Mohawk

should write it down, just in case it was me.”
    “It sounds like you.”
    “I don’t know. I’m suspicious.”
    Now that he was awake, she could see he was in a good mood, so she sat down. “It’s nice to talk, just the two of us. Why don’t we, ever?”
    “It isn’t permitted.”
    Anne frowned. True, she often blamed her mother in much the same manner, but her father’s explicit criticism seemed unfair. He allowed himself to be badgered by his wife a good deal, but he always let her know when he’d had enough. And once the signal was given, she stopped. “It’s not fair to blame Mother. We could if we wanted to.”
    “I guess we stopped somewhere along the line and just never started again.”
    “Let’s. Now. If we didn’t need a reason to stop, we don’t need one to resume.”
    Her father looked dubious but did not object.
    “Can we turn our friend off,” she asked, getting up from the sofa and pushing the button. The reverend’s face grew terribly thin for an instant, then disappeared, leaving father and daughter so alone that both wished him back immediately. “We’re opening a new store,” she said, trying for a simple, conversational tone.
    Mather Grouse nodded, way ahead of her. “New York again?”
    “The suburbs. Connecticut, actually. They’re going to do a lot of hiring.”
    “You’d be better off.”
    “There’s a lot more money. They want me to open the store at least. Then I can stay on if I choose. I’m wasted here.”
    “I seem to recall telling you that when you were fourteen.”
    “I guess I still have reservations. Different ones. But I’m afraid not to go. They’ve been patient, but I know how the company works. In the long run they’d rather ax you than not be able to tell you what to do.”
    “Perhaps they have your best interests at heart.”
    Suddenly Anne felt like crying. As usual, her father had refused to meet her eye. She couldn’t recall the last time he really looked at her. For all she knew, he might still see a seventeen-year-old in his mind’s eye when he listened to the sound of her voice. How startled he would be if ever he decided to look. “I guess I hoped you’d try to talk me out of it.”
    “No,” he said, still staring nostalgically at the blank television screen. “I never thought your coming back was wise.”
    Anne struggled with the sudden tightness in her chest. “It was for you—”
    “No,” he interrupted. “I know your feelings for me, and I’m … grateful. But that’s not why you came back.”
    “Then why?” She waited until it was clear that her father had no intention of speaking to that particular issue. And suddenly the silence rendered the whole conversation insupportable. In strength of will she had always been her father’s equal, but they worked their wills in different ways, Anne through action, Mather Grouse through quiet patience. In the latter she was no match. He was far more comfortable with things unsaid than she could ever be.
    “Anyway, there’s this business with Randall. I think I’m beginning to lose him. We used to be so close, but I don’t know what he’s thinking any more. I know he hates school, and I doubt he’s learning much of anything. The Connecticut schools would almost have to be an improvement.”
    “I wouldn’t worry about him too much. Nothing can ruin a good boy except growing up, and he’s going to do that no matter where you live.”
    “I hate to take him away.”
    “I’ll miss him.”
    “And me?”
    Mather Grouse paused. “Yes, I will. But I’ll feel better about you in Connecticut. People sometimes get in the habit of being loyal to a mistake. They can devote their whole lives to it.”
    This time it was Anne who looked away, afraid that her father would choose this particular moment to meet her eye. They hadn’t spoken of Dan Wood since the night fifteen years ago when she told him that she had agreed to marry a man she neither loved nor respected and that she was in love with her cousin’s fiancée. “Then you know how much I still love him.”
    “Yes. I know you.”
    “Not even you could ever convince me that loving somebody is a mistake.”
    “It is though, just the same. Because as long as you continue, you’ll be waiting for your cousin to die.”
    The harshness of this didn’t surprise her; Mather Grouse had always been capable of cruelty. She shook her head. “It’s even worse. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not waiting for
him
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