What with one thing and another, I went in the Navy.
When I got out, I guess you was three years old already."
"Oh, Tucker."
"How's she doing? She still in Florida where they went?"
"St. Augustine. She's down to one lung. She lives in one of
those--assisted living places, they call them. She has her own space,
but there's help if need be. She gets around on a walker." Margery
paused.
"Tucker, why do we cling so to life?"
"Guess we ain't done yet."
Margery looked at him for a long moment, and they exchanged what could
be exchanged in small smiles. Tucker went inside the house and returned
with a heavy cardboard box. "While I'm at it," he said and began taking
out carvings and putting them on the table--more horses, deer,
squirrels, birds of all kinds, a woodchuck. Charlie held up a fox and
looked at it from different angles. Its tail was full, straight out
behind him, level with his back. His ears were sharply pointed, his
head tilted slightly, all senses alert. Charlie was sure it was a he;
the fox was elegant and challenging, superior.
"Damn near alive," Charlie said. "You could make money with these."
Tucker shook his head negatively. "Only do one a year. In the winter,
not much going on." He looked into the back yard. "Try to get it done
on February 15th."
"Mother's birthday."
"We used to talk about them a lot--animals and birds. Walk in the
woods, talk."
"Tucker, does she know about these?"
"Nope.
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