Spencerville

The car, which bore no police markings, stopped at the edge of the grass where the muddy shore began, and Keith raised his binoculars. The driver's-side door opened, and Annie got out, wearing a red skirt and white blouse. She stood beside the open door a moment, looked around, then closed the door.

She walked down to the water's edge, carrying a loaf of bread. Keith watched her as she absently ripped open the wrapper and threw whole slices into the water. A few dozen ducks and geese swam toward the floating bread. Every few seconds, she looked over her shoulder.

Keith let a few minutes pass, then walked out of the tree line and waved to her.

She saw him, threw the loaf down, and hurried along the shore toward him as he came around to meet her.

As they drew closer, he saw by her expression that she was anxious but not terrified. She smiled and sprinted the last ten yards and literally jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs around him. "Hello, Mr. Landry."

They kissed, then she slid down and took his hands. She said, "It's good to see you." She glanced at the barrel of the rifle rising above his shoulder and said, "Maybe you didn't need that."

"I'm just out varmint shooting. Let's walk into the woods."

They walked side by side along the shore, and she glanced back a few times. She said, "I don't think I was followed. I brought my Lincoln in to Baxter Motors this morning and said I had a knock in the engine. They gave me a loaner. The damned Lincoln sticks out like a sore thumb around here. I think that's why Cliff's father gave it to me."

He smiled and said, "Sounds to me like you have had a few affairs."

"No, sir, but I've given some serious thought to how I would go about it. How about you, wise guy? Leave the car door open if you've been followed."

"That was my vocation. My avocation was tennis." He asked her, "Did Aunt Louise blow it?"

"Sort of. But it wasn't her fault. Cliff made it his business to stop by and see her and, for some reason, she told him I had dinner with her, and he asked me what I had for dinner."

"The devil is in the details."

"You can say that again. I'm just not good at this, Keith. Anyway, he's suspicious. He's always suspicious. This time, he's right."

They reached the trees and walked along the bank of the stream. It was cooler out of the sunlight, and the trees, mostly birch and willow, were just starting to turn. Keith had always liked autumn in the country, the trees ablaze with color, pumpkins and cider, the hunting season, and the harvest. He hadn't seen anything like it anywhere else in the world, and perhaps more than summer, it was the autumn that he thought of when he thought of home.

Annie tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up ahead. "Is that your horse?"

"It's a loaner horse. The Jenkinses' across the road."

"So that's how you got here. Are they still following you?"

"Maybe. I didn't want to find out today."

"Can't you get a court order or something?"

"I sort of enjoy the attention."

"I don't." Annie walked up to the mare and patted her neck. "This is a nice animal. We used to ride. Remember?"

"I do. You still ride?"

"No. But I'd like to." She took off her shoes and slipped off her panty hose, then untied the reins and led the horse around to drink from the stream. "She's thirsty."

Keith unslung his rifle and binoculars and laid them on a tree stump. He sat on a fallen trunk and watched her.

Annie asked, "Has she been fed?"

"I fed her about seven. No one's fed me yet."

She laughed. "Bachelors are so dumb. If you move their plates six inches to the left, they'd starve to death." Without looking at him, she asked, "Who took care of you all these years?"

"Uncle and Amex."

She glanced at him as she led the horse up the bank and tied the reins. "Did you have a good life, Keith?"

"I did."

"I did, too, despite my marriage. I learned how to enjoy other things."

"You always found something good in any situation. I was always looking for the dark lining in the silver cloud."

"Not always. You acted more cynical than you were."

"You read me too well."

"Well enough." Still barefoot, she walked to where he was sitting and lay down along the length of the trunk, her feet in his lap. "They're cold."

He dried her feet with his handkerchief and rubbed them.

"Feels good."

"How are we doing for time?"

"Who cares?"

"We do."

"Oh, we're all right. I'm doing Saturday errands around town. He's fishing up at Grey Lake in Michigan with his cronies. We have a hunting lodge there. He won't be home until late afternoon."

"You're sure?"

"The only thing he enjoys more than bothering me is fishing and hunting with his friends." She thought a moment and said, "God, I hate that place, but I'm glad he likes it. Keeps him away... we can be together when he's there."

"Do you go with him?"