From the Corner of His Eye

a harmony that was kitchen poetry. Paul had noticed that most women seemed to like or dislike one another within a minute of their first encounter, and when they found one another companionable, they were as open and easy on their first meeting as though they were friends of long duration. Within half an hour, these three sounded as if they were of one age, inseparable since childhood. He had not seen Grace or Celestina free of despair since the reverend's murder, but here they were able for the first time to veil their anguish in the bustle of baking and the pleasure of making a new friend.
        "Nice," Barty said, as though reading Paul's mind.
        "Yeah. Nice," he agreed.
        He closed his eyes to know the kitchen as Barty knew it. The fine aromas, the musical clink of spoons, the tinny rattle of pans, the liquid swish of a stirring whisk, the heat from the ovens, the women's voices: Gradually, denying himself sight, he was aware of his other senses sharpening.
        "Nice, too," Paul said, but opened his eyes.
        Angel returned to the table for apple juice and to announce, "They got a cookie-jar Jesus!"
        "Maria brought that from Mexico," Barty said. "She thought it was pretty funny. So do I. It's a hoot. Mom says it isn't really blasphemous, because it wasn't meant to be by the people who made it, and because Jesus would want you to have cookies, and, besides, it reminds us to be thankful for all the good things we get."
        "Your mother's wise," Paul said. "More than all the owls in the world," the boy agreed.
        "Why're you wearing cozies on your eyes?" Angel asked.
        Barty laughed. "They're not cozies."
        "Well, they aren't socks."
        "They're eyepatches," Barty explained. "I'm blind."
        Angel peered closely, suspiciously, at the patches. "Really?"
        "I've been blind fifteen days."
        "Why?"
        Barty shrugged. "Something new to do."
        These kids were the same age, yet listening to them was akin to hearing Angel do her charming shtick with an adult who had a lot of patience, a sense of humor, and an awareness of generational ironies.
        "What's that on the table?" Angel asked.
        Putting one hand on the object to which she referred, Barty said, "Mom and I were listening to a book when you got here. This is a talking book."
        "Books talk?" Angel asked with a note of wonder.
        "They do if you're blind as a stone, and if you know where to get them."
        "Do you think dogs talk?" she asked.
        "If they did, one of them would be president by now. Everyone likes dogs."
        "Horses talk."
        "Only on television."
        "I'm going to get a puppy that talks."
        "If anyone can, you will," Barty said.
        Agnes invited everyone to stay for dinner. The pies were no sooner finished than large cook pots, saucepans, colanders, and other heavy artillery were requisitioned from the Lampion culinary arsenal.
        "Maria is coming by with Francesca and Bonita," Agnes said. "We might as well put all the extensions in the table. Barty, call Uncle Jacob and Uncle Edom and invite them for dinner."
        Paul watched as Barty hopped down from his chair and crossed the busy kitchen in a straight line to the wall phone, without one hesitant move.
        Angel followed him and observed as he climbed a stepstool and unhooked the telephone handset. He dialed with little pause between digits, and spoke with each of his uncles.
        From the phone, Barty proceeded directly to the refrigerator. He opened the door, got a can of orange soda, and returned without hesitation to his chair at the table.
        Angel followed him at two steps, and when she stood beside his chair, watching him open the soft drink, Barty said, "Why were you following me?"
        "How'd you know I was?"
        "I know." To Paul, he said, "She did, didn't she?"
        "Everywhere you went," Paul confirmed.
        Angel said, "I wanted to see you fall down."
        "I don't fall. Well, not much."
        Maria Gonzalez arrived with her daughters, and while it was natural for Angel to be drawn to the company of older girls, she had no interest in anyone but Barty.
        "Why patches?"
        "Cause I don't have my new eyes yet."
        "Where do you get new eyes?"
        "The supermarket."
        "Don't you tease me," Angel said. "You're not one of them."
        "One of