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"Did he?" She shook her head. "He would never show them to me. I thought, okay, when he's good and ready he will."

I didn't want to tell her how much of his poetry was about his being in a cage, a cage he clearly made sound as if she had created.

"Can he really go all the way to Albany on that scooter?"

"I don't know," she said. "I was surprised he actually gave it any attention and brought it back to use."

"He said you wouldn't let him use your car."

"Well, we have only the one, so I did have to keep its use somewhat restricted. I never liked feeling helpless this far out with no close neighbors, but I was hoping to have enough money soon to buy him something used for himself."

"If he could have gotten a summer job at least .. ."

"Oh, I've tried to get him to do that, but he insists on staying close to home. He does take good care of our property. I'm so worried for him now," she added. "So worried."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I was just getting myself ready to drive up there, trying to find the strength. I thought maybe I would see him along the way if he is going all the way on that scooter. He might have gone to the bus depot in town, too," she suggested.

"I can check that if you like," I said. "I'm heading to the cafe, and I know the bus depot is nearby. If I see his scooter anywhere .. ."

"Oh, please. Call me if you see it. I'll wait so at least I'll know that."

"I will," I said. "The receiver is off the hook, so be sure to hang it up."

"It is?"

"Maybe he didn't want to speak to me. Maybe he was afraid I would react like you did and try to talk him out of going to the hospital to do a mean thing."

She smiled and stood up.

"You're such a mature young lady. I don't know many girls your age except the ones I meet at the church events, but you seem older to me."

"That's not always good," I said and started away. I knew that when she saw my limp, she would be curious. It was written in her gaze. "I was in a bad automobile accident this year," I told her when I reached the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Be careful," she added.

"I'll call you soon," I said and continued, but when I looked back at the phone in the hall, I saw a large framed photograph and paused to look.

"Is this . . . is this you and your husband?" I asked.

"Right after we were married," she said. "As you see, he was a very handsome man. Duncan looks a lot like him, don't you think?"

I was speechless for a moment.

"When . . . when was Duncan born?" I asked.

"Not for two years later. We were both worried about having enough to raise a family," she replied. "We had difficulty having another child. She died in childbirth. We don't talk about it, if you're wondering why Duncan might not have mentioned it."

"Yes," I said, nodding. Then I turned and walked out.

For a moment I stood on the porch looking out at the driveway. I was dizzy. All that she had told me, her whole demeanor, contradicted everything I had understood. Why had Duncan told me those things and not told me others? It filled me with a mixture of emotions--anger and disappointment, but also greater curiosity.

I got into my aunt's car and turned around to drive out and to town. I was in such a daze that I don't know how I got there without having an accident. Somehow, I made all the right turns and ended up in front of the bus depot. There was a parking lot nearby, and sure enough, I saw Duncan's scooter.

I went into the depot and asked the attendant when the last bus had gone to Albany. He told me it had left nearly two hours earlier and by now had arrived in Albany. Duncan was surely at the hospital, I thought.

As quickly as I could, I drove to the cafe. Without even saying hello to my aunt and uncle, I got to the phone and called Duncan's mother. She must have been hovering over it. I don't think it finished a first ring before she snatched up the r