Brett sat on the sofa, pretending to read a book.
'Gee, Charity, he ain't. He's got his bowling league t'night. They're all over to the Pondicherry Lanes in Bridgton. Somethin wrong?'
Charity had carefully and consciously decided what she was going to say. The situation was a bit delicate. Like almost every other married woman in Castle Rock (and that was not to necessarily let out the single ones), Bessie loved to talk, and if she found out that Joe Camber had gone shooting off somewhere without his wife's knowledge as soon as Charity and Brett had left to visit her sister in Connecticut... why, that would be something to talk about on the party line, wouldn't it?
'No, except that Brett and I got a little worried about the dog.'
'Your Saint Bernard?'
'Ayuh, Cujo. Brett and I are down here visiting my sister while Joe's in Portsmouth on business. 'This was a barefaced be, but a safe one; Joe did occasionally go to Portsmouth to buy parts (there was no sales tax) and to the car auctions. 'I just wanted to make sure he got someone to feed the dog. You know how men are.'
'Well, Joe was over here yesterday or the day before, I think,'
Bessie said doubtfully. Actually, it had been the previous Thursday. Bessie Thornton was not a terribly bright woman (her great-aunt, the late Evvie Chalmers, had been fond of screaming to anyone who would listen that Bessie 'wouldn't never pass none of those IQ tests, but she's goodhearted'), her life on Alva's chicken farm was a hard one, and she lived most fully during her 'stories'-
As the World Turns, The Doctors, and All My Children (she had tried The Young and the Restless but considered it 'too racy by half'). She tended to be fuzzy on those parts of the real world that did not bear on feeding and watering the chickens, adjusting their
piped-in music, candling and sorting eggs, washing floors and clothes, doing dishes, selling eggs, tending the garden. And in the winter, of course, she could have told a questioner the exact date of the next meeting of the Castle Rock SnoDevils, the snowmobile club she and Alva belonged to.
Joe had come over on that day with a tractor tire he had repaired for Alva. Joe had done the job free of charge since the Cambers got all their eggs from the Thorntons at half price. Alva also harrowed Joe's small patch of garden each April, and so Joe was glad to patch the tire. It was the way country people got along.
Charity knew perfectly well that Joe had gone over to the Thorntons' with the repaired tire the previous Thursday. She also knew that Bessie was apt to get her days mixed up. All of which left her in a pretty dilemma. She could ask Bessie if Joe had had a tractor tire with him when he came up 'yesterday or the day before,'
and if Bessie said why yes, now that you mention it, he did, that would mean that Joe hadn't been up to see Alva since last Thursday, which would mean that Joe hadn't asked Alva to feed Cujo, which would also mean that Alva wouldn't have any information about Cujo's health and well-being.
Or she could just leave well enough alone and ease Brett's mind.
They could enjoy the rest of their visit without thoughts of home intruding constantly. And ... well, she was a little jealous of Cujo right about now. Tell the truth and shame the devil. Cujo was distracting Brett's attention from what could be the most important trip he ever took. She wanted the boy to see a whole new life, a whole new set of possibilities, so that when the time came, a few years from now, for him to decide which doors he wanted to step through and which ones he would allow to swing closed, he could make those decisions with a bit of perspective. Perhaps she had been wrong to believe she could steer him, but let him at least have enough experience to make up his mind for himself.
Was it fair to let his worries about the damned dog stand in the way of that?
,Charity? You there? I said I thought
'Ayuh, I heard you, Bessie. He probably did ask Alva to feed him, then.'
'Well, I'll ask him when he gets home, Charity. And I'll let you know, too.'
'You do that. Thanks ever so much, Bessie.'
'Don't even mention it.'
'Fine. Good-bye.' And Charity hung up, realizing that Bessie had forgotten to ask for Jim and Holly's phone number. Which was fine. She turned toward Brett, composing her face. She would say nothing that was a lie. She would lie to her son.
'Bessie said your dad was over to see Alva Sunday night,' Charity said. 'Must have asked him to take care of Cujo then.'
'Oh.' Brett was looking at her in a speculative way that made her a little uneasy. 'But you didn't talk to Alva himself.'
'No, he was out bowling. But Bessie said she'd let us know if -'
She doesn't have our number down here.' Was Brett's tone now faintly accusatory? Or was that her own conscience talking?
'Well, I'll call her back in the morning, then,' Charity said, hoping to close the conversation and applying some salve to her conscience at the same time.
'Daddy took a tractor tire over last week,' Brett said thoughtfully.
'Maybe Mrs. Thornton got mixed up on which day Daddy was there.'
'I think Bessie Thornton can keep her days straighter in her head than that,' Charity said, not thinking so at all. 'Besides, she didn't mention anything to me about a tractor tire.'
'Yeah, but you didn't ask her.'
'Go ahead and call her back, then!' Charity flashed at him. A sudden helpless fury swept her, the same ugly feeling that had come when Brett had offered his wickedly exact observation about Holly and her deck of credit cards. When he had done that his father's intonation, even his father's pattern of speech, had crept into his voice, and it had seemed to her, then and now, that the only thing this trip was doing was to show her once and for all who Brett really belonged to -lock, stock, and barrel.
'Mom '
'No, go ahead, call her back, the number's right here on the scratchpad. just tell the operator to charge it to our phone so it won't go on Holly's bill. Ask Bessie all your questions. I only did the best I could.'
There, she thought with sad and bitter amusement. just five minutes ago I wasn't going to lie to him.
That afternoon her anger had sparked anger in him. Tonight he only said quietly, 'Naw, that's okay.'
'If you want, we'll call somebody else and have them go up and check,' Charity said. She was already sorry for her outburst.
'Who would we call?' Brett asked.
'Well, what about one of the Milliken brothers?'
Brett only looked at her.
