie, throwing a barrage of snowballs. Ducking and laughing, Charlie was at first forced back, and then turned tail and ran, jumping the low stone wall that divided the Norton back yard from the woods. He ran down the path that led toward Strimmer's Brook. As he went, Norm caught him a damn good one on the back of the hood.
Then Charlie disappeared from sight.
Norm jumped the wall and stood there for a moment, looking into the snowy woods and listening to the drip of melt-water from the birches, pines, and spruces.
'Come on back, chicken!' Norm called, and made a series of high gobbling sounds.
Charlie didn't rise to the bait. There was no sign of him now, but the path descended steeply as it went down toward the brook. Norm gobbled again and shifted irresolutely from one foot to the other. These were Charlie's woods, not his. Charlie's territory. Norm loved a good snowball fight when he was winning, but he didn't really want to go down there if Charlie was lying in ambush for him with half a dozen good hard slushballs all ready to go.
Nonetheless he had taken half a dozen steps down the path when a high, breathless scream rose from below.