From the Corner of His Eye

sudden plunge in the humidity, and an unseasonable warmth confirmed the coming catastrophe.
        Earthquake weather. Southern Californians had many definitions of that term, but Edom knew he was right this time. Thunder would roll again soon, but it would arise from underfoot.
        Driving defensively-keenly alert for toppling telephone poles, collapsing bridges, and not least of all the abrupt appearance of car-swallowing fissures in the pavement-Edom arrived at the first 'address on Agnes's list.
        The modest clapboard house had received no maintenance in a long time. Silvered by years of insistent sun, bare wood showed through peeling paint, like dark bones. At the end of a gravel driveway, a battered Chevy pickup stood on bald tires under a sagging carport.
        Here on the eastern outskirts of Bright Beach, on the side of the hills that offered no view of the sea, the tireless desert encroached when residents were not diligent. Sage and wild sorrel and all manner of scrub bristled where backyards ended.
        The recent storm had blown tumbleweeds out of the barrens. They were snared in domestic shrubs, piled against one wall of the house.
        Green during this rainy season, the lawn, lacking a sprinkler system, would be crisp and brown April through November. Even in this lush phase, it was as much weeds and creeping sandbur as grass.
        Carrying one of the six blueberry pies, Edom walked through the unmown lawn and up the swaybacked steps onto the front porch.
        This was not a house he would choose to occupy when the quake of the century rocked the coast and leveled mighty cities. Agnes's instructions, unfortunately, were that Edom must not merely drop the gifts and run but must visit for a short while and be as neighborly as it was within his nature to be.
        Jolene Klefton answered his knock: dowdy, in her early fifties, wear ing a shapeless housedress. Flyaway brown hair as lusterless as Mojave dust. Her face was enlivened by a wealth of freckles, however, and her voice was both musical and warm.
        "Edom, you look as handsome as that singer on the Lawrence Welk Show, you really do! Come in, come in!"
        As Jolene stepped aside to let him enter, Edom said, "Agnes was in a baking frenzy again. We'll be eating blueberry pie till we're blue. She said maybe you'd relieve us of one."
        "Thank you, Edom. Where is herself this morning?
        Though she tried to hide it, Jolene was disappointed-anybody would have been-that Edom rather than Agnes was at her door. He took no offense.
        Bill swung into a chair and hooked the canes on the back of it. He held out his right hand to Edom.
        The hand was gnarled, the knuckles swollen and misshapen. Edom pressed it lightly, afraid of causing pain even with a gentle touch.
        "Tell us all about the baby," Bill encouraged. "Where did they get the name-Bartholomew?"
        "I'm not really sure." Edom accepted a plate with a slice of cake from Jolene. "Far as I know, it wasn't on their list of favorites."
        He didn't have much to say about the baby, only what Agnes had told him. He'd already related most of those details to Jolene.
        Nevertheless, he went through it all again. He embellished a little, in fact, stalling for time, dreading a question that would force him to share with them the bad news.
        And here it came, from Bill: "Is Joey just bursting with pride?"
        Edom's mouth was full, so he was spared the expectation of an immediate answer. He chewed until it seemed that his slice of cake must be as tough as gristle, and when he realized Jolene was staring curiously, he nodded as though answering Bill's question.
        He paid for this deception, the nod, when he tried to swallow the cake and couldn't get it down. Afraid of choking, he grabbed his coffee and dislodged the stubborn wad with hot black brew.
        He couldn't talk about Joey. Breaking the news would be like murder.
        Until Edom actually told someone about the accident, Joey wasn't really dead. Words made it real. Until Edom spoke the words, Joey was still alive somehow, at least for Jolene and Bill.
        This was a crazy thought. Irrational. Nevertheless, the news about Joey stuck in his throat more stubbornly than the wad of cake.
        He spoke instead about a subject with which he was comfortable: doomsday. "Does this seem like earthquake weather to