might drop by anytime to talk about either the eclipse or Vera's big doins, I said to hell with it n threw em down the well. Then I went back to the house. Worked my way back to the house, I should say, because there were pieces of my dress n slip hangin from a good many thorns, and I picked off as many as I could. Later on that day I went back and picked off the three or four I missed the first time. There were little bits of fluff from Joe's flannel shirt, too, but I left those. 'Let Garrett Thibodeau make anything of em he can,' I thought. 'Let anyone make anything of em they can. It's gonna look like he got drunk n fell down the well no matter what, and with the reputation Joe's got around here, whatever they decide on'll most likely go in my favor.'
Those little pieces of cloth didn't go in the swill with the broken glass and the Johnnie Walker cap, though; those I threw in the ocean later on that day. I was across the dooryard and gettin ready to climb the porch steps when a thought hit me. Joe had grabbed onto the piece of my slip that'd been trailln out behind me suppose he still had a piece of it? Suppose it was clutched in one of the hands that was layin curled up in his lap at the bottom of the well?
That stopped me cold . . . and cold's just what I mean. I stood there in the dooryard under that hot July sun, my back all prickles and feelin zero at the bone, as some poime I read in high school said. Then Vera spoke up inside my mind again. 'Since you can't do anything about it, Dolores,' she says,
'I'd advise you to let it go.' It seemed like pretty good advice, so I went on up the steps and back inside.
I spent most of the mornin walkin around the house n out on that porch, lookin for . . . well, I dunno. I dunno what I was lookin for, exactly. Maybe I was expectin that inside eye to happen on somethin else that needed to be done or taken care of, the way it had happened on that little pile of boards. If so, I didn't see anything.
Around eleven o'clock I took the next step, which was callin Gail Lavesque up at Pinewood. I ast her what she thought of the eclipse n all, then ast how things was goin over at Her Nibs'.
'Well,' she says, 'I can't complain since I haven't seen nobody but that older fella with the bald head and the toothbrush mustache - do you know the one I mean?'
I said I did.
'He come downstairs about nine-thirty, went out back in the garden, walkin slow and kinda holdin his head, but at least up, which is more than you c'n say for the rest of em. When Karen Jolander asked him if he'd like a glass of fresh-squeezed orange-juice, he ran over to the edge of the porch n puked in the petunias. You shoulda heard him, Dolores - Bleeeeee-ahhh!'
I laughed until I almost cried, and no laughter ever felt better to me.
'They must have had quite a party when they got back from the ferry,' Gail says. 'If I had a nickel for every cigarette butt I've dumped this mornin - just a nickel, mindja - I could buy a brand-new Chevrolet. But I'll have the place spick n spiffy by the time Missus Donovan drags her hangover down the front stairs, you can count on that.'
'I know you will,' I says, 'and if you need any help, you know who to call, don't you?'
Gail give a laugh at that. 'Never mind,' she says. 'You worked your fingers to the bone over the last week - and Missus Donovan knows it as well as I do. She don't want to see you before tomorrow mornin, and neither do I.'
'All right,' I says, and then I took a little pause. She'd be expectin me to say goodbye, and when I said somethin else instead, she'd pay particular mind to it .. . which was what I wanted. 'You haven't seen Joe over there, have you?' I ast her.
'Joe?' she says. 'Your Joe?'
'Ayuh.'
'No - I've never seen him up here. Why do you ask?'
'He didn't come home last night.'
'Oh, Dolores!' she says, soundin horrified n int'rested at the same