Searching for Caleb

"See they got this lady down there claiming a Mr. Caleb Peck has been kidnapped."

Duncan looked at Justine.

"Seems like he was in a home of some sort. This lady, Mrs. Luray Pickett, went to visit him last Sunday and found he'd disappeared. Home hadn't noticed. Seems somebody at the office remembered a

Justine Peck come from Caro Mill to visit him, and he was never seen again."

"So?" said Duncan.

"Well, I believe that would be kidnapping, or stealing at least. See, the man was institutionalized. He didn't have no right to be leaving on his own free will. Or would it be aiding and abetting? Well, look. I don't care about it. Let an old fellow go where he wants, I always say. But Doug Tilghman said I had to just ask, because some lady somewhere is fit to be tied. Mrs. Luray Pickett. I said, 'Look, Doug, can't this wait till morning? I mean what will the Pecks think of us for this?' I said, and he said, 'Tell them I'm just as sorry as I can be but these policemen in Louisiana have this lady name of Mrs. Luray Pickett who is kicking up a storm, calling them and visiting, asking why they're not doing more. She says she put the man in a Home herself and saw to his every need, never let a month go by without . . . and here he has been removed and not so much as a by-your-leave. She says if anybody thought she wasn't taking proper care they could just come to her in person, there was no need to steal the man, and she will thank the police to get him replaced or she'll know the reason why. And also-' Well, and it's true there's not many Justine Pecks. I mean the name is odd. And especially from Caro Mill. Of course you do have that old man staying with you now . . ."

"Tucker," said Duncan, "don't you know that all our family is from Baltimore?"

"That's true, they are."

"And have you ever heard either one of us mention a relative in Louisiana?"

"Well, not directly," said Tucker.

"So," said Duncan.

"Well, I knew there was nothing to it," Tucker told him. "Sorry to have woken you folks up." And for the first time he raised his eyes to meet theirs. "I'll tell the wife I saw you," he said. "Night, now."

"Night," said Duncan.

He turned on the porch light and shut the door. Justine waited, but he didn't say a word. Maybe he was angry. She should have told him from the beginning. Only at the beginning he had been so odd, and after that it was never the proper moment. Now what? Would he make her send Caleb back again? Then it occurred to her that all this time Caleb must have been listening, bolt upright in bed, terrified they would give him away. "That poor old man!" she said, and slid past Duncan to open Caleb's door.

He was gone.

His bed was unmade, and his pajamas lay at the foot. His rubberized raincoat no longer hung from the closet door. Duncan's harmonica was missing from the bureau. And the window was wide open, empty and black, the paper shade lisping in the wind. "Duncan!" Justine called.

"Hurry, we have to find him!"

She already had one leg over the windowsill before he stopped her. He took hold of her arm and said, "Let him get a little head start again first, Justine."

20

Duncan sat on the floor with a twelve-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle, "Sunset in the Rockies." He had found all the straight edges and constructed the frame; but now he was simply moving pieces around, picking one up and tapping it against his teeth while he stared into space, setting it down, picking up another, turning several over to expose their gray cardboard backs. He considered turning the whole puzzle over and doing it all in gray.

He considered moving Justine back to Baltimore.

"Is that what you want?" he asked her when she came through wearing her hat.

She looked startled. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to move to Baltimore."

"Baltimore?"

"Baltimore, Maryland, Justine."

She stared at him.

"We'll live in Great-Grandma's house. Your house," he told her. "I'll find some kind of busywork with Peck and Sons. You know Dad's always said I could."

"You mean, stay forever?"

"No reason not to."

"Never again move?"

"Not unless you liked."

She thought a while, biting her lip.

"But you might not be happy there," she told him finally.

Which was her way of saying yes. He felt the answer settling on him by degrees, like a large heavy blanket drifting down. He was done for. Yet at the same time he had a sense of relief, almost. What else would you call this sudden giddiness? The other shoe had fallen. He nearly laughed.

Underneath, he must have known all through their marriage that this was where they were headed.