August appeared again, and the Griffiths celebrated Davy’s sixteenth birthday with another hickory nut cake from Harriet. She took pains to explain to Davy how difficult such a cake was to make because pignut hickories were very good but very hard to crack. Only special people deserved that much work, she said with a smile, presenting him with a large slice.
Davy thought more and more about staying where he was, becoming a hat maker and marrying Harriet. Surely he could find some way to escape the madness that was creeping over his boss. Thoughts of home became less frequent. Christiansburg was becoming his home.
One afternoon Griffith exploded when Harriet returned from Goodell’s general store without a bucket of shellac. How can I seal the inside of these hats without shellac, he screamed at her. Through tears she explained a teamster was late with his wagon of paints, shellac and turpentine. Her father was not capable of listening to reason. He promised three customers their hats would be ready by tomorrow morning, and now that would be impossible. How could he put food on the table if he could not get his supplies on time, he fumed. Finally, Harriet fled the house choking back sobs. Davy knew to keep his head down, and continue to boil water and soak pelts. A half hour passed in tense silence until Griffith looked up and smiled.
“Where’s Harriet?” he asked in innocence.
“I don’t know,” Davy replied in a measured tone.
“Why don’t you go find her?” Griffith winked at him. “We wouldn’t want to lose her, would we?”
Davy put aside the wet pelts, dried his hands and went out the door, first running to their special spot in the woods, but she was not there. More and more Harriet disappeared for longer periods, and Davy could not find her. This specific day Davy sensed an overwhelming disaster heading his way. Griffith could not continue much longer in his current condition without dying or becoming incapacitated. Harriet would have to find somewhere else to live. From the woods Davy walked down the dirt road past the town pound where stray horses and cattle were kept. He headed to the newly painted house of the town lawyer.
“Master Davy,” Mister Harp said. He was in his late twenties. “Come in. Do you have a story for me today?”
“No.” He stepped with undue shyness toward Harp’s desk.
“Sit down, boy.” The lawyer’s brow furrowed with concern.
Finding the edge of the cane-backed chair, Davy settled in, his head leaning forward. “Do you know, I mean, in case you happen to know someone, what happens if, and where would someone go if, and who would pay for it?”
His blue eyes, tinged with sadness, Harp replied, “Unfortunately, I think I know what you mean. Mister Griffith is not doing well, is he? He’s always been a perfect gentleman around me, but I’ve heard stories, and, of course, the mercury he works with is dangerous. Have you heard about that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So it really isn’t his fault, is it? I mean, every man has to make a living some way, and when he first started making hats he had no idea how dangerous it was. Coal mining, everyone knows about cave-ins and such.” Harp paused to consider Davy’s expression. “This isn’t your problem, you know. You can move on. He’s never had an apprentice stay as long as you have. No one could fault you for leaving.”
Davy opened his mouth but could not express his feelings in words. Griffith, despite his slow slide into dementia, was a better father to him than his own father ever had been. Then there was Harriet, the first girl whose tears he had wiped away, the first girl he had kissed and the first girl who made him consider someone other than himself.
“Ah, um, what about, I mean, someone needs to think of, take care of Harriet,” he finally said.
“Does she have any relatives?”
“She ain’t never said nothin’ ‘bout none.” Davy paused. “What’s goin’ to happen to Mister Griffith?”
“There’s only one insane asylum in Virginia. Over at Williamsburg, but that’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anybody.”
“Oh.” After blinking several times Davy stood. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dazed, he turned to walk out onto the street. Looking across the way at the general store he saw Goodell leaning against his broom. Davy stopped when he saw the man talking to Goodell, a large fellow whose tongue was deeply split like a serpent, Captain Stasney.

***

When David awoke the next morning, he only had blurred memories of his late-night visit to the tavern where Abner and William had tried to talk him back into going to Texas. He looked around to see that Elizabeth already was busy with farm work. He was relieved. After dressing he grubbed around the kitchen for a cold breakfast. When he finished David decided to go to Kimery store for another bottle of whiskey. When he walked in the door he caught the harsh glare of Tyson’s icy blue eyes. Using his best bluff, David marched to the counter, smiled and asked for a bottle of Kimery store’s best whiskey.
Tyson stiffened and crossed his arms as he stared into David’s face. “Matilda told me what happened.”
“Oh. She told you I decided to stay on the farm?”
“No, she told me you hit her.”
“It was more of a tap on her cheek than a hit.” David laughed, trying to make light of the incident.
“I’ve heard stories of how your father beat you,” Tyson said. “I’m sorry for it, but that doesn’t mean you got the right to strike your daughter. I know I’m just a nobody who runs a store, and you’re a congressman, but I tell you, if you hit that girl again I swear—“
“I’m not goin’ to hit nobody.”
“Matilda has me to stand up for her now.”
“And I appreciate it,” David said. “Matilda’s a good girl.”
“She deserved better than she got.”
“Of course, she does.”
After a long pause Tyson breathed out and put his hands on the counter. “Now what did you want?”
David did not want to repeat that he wanted whiskey. That would prove to Tyson that he was just an old drunk who beat his children. “I promised my nephew William some things, as part of his inheritance from his grandpa. You see, Mister Patton’s will is tied up in court—“
“Yes, Matilda told me.”
After a few minutes of examining rifles and squinting down their sights David selected what he considered to be the best one. William was a good boy who had lost his father. He deserved the best rifle David could find. A bundle of goods covered the counter, and David was feeling expansive, hoping his spending spree had somewhat impressed the storekeeper.
“Is that all?”
Looking around, David spotted a table filled with leather-bound Bibles. He walked over and picked up the largest. He flipped through it. “This looks nice. Pretty pictures.”
“The words aren’t bad either,” Tyson said as he walked over. “These Bibles came from a Philadelphia publisher.” He took it from David and opened it to the middle and pointed. “See, here are pages for births, deaths and marriages.”
“Polly had one of these,” he said. “My daughter Margaret’s got it now. I think. She got married a couple of years ago. And Elizabeth has a Bible from her first marriage. We jest added our children to the records page.”
“Do you want to buy one?”
“Oh.” David’s eyes widened. “Not today. I got so much over there now I don’t know how I’m going to git it home. Maybe when one of the children gits married.”
“Very well.” Tyson walked back to the counter. “I’ll run up your bill.”
David paid for the rifle and gear and stalked out of the store, not knowing if he had made a better impression on Tyson or not. He had never had this problem before. Just beaming from ear to ear and cracking a joke had always been enough to win anyone over, but not Tyson. He knew too much.
Back at Elizabeth’s farm, he stored the rifle and gear in the barn and headed toward the cabin, stopping short when he saw Sissy sweeping the porch. He wondered how she would ever find a husband, dressed in black as though she were a widow.
“Sissy?” he said as he walked up.
“Yes, Pa?” She stopped sweeping to look at him.
“I’m sorry ma’s death hit you so hard. I don’t know if I ever said anythin’ about it to you but I should have. Of all her grandchildren I really think she liked you best. You were the most like her. I can say that for sure.”
“All right.”
“It’s jest I had to campaign, you know?”
“I know.” She resumed sweeping.
“You see, they had these debates set up for Adam Huntsman and me.”
“I understand, Pa.”
“Good.” He turned to leave.
“Poor child,” she said. “Poor child, your grandma’s dead.”
David stopped and turned. “Sissy, if I didn’t go campaignin’, ma would still be dead.”
“I know.”
“Sissy, I worry about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” Her strokes became rougher against the wooden planks.
“Yes, I do. I’m your pa.”
“You didn’t worry about me when grandma died.”
“I told you.” He tried to control the exasperation in his voice. Perhaps if he patted her shoulder, he thought. A gentle touch always seemed to work before. David noticed Sissy stiffened as he put his hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.” She stepped away, sweeping faster, her eyes down. “You can’t always have things your way, Pa. If you want to run off and make—make folks say crazy things, then—then you gotta listen to ‘em.”
“I said I was stayin’ home,” David said. “We can be a family ag’in, but you gotta try too.”
Turning to look at him, Sissy replied, “You want the family ‘cause you lost the election.” Pausing, she clinched her jaw. “Nobody else wants you, so now you want us.”

***

Dave took the phone from Miriam and spoke in his best public relations voice. On the other end, Sara Beth was friendly but cautious. He explained why information in the Bible was so important to his father. When she hesitated, Dave continued with nervous speed.
“You don’t have to make a decision now. I can fly up tomorrow, and we can talk about it some more.” When she did not respond, he added, “I can meet you at a restaurant or some other public place. And bring family and friends if you wish. I don’t want you to be afraid or anything.”
“Oh no,” she said. “That’s not a problem. I just couldn’t take in all of this at once. It’s rather overwhelming. But you can come to my house.”
Sara Beth gave him directions, and after he hung up he thanked Miriam and left her shop to drive back to Gainesville. He thought of how he was going to explain another delay to Tiffany. Back home he called his Waco number, and when she answered the phone Tiffany sounded very happy which relieved him. Then he heard laughter in the background, the familiar laughter of his sons.
“Hi, Dave,” she said.
“Are Mark and Joe there?”
“Yes, and their mother.”
The back of Dave’s neck burned. For the past year he had kept his sons and their mother away from Tiffany. Linda knew all his family secrets. Even the boys had heard talk of Allan, and they were likely to say anything. Linda did a good job of teaching them to be honest and open.
“How did that happen?” Dave bit his lip as he stumbled over the words.
“I invited them. Do you want to say hello?”
Before he could say anything he heard the voice of his youngest, Mark. “Hi, Dad. When are you coming home?”
“A few more days. I have to fly to Virginia tomorrow.”
“Virginia? How come?”
“It’s a long story, Mark. It’s to help grandpa.”
“Okay.” He paused to grunt and jab at his brother. “No! I’m not done!” The receiver fumbled around. “Mom! Joe took the phone out of my hand again!”
“Hi, Dad!” the older boy said.
“Joe, you know what I’ve told you about waiting your turn for the phone.”
“Yeah, yeah, be nice to your brother because when I grow up I’ll want a friend, blah, blah, blah. When are we going camping?”
“Real soon. I promise.” He paused. “Only reason I broke it off this time was because of the funeral.”
“Yeah, mom told us uncle crazy got killed.”
“His name was Allan, son.”
“Can we take Tiffany camping with us?” Joe asked. “She’s neat. She’s not afraid of bugs like mom is.”
“Sure, if she wants.” Suddenly he heard a scream.
“Mom! Mark pulled my hair!”
The phone dropped with a thud.
“Well, you took the phone from me!” the younger boy yelled.
“Now that’s enough of that squabbling,” Linda lectured in the background.
“I’m back,” Tiffany said, picking up the receiver.
“I’m sorry the boys are fighting.”
“Why apologize? They’re brothers. Brothers do that.”
“Yeah, they do.” Dave paused. “I have to fly to Roanoke tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Allan stole the family Bible and sold it in Dallas,” he explained. “A woman in Roanoke bought it. Dad needs the information in it to get Social Security.”
“I understand.”
“My dad hadn’t bothered with Social Security before because he hadn’t needed it.”
“Yes, Linda’s told me all about your dad.” Tiffany paused. “Linda is a very sweet person.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She filled in a lot of gaps for me,” she said. “In a good way.”
“In a good way?”
“In a good way.” In a measured voice, Tiffany added, “Dave, you should have known you didn’t have to hide all that stuff from me.”