The Dead Zone(77)

'You too.'

He hung up thoughtfully, feeling both excited and guilty - for no good reason at all. But your mind went where it wanted to, didn't it? And where his mind wanted to go now was to examine possibilities maybe best left unconsidered.

Well, she knows the thing she needs to know. She knows what time dad comes home - what else does she need to know?

And his mind answered itself: What you going to do if she shows up at noon?

Nothing, he answered, and didn't wholly believe it. Just thinking about Sarah, the set of her lips, the small, upward tilt of her green eyes - those were enough to make him feel weak and sappy and a little desperate.

Johnny went out to the kitchen and slowly began to put together this night's supper, not so important, just for two. Father and son batching it. It hadn't been all that bad. He was still healing. He and his father had talked about the four-and-a-half years he had missed, about his mother - working around that carefully but always seeming to come a little closer to the center, in a tightening spiral. Not needing to understand, maybe, but needing to come to terms. No, it hadn't been that bad. It was a way to finish putting things together. For both of them. But it would be over in January when he returned to Cleaves Mills to teach. He had gotten his half-year contract from Dave Pelsen the week before, had signed it and sent it back. What would his father do then? Go on, Johnny supposed. People had a way of doing that, just going on, pushing through with no particular drama, no big drumrolls. He would get down to visit Herb as often as he could, every weekend, if that felt like the right thing to do. So many things had gotten strange so fast that all he could do was feel his way slowly along, groping like a blind man in an unfamiliar room.

He put the roast in the oven, went into the living room, snapped on the TV, then snapped it off again. He sat down and thought about Sarah. The baby, he thought The baby will be our chaperon if she comes early. So that was all right, after all. All bases covered.

But his thoughts were still long and uneasily speculative.

2.

She came at quarter past twelve the next day, wheeling a snappy little red Pinto into the driveway and parking it, getting out, looking tall and beautiful, her dark blonde hair caught in the mild October wind.

'Hi, Johnny! ' she called, raising her hand.

'Sarah!' He came down to meet her; she lifted her face and he kissed her cheek lightly.

'Just let me get the emperor,' she said, opening the passenger door.

'Can I help?'

'Naw, we get along just fine together, don't we, Denny? Come on, kiddo.' Moving deftly, she unbuckled the straps holding a pudgy little baby in the car seat. She lifted him out. Denny stared around the yard with wild, solemn interest, and then his eyes fixed on Johnny and held there. He smiled.

'Vig!' Denny said, and waved both hands.

'I think he wants to go to you,' Sarah said. 'Very unusual. Denny has his father's Republican sensibilities -he's rather standoffish. Want to hold him?'

'Sure,' Johnny said, a little doubtfully.

Sarah grinned. 'He won't break and you won't drop him,' she said, and handed Denny over. 'If you did, he'd probably bounce right up like Silly Putty. Disgustingly fat baby.

'Vun bunk! ' Denny said, curling one arm nonchalantly around Johnny's neck and looking comfortably at his mother.

'It really is amazing,' Sarah said. 'He never takes to people like... Johnny? Johnny?'

When the baby put his arm around Johnny's neck, a confused rush of feelings had washed over him like mild warm water. There was nothing dark, nothing troubling. Everything was very simple. There was no concept of the future in the baby's thoughts. No feeling of trouble. No sense of past unhappiness. And on words, only strong images: warmth, dryness, the mother, the man that was himself.

'Johnny?' She was looking at him apprehensively.

'Hmmmm?'

'Is everything all right?'

She's asking me about Denny, he realized. Is everything all right with Denny? Do you see trouble? Problems?

'Everything's fine,' he said. 'We can go inside if you want, but I usually roost on the porch. It'll be time to crouch around the stove all day long soon enough.'

'I think the porch will be super. And Denny looks as if he'd like to try out the yard. Great yard, he says. Right, kiddo?' She ruffled his hair and Denny laughed.

'He'll be okay?'

'As long as he doesn't try to eat any of those wood-chips.'

'I've been splitting stove-lengths,' Johnny said, setting Denny down as carefully as a Ming vase. 'Good exercise.'

'How are you? Physically?'

'I think,' Johnny said, remembering the heave-ho he had given Richard Dees a few days ago, 'that I'm doing as well as could be expected.'

'That's good. You were kinda low the last time I saw you.

Johnny nodded. 'The operations.'

'Johnny?'

He glanced at her and again felt that odd mix of speculation, guilt, and something like anticipation in his viscera. Her eyes were on his face, frankly and openly. 'Yeah?'

'Do you remember... about the wedding ring?' He nodded.

'It was there. Where you said it would be. I threw it away.'

'Did you?' He was not completely surprised.

'I threw it away and never mentioned it to Walt.' She shook her head. 'And I don't know why. It's bothered me ever since.