“W … w … why … n … n … not.”
“Small sips,” Meredith told him, and patted him on the arm. She gave him the faintest of smiles; her face was heavy with fatigue. The woman probably hadn’t slept a solid night in months and was simply grateful for the help. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Peter began with the water, holding the straw to Vicky’s lips, which were flaked with dryness, then moved on to the broth. He could see the tremendous effort it required for her to swallow even the tiniest amount. Most of it dribbled from the corners of her mouth; he used the bib to wipe her chin.
“Sss … sss … fun … neee.”
“What’s that?”
“You … ffff … fff … eed … ing … me. Like … a … bay … beeee.”
He gave her more of the broth. “The least I could do. You spoonfed me more than once.”
Her neck made a sinewy pumping motion as she tried to swallow. It exhausted him, just watching it.
“How … ssss … the … cam … p … p … aign?”
“Not really gotten started yet. Been a bit tied up.”
“Yyyyy … you’re … f … full of … sh … sh … shit.”
She had him dead to rights, but of course she always did. He fed her another spoonful, without much luck. “Caleb and Pim left for the townships today.”
“You’re … j … j … ust … blue. It … will … lll … passss.”
“What? You don’t think I can farm?”
“I … I kn … know … you … P … eter. You’lllll … go … c … c … craze … ee.”
She said nothing else. Peter put the bowl aside; she’d consumed only a fraction. When he looked up again, Vicky’s eyes were closed. He doused the lamp and watched her. Only in sleep did the restless turmoil of her body cease. A few minutes passed; he heard a sound behind him and saw Meredith standing in the kitchen doorway.
“It happens like that,” the woman said quietly. “One minute she’s there, the next …” She left the thought unfinished.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Meredith placed one hand on his arm and met his eye. “She was so proud of you, Peter. It made her so happy, watching all you’ve done.”
“Will you call me if you need me? Anything at all.”
“I think this was a perfect visit, don’t you? Let’s let it be the last one.”
He returned to Vicky’s bedside and lifted one of her hands from the blanket. The woman didn’t stir. He held it for a minute, thinking about her, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, something he had never done before.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He followed Meredith to the porch. “She loved you, you know,” the woman said. “It wasn’t the kind of thing she said very often, not even to me. That’s just how she was. But she did.”
“I loved her, too.”
“She knows you did.” They embraced. “Goodbye, Peter.”
The street was silent, no lights burning. He touched a finger to his eye; it came away wet. Well, he was the president, he could cry if he wanted to. His son was gone; others would follow. He had entered the era of his life when things would drop away. Peter tipped his face to the sky. It was true, what they said about the stars. The more you looked, the more you saw. They were a comfort, their watchful presence a force of reassurance; yet this had not always been so. He stood and looked at them, remembering a time when the sight of so many stars had meant something else entirely.
25
They spent the night in Hunt, sleeping on the ground by the wagon, and arrived in Mystic Township on the second afternoon. The town was a threadbare outpost: a small main street with just a few houses, a general store, and a government building that acted as everything from the post office to the jail. They passed through and followed the river road west through a tunnel of thickening foliage. Pim had never been to the townships before; everything she saw seemed to fascinate her. Look at the trees, she signed to the baby. Look at the river. Look at the world.
The day had begun to fade when they reached the homestead. The house stood on a rise looking down toward the Guadalupe, with a paddock for the horses, fields of black soil between, and a privy in the rear. Caleb stepped down from the buckboard and reached up for Theo, who was sleeping in a basket.
“What do you think?”
Since Theo’s birth, Caleb had made it his habit to speak and sign simultaneously whenever the boy was present. With nobody else around, he would grow up thinking that talking and signing were really no different from each other.
You did all this?
“Well, I had help.”
Show me the rest.
He led her inside. There were two rooms on the main floor, with real glass windows and a kitchen with a stove and a pump, and a flight of stairs that led to a loft where the three of them would sleep. The floor, of sawn oak planks, felt solid underfoot.