Nobody's Fool

there had been. “You want to know what Grandpa used to do?” Sully said.
    He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Grandpa Sully had done to combat fear, because he sensed that after his grandfather explained what had worked for him, he’d want Will to try it out, and Will already knew he didn’t want to. He doubted sincerely that Grandpa Sully had ever been truly afraid of anything. He could no more imagine his grandfather afraid than he could imagine his brother Wacker merciful. Wacker was a boy without pity. Add pity and he’d no longer be Wacker. He’d be somebody else entirely who looked liked Wacker. They’d have to rename him. Grandpa Sully? Who wasn’t even afraid of a policeman with a gun?
    â€œI used to make a deal with myself,” Grandpa Sully explained. “I’d tell myself I’d be brave for exactly a minute.”
    Will frowned, studied his grandfather.
    â€œYou could stand being brave for a minute, couldn’t you? You were brave for more than a minute back at the betting place, and a good thing happened. You won money.”
    â€œWhat happened after the minute?”
    â€œThen I’d let myself be scared again. But at least I could say I’d been brave for a minute. The next time I’d try to be brave for two minutes. That way I’d be getting braver and braver all the time.”
    Will continued to study his grandfather, who appeared to be telling the truth. “What were you scared of?”
    His grandfather shrugged. “I don’t remember. You won’t either when you’re my age.”
    Will looked out the window at his fear. He didn’t believe he’d ever forget what he was afraid of. He didn’t believe his grandfather had forgotten. Which meant he hadn’t
been
afraid.
    â€œWait here a minute,” Grandpa Sully said, getting out of the car andlimping around to the open rear end of the El Camino. Throwing open the lid to the big toolbox he kept there, Sully rummaged around in it, making a racket. Eventually he must have found whatever he was looking for, because he let the heavy lid of the toolbox fall shut and slid back into the front seat next to Will. “Here,” he said, tossing something heavy and metallic into Will’s lap.
    Will caught the thing between his knees, then picked it up and examined it, confused until he identified the object as a stopwatch.
    â€œYou can time yourself,” his grandfather explained, showing Will how it worked. “That way you’ll know exactly how long you were brave.”
    Will studied the watch dubiously for a minute, then the house more dubiously still, finally his grandfather. Then he took a deep breath. “Okay.”
    â€œGood boy.”
    They got out of the El Camino and made their way up the rippled walkway, Will watching the second hand make its slow sweep, as if to get straight in his own mind just how long the minute he’d agreed to would be in real time.
    Somewhere close by a dog was barking. It sounded to Sully like the dog was right out back of the house, though that was unlikely.
    Sully came to a halt where Rub was seated, still sulking, and looked up at the house. There were no sounds of boards being ripped asunder, or any kind of work being accomplished, for that matter. “Where’s Peter?” it occurred to him to wonder.
    Wherever the dog was, he barked louder and seemingly nearer now, a bark that had an angry, strangling quality to it.
    â€œThat’s what I come out to tell you,” Rub said angrily, “but all you wanted to do was pretend I wasn’t even there. So now I’m not telling nothing.” He looked away again, whether out of anger or because he had tears in his eyes Sully couldn’t tell.
    Will looked so worried by Rub’s refusal that Sully gave him a quick wink and a grin. “Rub?” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhere’s Peter?”
    â€œOver to the other house,” Rub said, still pouting but apparently satisfied that he’d held out as long as he could under such fierce interrogation.
    â€œWhat other house, Rub? There are about five hundred other houses right here in Bath. More if we include the whole state.”
    â€œThe other house we’re working on,” Rub said, angrily again.
    â€œCarl’s camp?” Sully said. Had Peter taken a load of hardwood out to the lake?
    â€œNo, that one,” Rub said, pointing up the street at