Chapter 28
I watched from the porch.
Curtis hugged Oscar.
Oscar stood stiff for one second.
Then hugged him back.
I cried quietly.
Not because I wanted Curtis home.
Because my son did.
In a different way.
And perhaps this time, Curtis had finally learned the difference.
PART 5: WHAT WE CHOOSE TO KEEP
Curtis returned with eighty-three dollars and a scar above his left eyebrow.
He handed me twenty-five.
"For Oscar."
I looked at the money.
"You don't have to give it to me."
"I know."
"Keep some."
"I did."
I accepted it.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
That was all.
No speeches.
No claim.
No accusation.
He had changed in small ways.
Real change is usually small at first.
He asked before entering the cabin.
He asked before taking Oscar fishing.
He asked whether he could repair the west fence.
He did not call me Rosie.
The first time he saw Adrien at the house, he went pale.
Adrien was repairing the porch step.
Oscar was handing him nails.
Curtis stopped at the gate.
For a moment, the old anger flashed.
Then he looked at me.
"Is this a bad time?"
That question told me more than an apology could have.
"No."
He entered.
Adrien stood.
The two men looked at each other.
Curtis spoke first.
"Brandt."
"Dunore."
Oscar came running.
"Papa, Mr. Brandt showed me how to set a nail without splitting the board."
Curtis looked at Adrien.
"Good skill."
Adrien nodded.
"Your boy learns quickly."
Curtis swallowed.
"Yeah."
He looked proud.
Not threatened.
Or perhaps threatened and choosing not to obey it.
That mattered too.
We ate supper together that evening.
All four of us.
It was awkward.
Horribly awkward.
Oscar loved every minute.
He talked enough to prevent silence from becoming dangerous.
Halfway through the meal, Curtis looked at Adrien.
"You still feeding those men boiled beans?"
Adrien looked at me.
"Not since May."
Curtis nodded.
"Rosalie could make shoe leather taste decent."
"Careful," I said.
"That was a compliment."
"I know."
Adrien looked amused.
After supper, Oscar dragged Curtis to the barn.
I remained on the porch with Adrien.
He watched them go.
"You all right?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"
"I am."
He nodded.
We had learned not to ask the same question three times when one answer was enough.
A few minutes later, Curtis came back alone.
"Oscar's brushing Clover."
I stood.
Curtis put his hands into his pockets.