right where you are kneeling,” Mason said.
“Did he speak to you or Grandpa?” I asked.
“He did not say one word,” Mason said. “He just stood there with his lower jaw shifting side to side.”
“Where did he go after that?” I asked.
“He went back to the shed and pulled the door shut,” Mason said.
I double-knotted the shoe lace and patted Mason on his knee.
“Go inside and get your heavy coat off the mudroom hook,” I said.
Mason stood up and ran past my father into the house, letting the door latch behind him.
Duane remained sitting on the top step, his eyes fixed on the seed shed down by the driveway.
He unbuttoned the lower button of his tan Sunday jacket so the heavy wool would not bind across his stomach.
He rested his weight against his hickory cane and reached down with his right
