But something began to gnaw at Ben when he reached the topic called “The Buffalo Jump,” which described how Native Americans had herded buffalo over the edge of cliffs in order to kill them. Ben thought of the broken rib cages that arced from the bottom of the pit he’d found in the north woods.
The next section had detailed diagrams on how to skin a small animal and properly prepare its meat. Many of the book’s pages were stained through much use, but one chapter, on fishing, was streaked with brown residue. There was a thumbprint twice the size of Ben’s on one corner of the page.
He shut the book, suddenly out of breath. He pulled Charlie’s jacket from its hook, and a small skull fixed Ben with its sharp-toothed grin.
Ben put the battered book back into the cubby. He stared at it a moment longer before returning to the walkway. On his way, he tried to think about what he’d need to do when he got home. He tried to think of the batches of cocktails he’d store in the freezer and how he would prepare the smoked-trout appetizers. He tried not to think of the deer’s head that had been displayed on their steps. He tried not to think about the carcasses he’d found in the north woods. He tried not to think about the fire that had burned down their shed or the skulls at the bottom of the pit, which looked just like the one Charlie had in his cubby.
He tried hardest not to think of the man in the smoke from Charlie’s drawing and how his hands were twice the size of Ben’s own.
37
When Ben and Charlie returned to the Crofts, Caroline was stuffing the game hens. Her apron was smeared with the juice from wild mushrooms, and her hair smelled like apricots. She hugged Charlie and made him grilled cheese sprinkled with the extra mushrooms. She even let him have one of the macaroons they’d picked up in Exton. She looked much better than she had when Ben had left her, but he could take little pleasure in it now.
“You don’t look so good, either,” Caroline told Ben. She was covering a tray of the stuffed birds with plastic wrap.
“No?” He felt a bit light-headed. Charlie had been his usual quiet self on the ride back, and Ben hadn’t felt like talking.
“You’re not catching what he has?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, because I need you tonight. Did Father Cal seem excited about dinner?”
“I guess.”
“Good. The flowers came, and I’m on schedule as far as the food goes. The beets should be done soon. I want to serve those at room temperature. I think the cake turned out well, too. I have it in the cellar, where it’s cool.”
“Great.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Are you just going to keep asking me?”
“Were you going to make some cocktails?”
“Yes, I can do that.” Ben tried to focus. “Manhattans? Good in cold weather.”
“What if you serve them and they don’t know how strong they are? Maybe some specialty drink that’s not too strong. Something they might get a kick out of. The bar’s full, right? We have Apple Pucker and liqueurs like that?”
“Sure, I can make appletinis. But if I knew the night’s theme was 1998, I would have also bought some Red Bull.”
“Fine, make your Manhattans. Just remember we’ll have a priest and a lawman in attendance. We should probably salt the gravel drive, too. And could you give Bub a bath? I figure we’ll put him to bed a little early, but people will want to say hello to him, and I want him to be as fresh as possible.”
“Sure.”
“Same with Charlie, don’t you think?” Caroline asked.
“You want me to give him a bath, too?”
“I mean we should parade him around a bit, then send him up to his room. I hate the way the ladies dote on him. And he’s sick, anyway. If he needs us he can call, but he can probably take care of himself up there until it’s bedtime, right?”
Ben turned to where Charlie sat at the table, methodically chewing his lunch.
“Yes, I’m certain he can take care of himself.”
—
Ben held Bub’s hand as the baby hoisted his leg from one step to the next. It was slow going; Bub’s knees only came up to the top of the step in front of him. It looked exhausting to Ben, but he liked the way the baby’s grip on his hand tightened each time he undertook a new step.
“You’re getting to be a strong little boy, aren’t you?” Ben asked him. Bub looked at him and turned his grin all the way up.
Bub loved his baths, and Ben spent more time than he needed to playing with the floating dinosaurs that Bub liked to dip in and out of the water. Ben lurched the brontosaurus around the tub so that its neck cut through the water as if it were the Loch Ness Monster.
It occurred to Ben that he’d never gone swimming with Bub. When Charlie was a baby, they’d rented a house in Montauk, right on the ocean. The Atlantic had stayed cold that season, but he’d taken Charlie in a few times. He liked how Charlie’s eyes changed to match the gray green of the ocean, and he liked the surprised look that flashed across his face whenever salt water splashed into his mouth. The cold of the water made Ben’s skin dance, and the feeling of Charlie’s small body clutched against his chest made his heart swell. He could have stayed there all afternoon, just the two of them, bobbing in the waves.
Ben wondered when he’d have the chance to swim with Bub.
“Maybe we can go on vacation someplace by the water,” he told Bub. He pulled the baby out of the tub and rubbed a towel over his shoulders. “You’d like the Gulf Coast. Great shells there. And lots of animals. Colorful birds and rays and fish.”
“Ish,” Bub said. He reached a hand to touch Ben’s face.
“But would we have to shut down the whole inn to take some time off?” He ran the towel over the baby’s head. The season had turned his hair darker. “And what time of year do we do it? The fall’s going to be the busiest season. But there’s skiing in the winter and lots of outdoors stuff in the spring and summer. It’s not like there’s a clear off-season, you know?”