Chapter 22

The rest of the week went by normally. I took on a small theft case, and recovered $20 in a couple of days – and sent a bill for more than that to a lady who insisted that it was worth it just to keep someone from profiting from his crime. I joked with Marla when she came in on Wednesday to do whatever she did – I hired her to do it, so that I didn't have to even know what it was. I went to an elders' meeting – my first – on Thursday evening, where we discussed the roles the various elders played in the body, just to sort of bring me up to speed; they'd let me find my own role within the body of elders.

Of course I loved Cecelia in all the various ways that are part of marriage, and I played with Darlia and helped her with homework, and a couple of evenings we went for a walk around the neighborhood. I made one trip to the library – which meant shouldering my backpack loaded with books I'd read, walking a mile, turning them in, checking out a new load, and walking a mile back. At that I'm not sure it's a full mile to the library; Cecelia might not have had that convenience in mind when she bought the house, but it works well for me.

On Friday morning I was drinking a cup of hot tea and eating one of Cecelia's homemade bagels smothered in cream cheese when the phone rang. Cecelia was in the bathroom, and Darlia was getting ready for school, so I got off the stool and went around the counter and grabbed the kitchen phone. The caller ID showed Al and Alan's number.

"Yeah," I said, not being a friend of the telephone.

"Cowboy, it's me. I want to come to your office this morning."

"Sure, but why?"

"It's official. I'll tell you then, if you don't mind."

I scratched my cheek. "Sure, Al, but you sound odd and this isn't your usual style."

"I'm not in a usual situation. Just tell me if I can come in."

I nodded, though of course nods don't carry over the phone. "Okay, Al. I'll be there about 8. You can come in whenever you want after that. I don't have any appointments."

"You do now," she said, and for the first time sounded like herself. "I'll be there at 9."

"Okay, I'll see you then." I hung up and looked at the phone for a minute, then hit the talk button again, and dialed the office. I got Marla's answering machine. "Hey, if you come in today, or before I do, keep 9 o'clock open. I got an appointment for then." I hung up again, and stuck the phone on the charger, and went back to my side of the counter.

Cecelia came out just then. "Who was it, Darvin?"

"Al," I said around a mouthful of bagel. "She wants to see me officially."

Cecelia raised an eyebrow – she can do 'em one at a time, like Spock – but didn't say anything. Just then Darlia came down the hall, ready to go, so Cecelia kissed me on the top of my head and went. I finished my bagel, and slathered a new one with cream cheese, and thought, and didn't have any ideas. But I'm used to not having any ideas – and it doesn't bother me the way it did Trampas.

I shrugged, finished my bagel, put the implements in the sink and the cream cheese in the fridge, tied up the bag of bagels and left it on the counter, and went to get ready for work. That didn't take long – the first shirt in the closet, a pair of socks from the drawer, get it all on and tucked in, put on my boots and hat, and I was ready. It was 7:30, time to go, so I locked the door behind me and went.

Marla wasn't there when I got to the office, so I went on past her desk and into the inner office, and sat down at my desk. I checked my business e-mail, which didn't take long, and then my personal e-mail, which I hadn't looked at while I was at home. That took longer, and when I was done I got a Coke out of the refrigerator and stood looking out the window. The sun was at just the right angle to catch the tram cables, and they gleamed like a thin line of silver against the beige of the Sandia Mountains. The leaves of the trees down in the city were almost all turned by now, and many had fallen, blowing into heaps wherever there was a dead spot in the air's movement. I saw an SUV pull into the parking lot, one I recognized, and when it parked and Al got out it wasn't a surprise to me. I checked my watch – it was just a few minutes shy of 9.

I waited till I heard the outer door close, and then I went to the connecting door and opened it. "Mornin', Al."

"Hello, Cowboy." She looked like she'd been up all night, and her voice sounded tired. At least the strangeness I'd heard over the phone was out of it.

"Siddown," I told her. "You want a Coke?"

"No, thank you."

I sat in my high-backed leather chair. "So what can I do for you?"

"You know how to contact my dad, right?"

"Yeah."

"Call him. I want to meet hm."

I came forward in my chair. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Cowboy – I want to meet him."

"Yeah, I heard you, I just can't believe that you mean what I heard."

"Believe it."

I leaned back. "Why, Al? What has he ever done to deserve any consideration from you?"

"Nothing. He's done nothing to earn any consideration. He's earned my contempt and hatred. But I want to meet him. You ask me why? It's because I'm a Christian."