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Show •67 make a kind of moral tale out of what happened. Does he think that sad stories have a special power over women? Are you more likely to be faithful to me now that you know all about what a bitch my mother was?" "I'm sorry," Jacob said. "Me too," I said. "It's really nothing to get mad about after all this time." He smiled sadly. "Kiss him or something, Morgan. I'm sorry I yelled at him." "Today they're going to dive in the river for Adam's body," Carlo said. He let his hoe fall and sat down cross-legged in the grass beside it. "What?" Jacob said. "Oh Jesus!" "All right," I said. "It's a terrible thing to think about. But they're not going to find anything. Adam isn't there." "But what if-" "I know," I said. "Someone from the family should be there just in case, right?" The river's surface was flat, brown, inscrutable. In Mark Twain's book the people of Hannibal fired a cannon over the water to bring up drowned men. If that failed they floated loaves of bread on the river, which were said to drift to where the body had sunk. I tore a corner from my sandwich and tossed it into the Willamette, but it slipped slowly back |