PARTISAN REVIEW
367
On the last evening of their stay at the cabin, they walked along
the edge of the lake, their hands linked, and looked at the cabins
and houses, at the summer mansions, and at the docks where dozens
of boats, drawn out of the water for winter, were hanging under
roofs of corrugated tin, swinging with the wind, light glancing off
their hulls. The wind moved the branches of the trees above them,
and leaves scattered across their pa:th. They stopped, their hands still
linked. Far out on the lake, a
small
rowboat stood alone on the
water. Against the channel of moonlight on the lake, they could see
the silhouette of a single man in the boat, and the thin fishing rod,
which from the position of his hands the man apparently held, was
invisible. Occasionally the wind carried to them the sound of the
man's voice. He was singing to himseH in a gentle bass. "He must
be scared out there," Owen's father said. "That's why he keeps that
singing up. He's trying to scare off what he's scared of." And then
he added, in an altered voice, "Or
else
the past." And Owen felt
the fingers of his mother's hand tense.
WHEN they returned home, the feeling that had bound them
together was gone. Owen's father woke him more and more at night,
he drank more, and many mornings there was no breakfast waiting
for Owen, and since Owen was afraid to disturb
his
mother, who
appeared to be
ill
and was keeping to her bedroom, Owen usually
went off to school without breakfast. A couple of weeks later Owen's
father left for Lake Geneva, saying that he had to fix the windows
and stove before winter. He was supposed to be gone for the entire
weekend, so Owen was surprised when he saw
him
come through the
front door the next morning, tense and expectant, and hurry into
the master bedroom. Owen went back to the kitchen table and con–
tinued eating the breakfast that he, out of necessity, had grown ac–
customed to fixing for himseH - cold cereal and milk. His father
came into the kitchen, with his overcoat still on, and sat down at
the table. His face was drawn and pale, and he wouldn't look at
Owen.
"Did your mother put you to bed last night?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Did you
fall
asleep right away?"
"No. I couldn't."
"Did you hear anybody come or go in the house?"
