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Show •129 around me like an enormous heart and I wanted to cry out "Father! Father!" thinking of the thing I saw them lift out of the muddy water. This choking in the throat, this fear, these certainly were grief, I thought. "Carlo, get your feet down," Alice said. "It's not civilized to sit like that. You look like a savage." He put them down obediently. She turned to me. "What are the arrangements going to be?" Carlo spoke up suddenly. "I wasn't his son, you know." "Whose son?" Alice said impatiently. "What are you talking about?" "I'm not, am I? I know I'm not. No." Of the three of us half-brothers Carlo was the one who looked unmistakably like Adam. We all resembled our father a little, but if you took away Adam's beard and added a few inches to Carlo's height, they could have been twins-black tightly-curled hair, small white teeth, dark eyes, the face long and easily given to melancholy expressions-all in all Carlo was more surely Adam's child than Jacob or I could claim to be. "Go get that picture in the bedroom," I told Jacob. "The one from the WPA." "What's in a picture? I know the facts," Carlo said. A beardless Adam stood leaning on a shovel in a shadowy forest. My father at the age of twenty-four. Behind him |