Nim had grown up accepting his father's choice. The festival of Passover and the High Holy Days-Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur-passed unobserved by, the Goldman family and now, as an outcropping of Isaac's personal rebellion, a third generation-Nim's own children Leah and Benjy-were removed from Jewish heritage and identity. No bar mitzvah for Benjy had been planned, an omission which occasionally troubled Nim and prompted the question: Despite decisions be had made about himself, did he have the right to separate his children from five thousand years of Jewish history? It was not too late, be knew, but so far Nim had not resolved the issue.

As he thought of his family, Nim realized he had neglected to call Ruth to tell her be would not be home until late. He reached for the mobile phone to his right below the instrument panel-a convenience which GSP & L supplied and paid for. An operator answered and lie gave her his home number. Moments later he beard a ringing tone, then a small voice.

"Goldman residence, Bcnjy Goldman speaking." Nim smiled. That was Benjy all right-even at ten, precise and systematized, in contrast to his sister Leah, four years older, perennially disorganized and who answered phones with a casual, "Hi!"

"It's Dad," Nim said. "I'm on mobile." He had taught the family to wait when they heard that because on a radio-telephone conversations couldn't overlap. He added, "Is everything all right at home?"

"Yes, Dad, it is now. But the electricity went off." Benjy gave a little chuckle. "I guess you knew. And, Dad, I reset all the clocks."

"That's good, and yes, I knew. Let me talk to your mother."

"Leah wants . . ."

Nim heard a scuffling, then the voice of his daughter. "Hi! We watched the TV news. You weren't on." Leah sounded accusing. The children had become used to seeing Nim on television as spokesman for GSP & L. Perhaps Nim's absence from the screen today would lower Leah's status among her friends.

"Sorry about that, Leah. There were too many other things happening. May I talk to your mother?"

Another pause. Then, "Nim?" Ruth's soft voice.

He pressed the push-to-talk bar. "That's who it is. And getting to talk to you is like elbowing through a crowd."

While talking, be changed freeway lanes, manoeuvring the Fiat with one hand. A sign announced the San Roque turnoff was a mile and a half ahead.

"Because the children want to talk, too? Maybe it's because they don't see much of you at home." Ruth never raised her voice, always sounding gentle, even when administering a rebuke. It was a justified rebuke, he admitted silently, wishing he hadn't raised the subject.

"Nim, we heard about Walter and the others. It was on the news; it's terrible. I'm truly sorry."

He knew that she meant it, and that Ruth was aware how close he and the chief had been. That kind of understanding was typical of Ruth, even though in other ways she and Nim seemed to have less and less rapport nowadays compared with how it used to be. Not that there was any open hostility. There wasn't.

Ruth, with her quiet imperturbability, would never let it come to that, Nim reasoned. He could visualize her now-composed and competent, her soft gray eyes sympathetic. She had a Madonna quality, he had often thought; even without the good looks she possessed in abundance, character alone would have made her beautiful. He knew, too, she would be sharing this moment with Leah and Benjy, explaining, treating them as equals in that easy way she always had. Nim never ceased to respect Ruth, especially as a mother.

It was simply that their marriage had become uninteresting, even dull; in his own mind he characterized it as "a bumpless road to nowhere." there was something else-perhaps an outgrowth of their mutual malaise. Recently Ruth seemed to have developed interests of her own, interests she wouldn't talk about. Several times Nim called home when normally she would have been there; instead, she appeared to have been out all day and later dodged explaining, which was unlike her. Had Ruth taken a lover? It was possible, he supposed. In any case, Nim wondered how long and how far they would drift before something definite, a confrontation, had to happen.

"We're all shaken up," he acknowledged. "Eric has asked me to go to Ardythe and I'm on my way there now. I expect I'll be late. Probably very late.

Don't wait up."

That was nothing new, of course. More evenings than not, Nim worked late.

The result: Dinner at home was either delayed or lie missed it entirely.

It also meant he saw little of Leah and Benjy, who were often in bed, sometimes asleep, when Nim arrived. Sometimes Nim had guilt feelings about the meager amount of time he spent with the children and he knew it troubled Ruth, though it was a rare occasion when she said so.

Sometimes he wished she complained more.

But tonight's absence was different. It needed no further explanations or excuses, even to himself.

"Poor Ardythe," Ruth said. "Just as Walter was getting near retirement.

And that announcement just now makes it even worse."

"What announcement?"

"Oh, I thought you'd know. It was on the news. The people who planted the bomb sent-a communique I think they called it-to a radio station. They were boasting about what they'd done. Can you imagine? What kind of people must they be?"

"Which radio station?" As he spoke, Nim put down the phone with a swift movement, snapped the car radio to "on," then scooped up the phone again in time to hear Ruth say, "I don't know."

"Listen," be told her, "it's important I bear. So I'm going to bang up now and, if I can, I'll call you from Ardythe's."

Nim replaced the phone. The radio was already tuned to an all-news station and a glance at his watch showed a minute to the half hour when he knew there would be a news summary.

The San Roque off-ramp was in sight and he swung the Fiat onto it. The Talbots' home was just a mile or so away.

On the radio, a trumpet blast punctuated by Morse code announced a news bulletin. The item Nim had been waiting for was at the top.

"A group calling itself Friends of Freedom has claimed responsibility for an explosion today at a Golden State Power & Light generating plant. The blast claimed four lives and caused a widespread failure of electric power.

"The disclosure was in a tape recording delivered to a local radio station late this afternoon. Police have said that information on the tape points to its authenticity. They are examining the recording for possible clues."

Obviously, Nim thought, the station he was listening to was not the one which received the tape. Broadcasters didn't like to acknowledge a competitor's existence and, even though news like this was too important to be ignored, the other radio station wasn't being named.

"According to reports, a man's voice on the tape recording-so far unidentified-stated, quote, 'Friends of Freedom are dedicated to a People's revolution and protest the monopoly of power -which belongs rightfully to the people! End quote.

"Commenting on the deaths which occurred, the recording says, quote, 'Killing was not intended, but in the people's revolution now beginning, capitalists and their lackeys will be casualties, suffering for their crimes against humanity.' End quote.

"An official of Golden State Power & Light has confirmed that sabotage was the cause of today's explosion, but would make no other comment.

"Retail meat prices are likely to be higher soon. In Washington today the Secretary of Agriculture told a consumers . . ."

Nim reached out, snapping off the radio. The news depressed him with its sickening futility. He wondered about its effect on Ardythe Talbot, whom he was soon to see.

In the growing dusk he saw that several cars were parked outside the Talbots' modest, neat two-story house with its profusion of flower beds -a lifelong bobby of Walter's. Lights were on in the lower rooms.

Nim found a spot for the Fiat, locked it, and walked up the driveway.

5.

The front door of the house was open and a hum of voices was audible. Nim knocked and waited. When no one answered, he went in.

In the hallway the voices became clearer. They were coming from the living room to the right, be realized. Nim could hear Ardythe. She sounded hysterical and was sobbing. He caught disconnected words. " those murderers, oh my God! . . . was good and kind, wouldn't harm anyone . . . to call him those filthy names . . ." Interspersed were other voices, attempting to bring calm but not succeeding.

Nim hesitated. The living room door was ajar, though he could neither see in nor be seen. He was tempted to tiptoe out, leaving as unnoticed as he had come. Then abruptly the living room door opened fully and a man came out. Closing the door quickly behind him, he leaned back against it, his bearded, sensitive face pale and strained, eyes shut tightly as if for a moment's relief. The closed door cut off most of the sound from inside.

"Wally," Nim said softly. "Wally."

The other opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to collect himself. "Ob, it's you, Nim. Thanks for coming."

Nim had known Walter Talbot Jr., an only son, almost as long as he had been a friend of the dead chief. Wally Jr., too, worked for GSP&L-as a transmission lines maintenance engineer. He was married, with children, and lived on the opposite side of the city.

"There's not a helluva lot anyone can say," Nim told him. "Except I'm sorry."

Wally Talbot nodded. "I know." He motioned with an apologetic gesture toward the room lie had left. "I had to come out a minute. Some damn fool put the TV on and heard that goddamned announcement those murdering bastards made. Before that we'd calmed Mother down a bit. It set her off again. You probably heard."

"Yes, I did. Who's in there?"

"Mary, for one. We left someone with the kids and came on over. Then a lot of neighbors have been coming in; most are still here. I guess they mean well, but it isn't helping. If Dad were here he'd . . ." Wally stopped, forcing a wan smile. "It's hard to get used to the idea he won't be around anymore."

"I've been feeling that way, too." It was clear to Nim that Wally Jr. was in no shape to take charge of what was happening in the house.

"Listen," Nim said, "it can't go on like this. Let's go in there. I'll talk to your mother and do the best I can. You and Mar), start easing the others out."

"Okay, that makes sense. Thanks, Nim' Obviously, what Wally had needed was a lead.

There were perhaps ten people standing or seated in the living room as Nim and Wally went in. The room was bright and comfortable, normally spacious, but seemed crowded now. It was also hot, despite air conditioning. Several conversations were being conducted at the same time and the TV had been left on, contributing to a general hubbub. Ardythe Talbot was on a sofa, surrounded by several women, one of whom was Mary, Wally Jr.'s wife. The others Nim didn't recognize. Presumably they were the neighbors Wally had spoken of.

'though Ardythe was sixty at her last birthday-Nim and Ruth had attended a party to celebrate it-shc remained a strikingly handsome woman with a good figure and a strong face only lightly marked with beginning lines of age. Her stylishly short auburn hair was streaked naturally with gray.

Ardythe played tennis regularly and the effect showed in radiant good health. Today, though, her poise had crumbled. Her tear-stained face appeared drawn and old.

Ardythe was still speaking as she had been earlier, her voice choked, the words disjointed. But she stopped when she saw Nim.

"Ob, Nim." She put out her arms and the others made way as he went to her, sat beside her on the sofa and held her. "Oh, Nim," she repeated.

"You heard the terrible thing that happened to Walter?"

"Yes, dear," lie said gently. "I heard."

Nim observed Wally across the room, switch off the TV, then take his wife aside and speak to her quietly. Mary nodded. Immediately the two of them approached others, thanking them, ushering them out one by one. Nim continued to hold Ardythe, not speaking, trying to calm and comfort her. Soon the living room was quiet. Nim heard the front door close behind the last of the departing neighbors. Wally and Mary, who had gone out to the hallway, came back. Wally ran a band through his hair and beard. "I could use a stiff scotch," be announced. "Anyone else?"

Ardythe nodded. So did Nim.

"I'll get them," Mary said. She busied herself with glasses and mixes, then ashtrays, tidying the living room, removing its signs of recent occupancy.

Mary was slim, gamine and businesslike. Before her marriage to Wally she worked on the creative side of an advertising agency and still did freelance work while also caring for her family. Ardythe was sitting up unaided now, sipping her scotch, some signs of composure returning. She said suddenly, "I expect I look a mess."

"No more than anyone would," Nim assured her. But Ardythe had gone to a mirror. "Oh, my goodness!" She told the others, "Have your drinks. I'll be back soon." She left the living room, carrying her scotch, and they could hear her going upstairs. Nim reflected with wry amusement: Few men are ever as resilient or strong as women. Just the same, he decided, he would tell Wally first of Eric Humphrey's warning that the family should not view Walter's remains. He remembered, with a shudder, the chairman's words. ". . . virtually no skin left . . .

Faces are unrecognizable." Mary had gone to the kitchen. While the two men were alone, as gently as he could and omitting details, Nim explained the situation.

The reaction was immediate. Wally tossed back the remainder of his scotch. With tears in his eyes he protested, "Oh Christ!-it's had enough to hear. I couldn't tell Mother that. You'll have to."

Nim was silent, dreading what was to come. Fifteen minutes later Ardythe returned. She had made up her face, rearranged her hair and changed from the dress she had been wearing into a smart blouse and skirt. While her eyes and demeanor revealed grief, superficially she was closer to her normal, attractive self. Mary, too, had returned to the living room. This time Wally replenished the drinks and the four of them sat, uneasily at first, uncertain of what to say.

It was Ardythe who broke the silence.

She said firmly, "I want to see Walter." then, turning to Wally, "Do you know where your father has been taken, what . . . arrangements have been made?"

"Well...there's a..." Wally stopped, got up and kissed his mother, then, standing where he did not have to meet her eyes, continued, "There's a problem, Mother. Nim is going to talk to you about it. Aren't you, Nim?"

Nim wished be were somewhere, anywhere, else.

"Mother, dear," Wally said, still standing. "Mary and I have to go home to the children for a while. We'll come back. And one of us will stay the night with you."

As if she had not heard, Ardythe intoned, "What problems? . . . Why can't I see Walter? . . Someone tell me."

Wally, went out quietly, Mary following. Ardythe seemed unaware they had gone.

"Please . . . Why can't I . . . ?"

Nim took her hands and held them between his own. "Ardythe, listen to me.

Walter died suddenly. It was all over in less than a second. He didn't have time to know what was happening and there could have been no pain." Nim hoped it was true. He went on, "But because of what happened, he was disfigured."

Ardythe moaned.

" Walter was my friend," Nim persisted. "I know bow be thought. He wouldn't have wanted you to see him as he is now. He would have wanted you to remember him He stopped, choked by his own emotion, not sure that Ardythe had heard or, even if she had, had understood. Once more they sat in silence.

More than an hour had gone by since Nim arrived.

"Nim," Ardythe said at length. "Have you had any dinner?"

He shook his head. "There wasn't time. I'm not hungry." He was having trouble adjusting to Ardythe's sudden changes of mood.

She got up. "I'm going to make you something."

He followed her into the compact, orderly kitchen which Walter Talbot had designed himself. Characteristically, Walter had first made a time and motion study of functions to be performed, then positioned everything for maximum convenience and a minimal need to move around. Nim seated himself at an island worktable, watching Ardythe, not interfering, reasoning she was better off with something to do. She heated soup and served it in earthenware mugs, sipping her own while she put together an omelette, seasoned with chives and mushrooms. When she divided the omelette between them, Nim discovered he was hungry after all, and ate with enjoyment. Ardythe made an initial effort, then left most of her portion. They followed the meal with strong coffee which they took into the living room. Speaking quietly and rationally, Ardythe said, "I may insist on seeing Walter."

"If you do," Nim told her, "no one can stop you. But I hope you won't."

"Those people who planted the bomb, who killed Walter and the others. Do you think they'll be caught?"

"Eventually. But it's never easy when you're dealing with crazies. Because they aren't rational, it makes them harder to catch. But if they try something similar-which they probably will-thc odds are on their being caught and punished."

"I suppose I ought to care about them being punished. But I don't. Is that bad?"

"No," Nim said. "In any case, other people will take care of that."

"Whatever happens, it can't change anything. It wouldn't bring Walter . .. or the others . . . back." Ardythe mused. "Did you know we were married thirty-six years? I should be grateful for that. It's more than many people have, and most of the time was good . . . Thirty-six years . . ." She began crying softly. "Hold me, Nim."

He put his arms around her and cradled her head on his shoulder. He could feel her crying, though not hysterically any longer. These -were tears of farewell and acceptance, of memory and love; gentle and cleansing tears as the human psyche began its healing process-as old, Unexplainable and wondrous as life itself.