She dismisses the apology and theevent and resumes her dance of departure, knitting all their emotionsso they won't ravel and leak away in her absence.I wait for him to rise. He, of course, is captured by her performanceand I must allow that, but I wait patiently, dallying without seemingto dally, until, as she moves from view down the hall, surrounded bythose courtiers who also take her bus, he looks around.He is seeking his glove. He already has one on. He will walk home,carrying that briefcase and the snowy evening outside will be bittercold without them both.I have his glove, brushed from his coat pocket by the passage of peopleas he rose and, perhaps, helped by me. While his back was turned, Ibrought it to my lips and kissed its inside lining. Now I hold it outto him."Here; you dropped this." I say it with a smile that puts patience andfriendliness and amusement and perhaps a bit of caring up on displayfor him and he senses it. He smiles, a casual smile that is the onlyone he. Life was good.Billy jumped down off the haystack after he had put the last bale in place. He ran to the tractor and climbed onto the fender. “Let’s go, baby,” he smiled as Sally put the tractor in gear pushing the throttle up to full, and threw up a cloud of dust that drifted toward the house. Sally’s daddy stood with her mother on the front porch watching her race the tractor back down the road toward the big oak tree. He smiled and turned to her mother. “Reckon they’re headed to that tree for what we used to head to it for?” He grinned. “Well, dear, I think they just might be,” she smiled. “Did you see the love in your daughter’s eyes just now?” she asked. “I think they finally got together, it’s about time,” she said softly. “I told you they were meant for each other.”“Yeah, I know, I should have listened to you,” he replied. “It’s about time,” he chuckled.The tractor had barely stopped moving when Billy and Sally jumped off. Sally grabbed Billy’s hand and led him to.
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