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I just don'twant you to hide in here forever and not go."I knew the 'first day back' wouldn't be easy without my obliviousmother telling me, although I strongly suspected she didn't meanbecause I was an adult guy that had become a teenage girl and was nowtrying to put on a pair of tights for the first time ever."I'll leave you for a couple of minutes to get dressed and come andhelp you with your hair and stuff, if that'll be easier for today?"The idea of privacy sounded good to me. Well, the idea of being leftalone until everything went back to normal sounded good to me, but thatseemed like it would be impossible.Accepting that privacy and then getting help would be better thanguesswork, I nodded slowly, allowing my mother to leave the room.Although she had seemingly relented, I still didn't especially want tocross her, and so I returned to the tights with a view to getting theunwanted clothes on before she returned.Returning to the tights, I opted not to stand this time,. The undertaker was headed down the mountain as we came out. I managed to get his attention and he returned to relieve Father John of his burden. He said, "I thought something happened to you. I was going to get help. You were gone a lot longer than you said you would be."All I said was, "We had to do a lot of it blind because there was no one to hold the light." He knew I meant him and said nothing of his fearful exit.By the time we reached the cabin and the jeep, there were snowflakes in the air and the wind was blowing a gale. I had to drive very carefully down the mountain. The undertaker was balancing the wrapped body on his knees in the back. Father John had turned and was holding our precious cargo from the front seat. I was afraid that the wind would flip Father Juan from the grasp of the hands holding him.Maria had been waiting anxiously for our return from the mountain. We went in and got warm in Billy Bob's quarters. I gave him a brief description of the trouble we had.
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I just thought it was maybe his pay, his regular pay. But now, with what Owen had said, maybe I would have some money—and the house. I didn’t know if it was paid for or not. It was the house I’d been raised in. I was twenty-nine; so he’d had to have had the house longer than thirty years; maybe it was paid for.“He okay?” she said.“Define okay? The man’s a basket case and feeling abandoned. It is so freaking sad,” said Owen. She nodded.“I’m glad you brought him here to stay. He needs to have people around him at least till after the funeral,” said Abigail.“Yes, yes he does,” he said. “He gave us permission to take care of the legal stuff for him too. The house is old, but it might be free and clear. That’ll be good for him; he won’t have to be renting anymore, but he would have to move back here. I mean if he wants to live in that house.”“He might want to sell it,” she said.“That’s a possibility of course, but his kids are here. That might be the tipping point for him. It could also.

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