When Isaac ran outside once again to play with the dog, Arthur stood from the table.

"I've gotta go chop us some more firewood," he said. "I've already got a nice pile of logs ready to split; shouldn't take me long."

"Arthur, wait," she said. "Why don't you sit with me and rest a while?"

He hesitated a moment. "Okay. You got some coffee ready?"

"Sure do," she said turning and handing him a mug. "Come sit."

He followed her, and they sat across from each other on the sofas in front of the fireplace. He took a swig from the mug but paused when he felt her take his other hand. He looked at her from over the rim of the mug and realized something was off. Instead of drinking her own coffee, she was focused on the floor with a glazed look in her eyes, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"You're trembling." He immediately set the mug on the side table. "What's goin' on, Eliza?"

"Arthur," she said taking a breath, the color draining slightly from her face, "there's somethin' I been needin' to talk to you about." She began stroking his hand with her thumb. "It's real hard: it's hard for me to tell you, and it's gonna be hard for you to hear. You're not gonna like it." Her eyes fluttered downward before looking back up at him. "But I promised to tell you the real state of things."

His eyes went wide for a moment. "Now I know you're not about to tell me that you're…" he said, motioning to her belly. "You told me years ago that you had the timing of our whole cycle thing all figured out!" He put his hand to his face. "Oh… I know we said we couldn't… Ah," he sighed and wagged his head, "but I was really hopin' not to put you through that again, hun."

Catching his meaning, she shook her head. "No, it's not that. In some ways, it's even harder. No, it's…it's about the son you already have."

His eyebrows came together. "What about him?"

"See, the truth is, he…"

He was unnerved by how quickly her eyes were filling. "Out with it, woman."

"He's not well," she said shakily. "He's not right, I mean. He goes weeks, even months without ever speaking. He hardly says a couple words, on a real good day."

He looked at her as if she had a third eye. "What the hell you talkin' about? He seems just fine—"

"I know he does when you see him, but that's not what he's like normally." She sniffed. "Doctor thought he was delayed in mind; but we realized he's really very smart, and as you know he can speak just fine. Speaks fine actually…only whenever you come round." She looked up into his eyes. "The minute you leave, he clams shut again like a quick-snap lock. I can't get him to say two words to me, or anyone for that matter." The quiet tears began rolling down. "Doctor said it's not like anything he's ever seen. He decided he's got the melancholia, real bad."

"Melancholia?" he said gruffly. "Hell, we all got that."

She shook her head. "It ain't like that, Arthur. It's not like a bad day or…feelin' sad. It's different. The doctor diagnosed him." She pressed a hand to her mouth as she looked into his eyes. "He's six years old, and the doctor diagnosed him."

Arthur felt seasick as she spoke. He peered at her. "If this is a ploy to get me to stay…"

"It isn't," she shook her head profusely. "You can speak to the doctor if you like. He comes by once a month to visit with him, but you can go into town and ask him." Her breathing came in agitated sobs as she looked down and said, "I don't know what to do, Arthur. I'm scared for him. I love him more than life, and I can't fix him, can't protect him."

His chest went tight as if he'd been held underwater too long. His gaze drifted past Eliza to nothing at all.

She took a deep breath, steadying her breathing once again.

Looking down, he ran a hand across his forehead. He pressed his fingers against his temple and shook his head. "I need a smoke."

Eliza watched as he stood and went outside. Once he'd left, she let her head fall into hands and brushed her hair back out of her face. She looked up again at the empty doorway and pressed her fingers to her mouth.

Arthur went around to the side of the house, leaning against the wall as he pulled out a cigarette. As he struck the match against his boot sole, he listened to the scratch and following whoosh of the flame. He lit his cigarette and shook the match before tossing it away. Holding the cigarette between his two fingers, he took a long pull on it before exhaling a cloud of smoke. He quickly returned it to his mouth for another couple of frantic puffs, hoping to hasten the small relief he knew it would bring.

He closed his eyes and felt the familiar spark of warmth fill his throat. He brought his thumb and forefinger up to his forehead, trying to massage away his burgeoning headache. He hung his head and let out a long, full sigh.

He looked up, and his eyes landed on Isaac playing in the grass with the pup and singing to himself. Ah, son, he thought with a grimace as he watched him.

Just like that an idea occurred to him, and before he realized it he was walking over to him.

"Hey, Isaac," he mumbled, rubbing his neck.

The child paused his singing and looked up at him with his big blues. "Yeah?"

"Would you wanna…come fishin' with me?"

"I've never been."

"Well, not to worry. I'll teach ya."

At that, his eyes lit up, and he jumped up like a flea on a rodent. "Mama!" he called. "We're goin' fishin'! Don't wait up! Be sure to watch Allie for me, please!"

"Well, hold on," Arthur said. "We need our equipment."

Eliza came through the front door, and Arthur asked her where the poles were.

"In the barn," she responded, and they all walked over. "Should be just inside the door, to the left, leaning against the wall," she said as they approached the barn door.

As Arthur rounded the corner, he hitched his next step. "Aw, shit," he said dropping to the floor and hurriedly scooting backwards. There in the corner stood a mean old skunk, thankfully still unawares.

He heard Eliza cackle to his left, and funnily enough, she sounded more grown up to him in that moment than she ever had. He heard himself join in her laughter out of relief. He got up to his feet, but remained crouched in case he needed a quick getaway.

Isaac had been so excited he'd gotten out in front of him, so he was closest to the unlikely predator. After Arthur's sudden and uncharacteristic exhibition, Isaac was looking at him instead, with his back towards the corner. He hadn't seen the skunk.

"Isaac, why don't you come back over this way?" Arthur tried to say calmly.

"Why? Don't we need to get—"

"No, don't! Don't turn around," Arthur said slowly. "You can turn around…after you come over here."

"Do as he says, baby," Eliza said through stifled cackles. "You can see what we see when you come over here."

Isaac scrunched his eyebrows and cocked his head at them, but made his way towards them nonetheless.

"'Atta boy," Arthur said, grabbing him when he finally neared him. He turned him around. "That's what was behind you."

Isaac's expression dropped flat. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

Eliza huffed a few laughs, and Arthur smiled.

"We got you over here, didn't we?" he said. He looked at the skunk. "He's a nasty lookin' son of a bitch too."

"Well, how are we going to get the poles?" Isaac asked. "I guess I could make a run for it…"

"No, no!" Eliza said as Arthur caught him by the arm. "Don't you dare!"

Arthur looked down at his son. "Take it from me, kid," he smirked. "Best not." He looked up at the skunk in the corner, who was still contentedly going about his own business. "We'll have to draw him out some other way," he whispered. "I'll set up some bait outside; that oughta do it."

Arthur threw together some odorous bait and watched as the skunk went for it. Before they knew it, they had their poles, and Arthur was mounting his horse.

Eliza lifted her son to him, her eyes just gliding over Arthur's until he said, "I'll take good care of him."

She nodded. "I know you will."

Arthur set off to the river he knew was a ways past the tree line.

When they got there, he brought out their poles and told Isaac to speak in only hushed tones.

"What are we going to use as bait?" Isaac asked.

"Night crawlers are best for this area."

"What are those?"

"Worms. We find the right patch of dirt, we won't have to dig deep."

"Dig?"

"Yeah, come on." Arthur took a few steps and disturbed the soil with the toe of his boot. "See how this earth is black and soft? It's perfect. Go on in there and find us a few juicy ones."

Isaac stood stock still. "I don't think mama would like it if I got very dirty…"

"Your mother? No," Arthur shook his head. "Can't think about her right now. You can't fish without gettin' dirty. Trust me. When we clean 'em there'll be guts and every other kinda thing. 'Sides. Gettin' dirty is what boys do. Go on."

Isaac knelt and stuck his small hands into the ground, his fingernails quickly caking with dirt. He looked up with a smile and said, "Got one."

"Well all right; let's see it then."

Before long Isaac had pulled out several night crawlers, and Arthur strung two of them onto their hooks.

"Now cast your line like this," Arthur said showing him when they were standing at the edge of the water. "Sorta like you're throwin' somethin' over your shoulder—real smooth. Ever thrown a lasso?"

"No, sir."

"No, you wouldn't have," Arthur smirked. "Guess that's another thing I'll have to show ya."

"Will you?" Isaac perked up.

"Shh. Don't wanna spook the fish. Sure I will. When you're a little older. " He watched as Isaac casted his line. "That's it. Now when you feel a little jiggle, don't panic. That just means a fish is nippin', tryin' to see what your bait is about. When feel a tug and see the line go tight and your pole dip, that means it's taken your bait in its mouth and pullin' away with it. You'll need to snap your pole back once and quick, then reel her in."

"Do you think the fish are hungry?"

"We'll soon find out. We missed the early morning bite, and the next best thing is just after sunset. But we ain't got that kinda time."

"I don't know about you, but I ain't got that kinda patience either," Isaac grumbled. "I don't wanna wait around 'til sunset."

Arthur chuckled. "Sorry to tell ya, kid, but you gotta have some amount of patience to catch fish."

"Why?"

"Well…it takes time. They gotta find your bait. Anything worthwhile…it don't come easy, Isaac."

"Okay," he grumbled.

Arthur listened to the way the creek's clear water bubbled and babbled. After several minutes of the two standing in silence, he glanced over and cleared his throat. "Hey, Isaac. You, uh… You ever…met your pa?"

Isaac shook his head. "No. But I know what he's like."

Arthur studied his son. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm. Mama says he's a true wild west cowboy; says he wears a wide-brimmed hat; says he's real tall…and that I get my handsome looks from him," he grinned up at his father, who smiled back at him. "I thought you might be him…" he said as he looked down and went back to fishing, "but you can't be."

Arthur was caught off guard. "Why you say that?"

"Because mama says my pa is a good man, but struggles inside with evil. That means bad. So you can't be him."

"Oh," Arthur managed with a raspy breath. "I see." He looked away and nodded. Looking back at him he said, "Does that mean you'd like for me to be your pa?"

Isaac thought for a moment. "No," he said. "Mm…maybe you could be someone kinda like a pa, but you're not my real pa. Not if my pa struggles with evil. My mama doesn't lie. And that would mean you're struggling with evil." He looked up into his face. "You're not like that, Arthur."

Arthur looked forward and swallowed.

"What about my mama?" Isaac asked.

"What about her?"

"Well, don't you like her?"

"Why would you ask me somethin' like that?" Arthur chuckled with a wheeze.

"Well, I don't know if you know, but you smile at each other a lot."

Arthur cocked his head and grumbled to himself, "Well, we don't always smile at each other."

"I see the way you look at each other. It's…different," Isaac said. "And I saw you tickle her once when you thought I wasn't looking."

Arthur looked at him with an agape, embarrassed grin and nodded to the side like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Ah," he chuffed, "Isaac…"

"Well, don't you? Even a little bit?"

Arthur dipped his chin, finding it hard to be pinned down by a six year-old. "Well, sure, I like her well enough. But it ain't—"

"Well, why don't you just marry her then, and then you could be my pa?"

Arthur immediately opened his mouth to protest, then realized it was just him and the boy. There was no need to insist coyness, no need to toe the line or feel he was toying cruelly with a woman's emotions no matter what he said.

He looked down at Isaac from the corner of his eyes. "Think she'd have me?"

Isaac looked up at him. "I told you. She loves you." Isaac looked back out at the water.

The corner of Arthur's mouth flicked up in the slightest grin. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Well, you best put that outta your head, Isaac—"

Just then, Isaac gasped. "I got one!" he whispered. "I think I got one, Arthur!"

"You feel a tug?"

"Yeah!"

"Reel her in! Reel that sucker in!" he said, smiling as he watched his son's excitement rise. Isaac anxiously spun the reel until he saw a fish flop close to shore.

"Don't stop!" Arthur almost laughed. "Keep goin', until it's all the way out of the water!"

"How'd it go?" Eliza said as the two of them approached the homestead on Arthur's horse. She had just been beating a rug on the front porch, and she stopped and wiped her hands as they pulled to a stop.

"Terrific," Arthur replied. "Kid's a natural. Caught one on the first try," he said as he dismounted and lowered Isaac down off the horse.

"You should've seen it, Mama! I caught a—well, look!" He pointed as Arthur pulled the fish out.

"Wow! Looks mighty tasty!" Eliza said. "We'll fry it up good tonight. How's that sound?"

"Yeah, as long as there's a body of water nearby, you won't have trouble finding food, with this one," Arthur said nodding to his son. "Good job, Isaac."

Isaac beamed up at him. "Thanks, Arthur," he said as the pup came running out of the house to him.

"Oh! She's been waitin' for ya!" Eliza smiled.

Isaac ran off to play with the pup.

Arthur scratched his neck as he walked over to Eliza and quietly said, "You ever tell him outright that I'm not his father?"

"No," she said, her expression falling. "No, I'd never lie to him like that. Why?"

He looked back at Isaac. He shook his head and walked past her into the house.