*Do you know what birdshot can do, fired at close range? Right into someone's face? You could have killed that man. And it's really only by luck that you didn't. That the morning wasn't a complete and utter irreversible disaster is really not to your credit at all.'

Another long, embarrassed silence.

*I know,' Nat said. *I've thought about it.'

*Well, you'll have time to think about it a lot more. You're probably here until you turn eighteen. Because I meant what I said about the bail. You are the one who did this, so you will have to be the one to pay.'

The boy said nothing for a long time. Then he said, *You're right about one thing. I would have run out on the bail.'

*Why did you do this?' Nathan asked. *Are you trying to get my attention?'

The boy shrugged. *Everyone else does bad things. Why shouldn't I?'

*I don't. Lots of people don't.'

The boy sighed and brushed hair back out of his eyes. *I believed you,' he said. *I believed that as long as you were alive you'd never wash your hands of me. Never stop trying to civilize me. I was trying to get far away.'

*I see.'

*Wash your hands of me now?'

*No,' Nathan said.

Nathan had been home for several hours. He had fed Maggie and the pup in their run. Heated up a TV dinner for himself, hamburger patty with mashed potatoes. Eaten it in front of the news.

Then he brought Maggie and the nameless pup into the living room with him.

It wasn't until he turned off the TV and looked at the clock a noting that it was nearly eight o'clock a that he remembered.

He tried to look up Eleanor's number in the phone book, but it wasn't listed.

It took him several minutes, but he found her phone number in his old client records, in a banker's box in the garage.

When he got back inside, the pup was in the process of urinating against the corner of Nathan's couch.

Uttering mild, barely offensive curses, he first threw the pup back into the run, where the dog whimpered and yapped. Then he headed back to the garage for carpet and upholstery cleaner. But he stopped, knowing the phone call was more urgent. Which, considering Nathan's penchant for sanitation, made it unusually urgent.

She answered on the second ring.

*Oh, Eleanor,' he said. *I am so sorry. In fact, I'm more than sorry. I'm downright ashamed.'

In the intervening silence, he could hear the puppy's heated complaints.

*I probably shouldn't have asked you,' she said.

*Eleanor. I've been a widower for three years. You've been a widow for fifteen. There is nothing the slightest bit inappropriate about you asking me to dinner.'

*But when you didn't show up, I thought-'

*Well, you thought wrong,' he said. And told her, in about the three- or four-minute version, of the addition and then the subtraction of the boy he found in the woods. *Have you ever had a day like that?' he asked. *When something happens that's so huge it just erases everything that came before it?'

Silence on the line, during which Nathan believed she really was considering his question.

Then she said, *I suppose the day Arthur had his heart attack was a day like that.'

A vivid memory reared into Nathan's consciousness. Opening Flora's door at eleven a.m. to see why she wasn't awake yet. He firmly pushed the image back down again.

*I'm sorry for what you must have thought,' he said. *And I'm sorry because your dinner must have been ruined. And I don't suppose I'd blame you if you didn't think I was worth the second chance. But maybe I could take a rain check . . .'

At least this time he wouldn't have to worry that leaving Nat alone would amount to trouble. Because all the trouble in the world had already come to stay.

1 October 1975.

He Still Doesn't Really Know You.

Several days later, on the boy's birthday, Nathan came to visit.

In fact, he had been to visit every day since Nat's incarceration. But on this day he made more of a production of the visit. He tried to make it special without being sad, as special occasions in tragic circumstances tend to be.

He brought a birthday cupcake a a whole cake seemed excessive under the circumstances a half a roast duck in foil in a paper grocery sack, a photograph of the still-unnamed pup, and a small wrapped gift.

He stepped through the front door of the county facility, silently mourning how familiar the place had become.

*Ah. You,' Officer Frawley said as Nathan signed in.

Nathan could still see his own name prominent on the sign-in sheet among yesterday's visitors. There were only two, save himself.

*Yes,' Nathan said. *Me.'

It was a veiled criticism of the kind of useless prattle Nathan despised. Any type of small talk was abhorrent to him. But the officer had no way of knowing that, so it had not been a rude comment, or at least could not have been perceived as such. In fact, Nathan assumed that to Frawley it sounded quite a normal thing to say.

*Any progress on the return of my shotgun?' Nathan asked. As he did each time he signed in.

*No, but it'll happen eventually. The wheels of evidence grind real slow. What's that in the wrapping paper? Not likely I can let you in with that. Unless you're willing to unwrap it. I pretty much have to visually inspect anything you bring inside. Are you willing to unwrap it?'

*I guess I can if I absolutely have to. But it's his birthday. I hate to ruin the surprise. I suppose I could wrap it again when you're done looking. If you have some tape I can borrow.'

*Hmm. Sorry. No tape. We use staples on everything. Let me take a closer look at that, then.'

Nathan handed it over.

It was small, light and soft. It was not in a box of any sort. Nathan hoped it would be obvious, just by feel, that it had no real potential to be dangerous.

*This is OK. I can make an exception for this. Couldn't possibly hurt anyone, whatever it is. So, the little miscreant has a birthday today.'

*His name is Nat.'

The officer looked up at Nathan. Gauging. Measuring. It was clear from Nathan's voice that the man had overstepped a line. His interest seemed to be in learning how far.

*Right,' he said. *My mistake.'

*Anyone can make a mistake,' Nathan said. Aware that much of his fate rested in the hands of prison employees for several years at least.

*No one else visits every day,' the officer said. *Why is that?'

*I couldn't speak for anyone else.'

*Actually, I guess I meant, why are you so different?'

*I'm not sure I can speak to that, either,' Nathan said. *I am the way I am. We all are the way we are and I'm not sure any of us really knows why.'

*I guess you got a point there,' Frawley said.

Nathan set the cupcake, the roast duck, the photograph and the gift on the wood table between Nat and himself.

Nat picked up the photo.

*What's this?'

*Your new dog.'

*You got me a dog for my birthday?'

*No. I got you a dog the day you got arrested. I just hadn't gotten around to taking his picture until now.'

*Well, that makes more sense. Since you didn't know I wouldn't be around to meet him. Too bad about that. Are you going to take him back?'

*No.'

*You're keeping him for me?'

*If you want him.'

*Of course I want him. What's his name?'

*He doesn't have one. He's your dog, so you name him.'

Then the boy's eyes landed on the wrapped gift. The mystery of it clearly knocked all other thoughts out of his head. Even thoughts of dogs could not withstand the curiosity evoked by a wrapped gift.

*Open it now?' the boy asked.

The guard looked over Nat's shoulder to assure himself it was no more than Nathan had claimed.

*You may open it whenever you choose.'

The boy tore off the paper and stared at the gift. *It looks like a tiny little cap,' he said, turning it over in his fingers.

*It is.'

The guard backed off to the corner of the room again.

*Who could wear a cap this small?'

*You, when you were only one day old.'

*You mean, I was wearing this?'

*That's right.'

*When you found me? I was wearing this? And what else?'

*You were wrapped in a sweater. A full-size adult sweater.'

Nathan tried to gauge the boy's reaction from his face. His eyes. To see if the gift pleased or displeased him. It had been clear to Nathan all along that the pendulum could swing either way.

And yet it was a risk he'd felt compelled to take.

But there was nothing in the young man's face by which Nathan could judge. It was something like trying to peer into a room while the shades are pulled down.

Nathan wondered briefly if life was hard for Nat in here. If the other young men were bigger. Tougher. But it was an unanswerable question, and one he could do nothing about, anyway. He considered it none of his business, and was certainly not about to ask.

*Now where did she get a cap this small, do you think?'

*My theory is that she knitted it. I know she was a knitter.'

Nat snorted. *Right. Like my grandmother. Must run in the family. I never once had a hat or a scarf from the store. Or socks or mittens, for that matter. So, how did you get this? Wasn't it, like, evidence or something?'

*They took it off you in the emergency room and just threw it on the floor.'

*And you've kept it all this time? Why give it to me now?'

*I wanted you to know that she at least had some ambivalence. She left you to die but part of her wanted you to live. She was trying to keep you warm.'

Nat sat back in his chair. Suddenly. Hitting the chair back with a thump. He twirled the tiny cap around his index finger a few times, then tossed it up in the air, caught it, and crushed it tightly in his palm.

*That's not a lot of consolation,' he said.

*No, but it's some. We don't always get much. I'm sorry if it's not a good gift. I still don't really know you. I don't know what kind of things you like.'

Nat's palm opened and he dropped the cap on to the table between them. Then he picked it up and smoothed it out. Reshaped it carefully. Set it back down, more gently this time. In fact, with an almost exaggerated gentleness.

*No, it's good,' the boy said. *It's a good present.' He sat quietly for a minute, then added, *The baseball mitt was good, too. I really liked that.'