Anne Tyler - The Tin Can Tree

'Yes, ma'am.'

He walked toward the Pikes' end of the porch, with everyone's eyes following him. At the door he stopped and said, 'Did he have any money?'

'He gets an allowance,' said Mr Pike. 'I don't know if he saved it.'

'Did he get some this week?'

He was asking this of Mrs Pike, but she just shook her head. 'I don't know,' she said. Finally James turned back again and went on inside.

It was Tommy Jones's mother who answered the telephone. Her voice was breathless, as if she had had to come running from some other part of the house. 'Hello?' she said.

'Mrs Jones, this is James Green. Is Tommy there?'

'No, he's not.'

'Do you know where he is?'

'No. Is this about Simon still?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

They haven't found him?'

'No. Do you think Tommy'll be getting back soon?'

'I really don't, 'she said. 'He's off someplace with his girl. Shall I have him call?'

'No, thank you. Sorry to bother you.'

'It's no bother.'

He hung up and stood thinking a while, and then he went out to the front porch again. In just the short time that the telephone call had taken the colour of the evening had shifted, turning from sunset into twilight. The others were standing where he had left them, still looking in his direction as if their eyes had never moved from the spot where he had disappeared. ‘Tommy's not there,' he said.

'Well, I could have told you that,' Mr Pike said irritably. He swung his arms down, making the bell clang again, and started toward the front yard. Tm going to round up a couple others,' he called back. 'We'll look in all the places where he goes, and ring bells or fire guns if we find him. Want to come, James?'

'I'm not sure that's the way,' James said.

'Only thing I can think of. Mind if I use your truck?'

'Well, wait,' said James. He came down the steps and crossed over to Mr Pike. 'No, I'd like to take the truck and follow up an idea of my own, I think I -'

'When I was a little boy…' Ansel announced, and everyone turned around to look at him. He had recovered from that last clang and was standing erect now, placing the tips of his fingers together. 'When I was a little boy, I had to tell my mother everywhere I went. It was a rule. And I could never go out of hearing range of this old Army bugle, that my father would stand in the doorway and blow at suppertime -'

'If you could come along,' Mr Pike told James, 'and bring a noisemaker of some kind, why, we could start by -'

'I was thinking of Caraway,' James said.

'Caraway?'

'I was thinking that was where he might've gone.'

'Oh, Caraway,’ Mr Pike said impatiently. ‘ I been there. No, more likely he went off on some hike or other, and forgot to let us know.’

'Well, I'd like to try Caraway anyhow,' said James.

'But James, that's a waste of-'

'Let him,' said Mrs Pike, and once again the Potter sisters closed in on her and patted her shoulders. 'Hush, hush,' they whispered. James pulled out his billfold and checked his money; there was plenty for gas. He turned to Mr Pike.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I just feel I know where he's at.'

'Well, that's all right,' said Mr Pike. 'Sure wish I could have the loan of your pickup, though.'

'I'll make the trip as fast as I can.'

'Well, sure.' Mr Pike sighed, and then he set off wearily across the yard. He carried the elephant bell upside down, with his fingers poked through the inward-curling teeth of it to hold the clapper silent. When he reached the gravel road he turned back and said, 'Ansel? You feel up to coming along?'

'Not really,' said Ansel. 'I just feel miserable about all this.'

Mr Pike nodded several times and then continued down the road in the direction of the Terry's. 'Poor man,' said Miss Lucy, and then she and Miss Faye began patting Mrs Pike harder than before.

James said, 'Ansel, take in the groceries. And fix yourself something for supper, in case I'm late getting back.'

'Well, all right,' Ansel said.

'I don't expect you want to come with me.'

'No.'

James descended the porch steps. In the distance he could see Mr Pike, far and small already, marching on steadily with his shoulders set. It seemed so clear to James that Simon was in Caraway – where else would he be? that he felt sorry to see Mr Pike going to all this trouble. He wanted to call him back, but he knew there was no use. So he just turned around and said, 'Ansel -'and bumped squarely into Mrs Pike, who was standing right behind him. 'Oh, excuse me,' he said. 'I didn't hear you coming.' She remained silent, with her arms still folded and her head bowed meekly. 'Well, 'he said. 'Ansel, I'm going to call you at the Pikes' number when I get there. To tell you what happens, in case Mrs Pike is going to be over at the Potters'.'

'All right,' said Ansel. 'Does that mean I can stay at the Pikes' until you call?'

'I don't care, for heaven's sake.'

He continued on toward the pickup, and Mrs Pike kept following after him. When he opened the door on the driver's side she opened the other door, and it was only then that he realized she meant to come along. They stood staring at each other for a minute across the expanse of seat; then Mrs Pike lowered her eyes and climbed in, and he did the same. He could see that the others on the porch were just as surprised as he was – they came closer together, and turned to look at each other – but Mrs Pike didn't offer to explain herself. She sat quietly, with her eyes straight ahead and her hands clasped in her lap. Even when he craned his neck around to look out the rear window as he was backing out, she stared ahead. The stoniness of her face gave her a calm, sure look, as sure as James felt inside; she must know where Simon was by instinct.

When they were on the main highway James turned his lights on. Already the opaque white look of early twilight was growing bluer and more transparent, and other cars as they came towards him clicked their own lights on. But he could see around him clearly still: the landmarks of the journey to town slipping by, and then a brief glimpse of Main Street itself before he passed it. It felt funny to keep going straight, instead of turning there. A strange sinking feeling began in his stomach, and he looked into the rear-view mirror and watched the town lights fading away from him. 'Don't worry,' he said suddenly to Mrs Pike, but Mrs Pike wasn't looking worried at all; she only nodded, calmly.

'I'm just waiting,' she told him.

'Oh.'

'I'll take what I get. Whatever I deserve.'

'Yes, ma'am,' James said.

He swerved around a little boy riding a bicycle. Where was Simon at this minute? Maybe swaggering down a street alone, trying to look as if he knew where he was going. Searching for some sign – a boy with a ring in his ear or a woman in a red-plumed hat, someone who would expect him the way he had expected them. James frowned. The clomping of Simon's leather boots seemed louder than the sound of the motor; the fuzz down the back of Simon's neck seemed clearer than the road ahead of him.

'It's been a pretty day,' he said.

'Yes.'

'Where's Joan?'

'I don't know,' said Mrs Pike. She looked out at the road a while, and then she said, 'I sewed a dress today.'

'Oh, did you?'

'Yes.'

'Well, now,' James said. He cleared his throat. 'I always thought a dress would take days to make.'

'Anything happens,' said Mrs Pike, 'it's only my fault. My fault.'

'Well, now,' James said again.

The truck was travelling too fast, he thought. Already the countryside looked like Caraway countryside; not Larksville. In his mind he had added mile upon mile to this trip, stretching the road out long and thin till Caraway might have been in Asia. Yet before they had been on the road half an hour they reached Stevens's Esso Station – the halfway mark – and he braked sharply and turned in. 'Need gas,' he told Mrs Pike. She nodded. The meter said the tank was half full, but stopping this way would slow things down a little.