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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 |