Searching for Caleb Read Free Page A

sorry."
       "Look here," he said. He searched a pocket and came up with something-a small brown photograph framed in gold. He leaned over to jab it in her face. "Don't you know him? Doesn't he look familiar in any way? Take your time. Don't be in a hurry to say no."
       Mrs. Tabor seemed a little startled by the picture, but it took her only a second to make up her mind. "I'm sorry," she said. Then she looked at Justine. "I don't understand. Is this important in some way?"
       "Well-" said Justine.
       "We've lost track of Caleb too, you see," her grandfather said. He shoved the photograph back in his pocket. He turned down the corners of his mouth in a bitter smile. "You must think we're very careless people."
       Mrs. Tabor did not smile back.
       "However it was no more our fault in this case than in Paul's; he left us."
       "Oh, what a pity," Mrs. Tabor said.
       "Our family is very close knit, a fine family, we have always stuck together, but I don't know, periodically some . . . explorer sets out on his own." He scowled suddenly at Justine. "The last time I saw Caleb was in nineteen twelve. I have never heard of him since."
       "Nineteen twelve!" Mrs. Tabor said. She sank back in her chair. Wheels seemed to be clicking in her head. When she spoke next her voice had become softer and sadder. "Mr. Peck, I'm so very sorry that I can't help you. I wish I could. Might I offer you some tea?"
       "How's that?" he said.
       "Tea, Grandfather."
       "Tea. Oh. Well . . ."
       This time when he looked at Justine he was handing the rest of the visit to her, and she straightened and clutched her carry-all. "Thank you, but I don't think so," she said. Phrases her mother had taught her thirty years ago came wisping back to her. "It's kind of you to . . . but we really must be ... however, I wonder if my grandfather might freshen up first? He just got off the train and he . . ."
       "Surely," said Mrs. Tabor. "Mr. Peck, may I show you the way?"
       She beckoned to him and he rose without question, either guessing at where she was leading him or no longer caring. He followed her through a polished door that swept open with a hushing sound across the carpet. He went down a short hall with his hands by his sides, like a child being sent to his room. When she pointed him toward another door he stepped through it and vanished, not looking around. Mrs. Tabor returned to the living room with careful, outward-turned steps.
       "That poor, poor man," she said.
       Justine would not answer.
       "And will you be in New York long?"
       "Just till we find a train home again."
       Mrs. Tabor stopped patting her pearls. "You mean you only came for this?"
       "Oh, we're used to it, we do it often," Justine said.
       "Often! You go looking for his brother often?"
       "Whenever we have some kind of lead," said Justine. "Some name or letter or something. We've been at this several years now. Grandfather takes it very seriously."
       "He'll never find him, of course," said Mrs. Tabor.
       Justine was silent.
       "Will he?"
       "Maybe he will."
       "But-nineteen twelve! I mean-"
       "Our family tends to live a long time," Justine said.
       "But even so! And of course, dear," she said, leaning forward suddenly, "it must be hard on you."
       "Oh no."
       "All that wandering around? I'd lose my mind. And he can't be so easy to travel with, his handicap and all. It must be a terrible burden for you."
       "I love him very much," said Justine.
       "Oh, well yes. Naturally!"
       But the mention of love had turned Mrs. Tabor breathless, and she seemed delighted to hear the bathroom door clicking open. "Well, now!" she said, turning to Justine's grandfather.
       He came into the room searching all his pockets, a sign he was preparing to leave a place. Justine rose and hoisted her straw bag. "Thank you, Mrs. Tabor," she said. "I'm sorry about your husband. I