CHAPTER XXVI

What had happened; what had happened to Moses Wapshot? He was the better-looking, the brighter, the more natural of the two men and yet in his early thirties he had aged as if the crises of his time had been much harsher on a simple and impetuous nature like his than on Coverly, who had that long neck, that disgusting habit of cracking his knuckles and who suffered seizures of melancholy and petulance.

Moses arrived suddenly in Talifer one Saturday morning, unannounced. He found his brother washing windows. A mythology that would penetrate with some light the density of the relationship between brothers seems to stop with Cain and Abel and perhaps this is as it should be. The utter delight with which Coverly and Moses greeted one another was seasoned unselfconsciously with mayhem. Moses smiled scornfully at his brother’s window-washing rags. Coverly noticed that Moses’ face was red and swollen. Moses carried a walking stick with a silver handle. As soon as he got into the house he unscrewed the handle and poured himself a martini from the stock. “It holds a pint,” he said calmly. “Wouldn’t Father have liked one?” He drank his gin that early in the day as if the memory of his father and so many other stalwarts had exempted him, as a Wapshot, from the problems of abstemiousness and self-discipline. “I’m on my way to San Francisco,” he explained. “I thought I’d drop in. There’s a plane out at five. Melissa and the boy are fine. They’re just bully.”

He said this boisterously and with force for like Coverly—like Melissa—he had developed an adroitness at believing that what had happened had not happened, that what was happening was not happening and that which might happen was impossible. The mystery of Honora was their first concern. Coverly had telphoned St. Botolphs but no one had answered. His letters to Honora had been returned. Moses had felt that her letters about the holly tree might have concealed the fact that she was sick but how could this fit in with the fact that she had broken some law? Coverly might have shown his brother the computation center or let him see the gantry line through his binoculars but instead he drove Moses to the ruined farm and they walked there in the woods. It was a fine winter’s day in that part of the world and Coverly brought to its brightness and space considerable moodiness. The orchard still bore some crooked fruit and the sound and fragrance of windfalls seemed to him as ancient a piece of the world as its oceans. Paradise must (he thought) have smelled of windfalls. A few dead leaves coursed along the wind, reminding Coverly of the energies that drive the seasons. Watching the leaves drawn down and along he felt in himself an arousal of aspiration and misgiving. Moses appeared to be concerned principally with his thirst. When they had walked for a little while he suggested that they find a liquor store. As they were going back to the car there seemed to be an abort on the gantry line. There was a loud explosion from that direction and then there were signs that an air alert had been sounded. No planes could be seen in the blue sky but they could be heard roaring like that most innocent of roarings when a sea shell is held by some old man to the ear of a child.

They went back to the car and drove to a liquor store in the outskirts but the place was shut. A sign hung in the glass window: “This store is closed so that our employees can be with their families.” Now sporadic and senseless panic sometimes swept Talifer. A handful of men and women would lose their hopefulness and retire to their shelters to pray and get drunk; but this seemed no more significant to Coverly than the Adventists of his childhood who would now and then dress in sheets, climb Parson’s Hill and wait for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Total disaster seemed to be some part of the universal imagination. They drove on toward the shopping center and found a liquor store that was open. Moses said that he needed cash and the proprietor of the store, on Coverly’s endorsement, cashed a check for a hundred dollars. When they got back to the house Moses filled up his walking stick and settled down for some serious drinking. At four Coverly drove his brother to the commercial airport and said good-bye to him at the main entrance; a farewell that seemed to be for both of them a violent mixture of love and combativeness.

Three days later the liquor store called to say that Moses’ check had bounced. Coverly stopped there and covered it with a check of his own. On Thursday a motel near the airport called. “I saw your name in the phone book,” the stranger said, “and it’s such a funny name I thought you might be related. There’s a man out here named Moses Wapshot. He’s been here since Saturday and just by counting the empties I would guess he’s drinking about two quarts a day. He hasn’t made a nuisance of himself or nothing but unless he’s pouring the stuff down the sink he’s heading for trouble. I thought you ought to know if he was a member of your family.” Coverly said he would be right out and he drove to the motel but when he got there Moses had gone.