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Show -43 "No. I can't sleep anymore. I'll g o downstairs and see what they're up to." In the hall at the bottom of the stairs I stopped to look at the bathroom door; the hole I made when I threw the hammer at Adam had been expertly patched and painted over; I couldn't find it with my fingers. I threw that hammer hard-- if my father hadn't ducked it could have killed him. When I walked into the dining room Carlo was standing in the middle of the floor doing juggler's tricks with three apples; round and round they went, left to right and up and down, following each other in perfect order. Jacob watched him, his chin in his hands, elbows on the table. Behind the precision of the flying apples my kid brother's face was fixed in a grin. "What are you doing?" I said. Carlo's grin vanished. "I'm just nervous, Buck. I like to juggle things; it calms me down." "You do it very well." "I'm terrific with three of anything," he said, keeping the red globes moving with absent-minded concentration, "but if I try four I drop them all." "What were you two talking about?" "This and that," Jacob said. "We were just catching up on what's happened since the last time I was here." "Nothing's changed, has it?" I said. "I could have left |
