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I watched silently as Pa again got into his old
truck and sped off, kicking up dry dirt and scattering
dead leaves, creating a whirl of dust and litter. He was
gone, and he'd taken his dogs with him. Now we had
only cats who hunted just for themselves.
When I ran to tell Sarah that Pa had really gone
and this time he'd taken his dogs, she cried out and
sank slowly to the floor. I knelt beside her. "Ma, it's
what you wanted, isn't it? Ya drove him out. You said
you hated him . . . why are you crying when it's too
late?"
"SHUT UP!" she roared in Pa's own ugly way.
"Don't kerr! It's betta so, betta so!"
Better so? Then why did she cry even more? Whom did I have to talk to now but Tom? Not
Grandpa, whom I'd never loved as much as Granny,
mainly because he was so content in his locked-in
small world, and he didn't seem to need anyone but
his wife, and she was gone.
Still, I helped him to the table each morning
when Sarah stayed in bed, and each evening, and said
what I could to ease him along until he grew
accustomed to being without a wife. "Your Annie has
gone to heaven, Grandpa. She told me many a time to
look out for you after she was gone, and I will. And
think of this, Grandpa. Now she doesn't ache and pain
anymore, and in paradise she can eat anything she
wants, and not feel sick after every meal. I guess that's
her reward . . isn't it, Grandpa?"
Poor Grandpa . he couldn't speak. Tears
streaked from his pale, tired eyes. When he had eaten
