The Second Coming

beside him. Some guide. What guide would retrieve empty shotgun shells? The Negro woman wiped the blood from his face with the clean damp rag. “You ain’t hurt bad. You just lay there until the high sheriff comes.” The room smelled of kerosene and flour paste. Fresh newspapers covered the walls. She leaned over him. The movement of the rag against his cheek and lip was quick and firm but did not hurt. “Your daddy be all right. Ain’t nothing wrong the good Lord cain’t fix,” the woman said. He turned away impatiently. “Where’s the shotgun?” The Greener lay on the other side of him. The guide had found it and brought it back. He broke the breech. There was a single shell in the right barrel.
    Yet only now, thirty years later, did he do the arithmetic. One shell for the quail, two for me, and one for you.
    Well well, he thought, shaking his head and feeling in his pockets for the Mercedes keys. He must have been smiling because Kitty gave him a jostle. “What’s the matter with you, you nut?”
    To his surprise—yes! now he could be surprised!—a strange gaiety took hold of him. Something rose in his throat. What? Laughter. He laughed out loud.
    â€œWhat are you laughing at, idiot?”
    â€œEverything. Nothing. I’m sorry. What were you saying about ah—”
    â€œAllison.”
    â€œAllison?”
    â€œMy daughter, dummy. Allie.”
    Allie. Yes. That was her name. That was Allie sitting on the stoop of the greenhouse reading the fat pulpy Captain Blood. Allie.
    â€œI want you to meet her, talk to her, listen to her. I want her to get to know you. She can’t talk to people but somehow I know that she would talk to you. I can’t tell you how many times the thought has come to me that if only you had been there all along Allison would have been all right. And here’s the strangest thing of all. Sometimes I have the strongest feeling that you could be or ought to be her father—ha! fat chance, yet there is a slight chance, remember?”
    â€œRemember what?” Had he forgotten something or had Kitty rewritten the entire book of her life? His eyes went unfocused on the white cloud.
    â€œNo, really, Will. There is something about her, about us, about Allison. We were together once in another life.”
    â€œWhat?” He gave a violent start.
    â€œI said—What are you smiling about, you nut?”
    â€œWas I smiling?”
    â€œLike a chess cat.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œLike somebody had let you in on a big secret.”
    â€œA secret. Yes.”
    He looked at Kitty. In the corner of his eye he could see Leslie talking to the Cupps. She was nodding and frowning. They were arguing, he knew, about the after-rehearsal party. It was the custom for the groom’s family to give the party. The Cupps proposed to rent the Buccaneer Tavern at the Holiday Inn. Leslie looked sullen.
    Kitty’s hand, he noticed, was on his arm. He gave a start. He had not been listening.
    â€œDon’t forget,” whispered Kitty in his ear but not quite managing to whisper.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThree o’clock.”
    â€œOkay,” he said absently.
    â€œIsn’t it a shame that we waste so much time figuring out what we want,” said Kitty. “To think of the years—”
    â€œRight.” Marion had wanted to serve God, eat, and to do good. Jimmy Rogers and the dentist wanted money. Kitty wanted what? him? his money? out from the dentist? He wanted what? Kitty’s ass? Death? Both?
    Kitty’s face had gone solemn. Her eyes were shining.
    â€œYou will help me with Allison?”
    â€œSure,” he said absently.
    â€œThe child hasn’t learned that she has to get in touch with her feelings before she can get well. When things don’t go just right, she thinks she has to crawl into a hole. Or hit the road, change, move, go.”
    â€œYes,” he muttered. “Sometimes you have to go. Get out. I’ve done that.”
    â€œYou? You’ve never copped out. You were a good husband. Marion told me.”
    â€œActually I wasn’t. Did she tell you what I did last year?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOne Sunday after church Marion sent me to town for some booze. We were entertaining Bertie and some of his Palm Beach pals. It was not that I couldn’t stand Bertie and his pals, though in fact I couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know exactly