Spencerville

looked like an unhappy, lovesick puppy.”
    She smiled again. “You look tired. Drive all night?”
    He nodded.
    “I know the look. Larry comes in from the road, looks like hell, not hungry for food, but hungry for love.” Her face flushed, and she added, “You guys.”
    Keith smiled in return. Larry owned some sort of trucking business according to one of Annie’s letters of some years back, and Terry kept the books. He imagined that they did well, the house was nice, the pickup truck was new. They had three children in or graduated from college, he remembered. Keith had seen Larry a few times when he and Annie were home from college, and Keith recalled that Larry was a big, quiet sort of guy. Larry was either working this morning or playing weekend sheriff, or was lying low somewhere, as men did when affairs of the heart were being discussed.
    Terry said, “She waited until one, then all of a sudden she said, ‘I’m leaving,’ and she wrote you a note.” Terry took an envelope out of her jeans pocket and put it on the table.
    Keith looked at it and saw his name in Annie’s familiar handwriting. He sipped his coffee, which he needed.
    Terry said, “I tried to keep her here, but she said it was okay, she’d see you another time.” Terry added, “She’s always so bubbly, you know, and you can’t tell when she’s hurting. I don’t mean this morning, but with that bastard she’s married to. Oh, God, I want so much for her to be happy. Really happy again.”
    “Me, too.” Keith said, “So how are you? You look good.”
    She smiled. “Thank you. You look terrific, Keith. I recognized you as soon as you got out of your car.”
    “It’s been a lot of years, hasn’t it?”
    “Oh, yes. They were good times back then.”
    “They were, weren’t they?”
    She nodded, then said, “Larry had to go in to work. He hung around awhile to see you. Said to say hello.”
    “I’ll see him next time.”
    “Hope so. So you’ve done okay for yourself. I always knew you would.”
    “Thanks. This is a nice house.”
    “Oh, these old places are a pain, but Larry likes to fix things. You’re back on the farm?”
    “Yup. Lot of work. How are your parents?”
    “They’re fine. Getting on, but healthy, thank the Lord. Yours?”
    “Enjoying Florida. They can’t believe they have a son who’s retired.”
    She smiled. “You look too young to retire.”
    “That seems to be the consensus.”
    “So you were in Washington?”
    “I had to finish up some business. Thought I’d be back in time.”
    They talked awhile, the letter lying on the table between them. Keith thought it was important to reestablish a relationship with Annie’s sister, and in fact he liked Terry, and he wanted her to like him, as a person, not as her sister’s lover or white knight. She turned out to be a lot more lucid than she’d sounded at seven that morning, and he had the sense she had a lot she wanted to tell him, but he kept the conversation general for a while, but then said to her, “I only want the best for your sister. You know we’ve never stopped loving each other.”
    Terry nodded, and a tear ran down her cheek.
    Keith took the letter and said, “Mind if I read it here? ”
    “No, go ahead…” She stood and said, “I have to go throw some stuff in the dryer.” She went down into the basement.
    Keith opened the envelope and read: “Dear Keith, No, I’m not angry, yes, I’m disappointed. I know that whatever took you back to Washington couldn’t be helped, but it gave me a few hours this morning to think. Oh, no, Prentis! You’re not thinking again!”
    Keith smiled, remembering that he used to say that to her in college whenever she preceded a sentence with, “I’ve been thinking—”
    He knew this wasn’t going to be an amusing letter, however, and he read on. “What I was thinking is that this is a big step for you. For me, it means getting out of a situation that I can’t stand any longer. But for you, it means taking on a big responsibility—being responsible for me. Maybe you don’t need that burden. I know my husband has made life difficult for you, and I know that you can deal with it fine. But I’m starting to feel guilty about all of this. I mean, Keith, I don’t think you’d be here, or be in this situation, if it weren’t for me, and I appreciate that. But without me, you could do what you want, which, by now, after all that’s happened, is probably to go back to Washington, or to