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"You don't know everythin' that's happened to him," Lorna said philosophically; she didn't know Homer Wells, but she had sympathy for sexual entanglements.
Her present sexual entanglement grew impatient at the bar, where he'd been waiting for her; he was a bum named Bob, and he came over to Melony's booth where the two women were holding hands.
"I guess what's the matter with Homer is that he's a man," Melony observed. "I only ever met one who didn't let his dong run his life"--she meant Dr. Larch--"and he was an ether addict."
"Are you with me, or have you gone back to her?" Bob asked Lorna, but he stared at Melony.
"We was just talkin', she was just bein' an old friend," Melony said.
"I thought you was on vacation," Bob said to Melony. "Why don'tcha go somewhere where there's cannibals?"
"Go beat off in a bucket," Melony told him. "Go try to fill a pail, go drip in a teaspoon," she told him, and Bob twisted her arm too sharply--he broke it. Then Bob broke her nose against the Formica tabletop before some of the shipyard workers pulled him off her.
Lorna took her friend to the hospital, and when they'd put the cast on her arm and had set her nose--they set it almost straight--Lorna took Melony back to the women-only boardinghouse, where they both agreed they belonged: together. Lorna moved her things back in while Melony was convalescing. The swelling in her face went down after a few days, and her eyes turned from black to a purplish-green to yellow in about a week.
"The thing is," Melony said, with her sore face against Lorna's tummy, with Lorna's hand stroking her hair, "when he was a boy, he had that kind of bravery that's really special--no one could make him just go along with what was goin' on. And now look at him: bangin' a cripple's wife, lyin' to his own son."
"It's disgusting," Lorna agreed. "Why not forget it?" When Melony didn't answer her, Lorna asked, "How come you're not gonna press charges against Bob?"
"Suppose it works?" Melony asked.
"Pardon me?" Lorna said.
"Suppose they really put Bob in jail, or send him off somewheres?" Melony asked. "Then when I'm all better, I won't be able to find him."
"Oh," Lorna said.
Homer Wells did not recognize the voice that spoke to him from the headlights' glare.
"What you got in the bag, Homer?" asked Mr. Rose. It had been a long drive from the Carolinas, and Mr. Rose's old car creaked and popped with heat and with apparent pain. "It's nice of you workin' all night to make my house nice for me, Homer," he said. When he stepped in front of his headlights, his black face was still hard to see, but Homer recognized the way he moved--so slowly, but with a felt potential for moving so fast.
"Mister Rose!" Homer said.
"Mistuh Wells," said Mr. Rose, smiling. They shook hands, while Homer's heart calmed down. Candy was still hiding in the cider house, and Mr. Rose sensed that Homer wasn't alone. He was peering through the lit kitchen, looking into the shadowy bunkroom, when Candy walked, guiltily, into the light.
"Missus Worthington!" said Mr. Rose.
"Mister Rose," Candy said, smiling, shaking his hand. "We're just in time," she said to Homer, poking him. "We just this minute got all the bed linen ready," she told Mr. Rose, but Mr. Rose observed that there was no car or truck--that they had walked to the cider house. Had they carried all the blankets and sheets?
"Just this minute, we got it all folded up, I mean," Candy said.
Homer Wells thought that Mr. Rose might have seen the light in the apple-mart office when he drove by. "We were working late in the office," Homer said, "and we remembered the linen was down here--all in a heap."
Mr. Rose nodded and smiled. Then the baby cried. Candy jumped.
"I wrote to Wally 'bout bringin' the daughter," Mr. Rose explained, as a young woman, about Angel's age, walked into the light with a baby in her arms.
"I haven't seen you since you were a little girl," Homer Wells told the young woman, who looked at him blankly; it must have been an exhausting trip with a small child.
"My daughter," Mr. Rose said in introduction. "And her daughter," he added. "Missus Worthington," said Mr. Rose, introducing her, "and Homer Wells."
"Candy," Candy said, shaking the young woman's hand.
"Homer," Homer said. He couldn't remember the daughter's name, and so he asked her. She looked a little startled, and looked at her father--as if for clarification, or advice.
"Rose," Mr. Rose said.
Everyone laughed--the daughter, too. The baby stopped crying and looked with wonder at the laughter. "No, I mean your first name!" said Homer Wells.
