The staked Goat

be crowded, unpleasant. We never rode them.”
    ”Funny,” said Martha. ”Al preferred trains.”
    ”Martha, has anyone—”
    ”Oh,” she interjected, standing, ”your coffee. It must still be in the kitchen. I’ll just—”
    ”No, Martha,” I said, trying to keep the protest out of my voice. ”I don’t take coffee.”
    ”Oh,” she said, still standing, ”how about tea then? Soda? We have plenty of everything, really.”
    Her repetition of hospitality sounded so brittle I thought she would break.
    ”No, really,” I said, motioning for her to sit down. ”Martha, we have to talk about things here. Have you—”
    ”Things here,” she said with a smile. ”I have a list already. I’ll just be a minute.”
    She bustled off into the kitchen.
    I looked at Carol. ”How long has she...”
    ”Since your phone call.”
    I rested my chin on my chest. Dale had already told me that. I must be more tired than I thought.
    ”One of us should stay with her,” I said.
    ”I went back home and got a bag. Kenny and I will sleep here tonight.”
    I stood up. Carol started to push my coat off her shoulders. ”Keep it,” I said. ”I’m just going across the street.”
    ”Macho man.” She frowned. ”It’s probably five below outside.”
    ”I’ll keep my hands in my pockets.”
    Martha came back into the room, list and pencil in hand. ”Oh, John, are you going already? Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Tea...”
    ”No, thank you. Martha, I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    ”Right,” she said, coming over and giving me the same aloha peck and hug. ”See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”
    Carol followed me to the door, insisting I take the coat. I saw slivers of china out of the corner of my eye before I registered the breaking sound and Martha’s voice.
    ”Damn you!” she yelled, ”damn you to hell.” She had followed through like a major league pitcher after smashing her cup against the wall. She was yelling at the stain running down the wall. ”How could you, Al, how could you? After all the scrimping and saving. All the... pain and sacrifice and... no vacations and no clothes and no... Oh God, oh my God, oh God, God.” She sank down to her knees, then sat back on her ankles rocking and clutching her arms around her. ”Oh God, the stain, the coffee.”
    Carol ran over to her and threw my coat around her. She kneeled down and hugged her, rocking with her.
    I quick stepped to the kitchen and wet a towel. I came back in and cleaned up the wall. I could hear kids crying upstairs. I spelled Carol while she went upstairs to quiet them.
    After Carol came back down, we moved Martha to the couch. We took turns holding and rocking with her through the night.
     

Nine
     
     
     
    I FELT A STIRRING AGAINST MY RIGHT SHOULDER . I opened my eyes.
    There was a lamp still on. A full head of blond hair was nestled into my shoulder. It looked as though it had been there awhile. Martha.
    Then I noticed the kids. They were squatting Indian-style on the floor, in front of us on the couch. They were both wearing pajamas, the ones on the younger boy a bit small for him.
    ”W-w-who are you?” said the older one. He sounded scared.
    I lifted my free left hand to my lips in a silent shush. The older boy noticed. My watch said 6:30 A.M.
    I raised my chin so I could turn my head to the right without nudging Martha. My neck was awfully stiff. Carol lay partially across Martha, sharing my coat with her. One arm disappeared behind Martha and probably belonged to the hand whose knuckles were pressed into my right side. Carol’s other arm was across Martha’s stomach. Martha’s forearms and hands lay limply along my thigh. We were like three puppies, huddled against the cold.
    Puppies? Cold?
    I exhaled and could see my breath. I looked down at the boys. The older one hadn’t been scared, he was shivering from the cold. So was the little one.
    I couldn’t see any way to help them without moving from under Martha. I started to slide out from under her. The little one said, ”M-M-Momma. Mom-maa!” Martha’s head flicked up instantly. She blinked and looked around wildly. ”It’s okay, Martha,” I said. ”We’re just—”
    She looked at me terrified. ”Who are... where... oh, oh, yes.” She blinked and leaned forward, rubbing her eyes.
    Carol’s arm fell behind her, and Carol slid down and toward me, wakening with a start.
    ”Mom?” said the older boy.
    I caught and steadied Carol. Martha spoke.