Hudson, who had just done the same thing to his bacon burger, nodded toward his discarded bun. “Great minds think alike,” he said.

  “More like twisted minds,” Caddie replied, but she smiled.

  The conversation died as they both ate. Hudson was surprised at how hungry he was, then realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast that morning. The burger was good, and after half of it, he felt much better. “Isn’t it funny how food makes things seem a little less dire?” he remarked.

  “Is my dad really gay?”

  Hudson, surprised at the unexpected response to his comment, looked at Caddie in astonishment. She bit the end off a french fry. “Is he really gay?” she repeated. “Or was this a one-time thing?”

  Hudson set his fork down and wiped his hands on a napkin, stalling for time. He wasn’t sure how—or if—to answer the question. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

  “But what do you think?” Caddie pressed. “Based on your years of gaiety, I mean.”

  “My expert opinion?” said Hudson. Caddie paused, watching his face. “I think you should ask him,” Hudson finished.

  “I think he left my mom because he knew,” Caddie said.

  “Has she said that?”

  “She’s never said much about it at all,” said Caddie. “I don’t think she really knows why he did it.”

  “There could be a lot of reasons,” Hudson said. “His being gay—if he is—is just one possibility.”

  Caddie cut another piece from her burger. “I just don’t see how he could get to be so old and not know it.”

  “It happens,” Hudson said. “Not everyone knows who they are right away.”

  “When did you know?”

  “A long time ago. When I was pretty young.”

  “But you didn’t realize he had a thing for you,” Caddie said. “I had to tell you.”

  She’d make one hell of an attorney, Hudson thought. “No, I didn’t know,” he affirmed.

  “But once you found out, you went for it,” Caddie continued.

  Hudson felt himself blushing. “I don’t know if that’s the way I would put it,” he said, annoyed that he sounded so defensive.

  “But you like him,” said Caddie.

  Hudson leaned forward. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  Caddie looked down. “I just want to know if I’m going to lose him again,” she said softly.

  Then Hudson understood. It all made sense—the anger, the accusations, all of it. As far as Caddie was concerned, she was still seven years old. Her feelings for her father had stopped there, and only recently had she begun to let them grow again. Now she saw something coming that she feared would hurt her all over again.

  He felt sorry for her. All this time he’d thought she was an angry young woman when really she was a child playing dress-up. She had no reason to believe that her father wouldn’t disappoint her, which was why she was constantly looking for evidence that he was.

  “Whatever happens, he’s not going to leave you,” Hudson assured her.

  “How do you know that?” she said angrily. “How do you know anything about what he’ll do?”

  Her voice had attracted the attention of the next table. The teenagers stared at Caddie and Hudson, clearly wondering what their relationship was. For a moment, Hudson had the urge to let them know that he wasn’t involved romantically with her, in case they thought he was some kind of pervert. Then he realized they were all assuming he was her father, and that, curiously, made him feel worse.

  “Whatever—whoever—your father turns out to be,” he said, “he’s still your father.”

  “Well, he certainly has a great track record being that, doesn’t he?” Caddie retorted.

  He didn’t know what to say. Gone was the mature Caddie of not five minutes ago, replaced by the furious little girl. He wanted to comfort her, but she seemed intent on being miserable. He tried to remember that she’d almost lost her father today and that he needed to treat her gently.

  “Fuck!” Caddie exclaimed, earning her glances from not only the table beside them but tables all around. Oblivious, she looked at Hudson. “Why do I get like this?” she asked. “Why can’t I just be ...”

  “Normal?” Hudson said. “That’s exactly what you are being.”

  Caddie snorted. “According to what definition?” she said.

  “The real one,” said Hudson. “The one that says it’s okay to be afraid, and to not have the answers, and to ... love people ... even when they might hurt you.”

  Caddie shook her head. “That’s not normal,” she said. “That’s suicidal.”

  “Give it a chance,” said Hudson. “Give yourself a chance.”

  Caddie threw her head back and groaned. “Ohhh,” she growled. She looked at him. “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “I don’t think I know how.”

  “Nobody knows how,” said Hudson. “You just do it.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “My father,” Caddie explained. “Whether or not you like him.”

  “Of course I like him,” Hudson said.

  “Don’t be dim,” said Caddie. “You know what I’m asking. If he wants you to stay around, will you?”

  “What would you think if I did?” he countered.

  “I asked you first,” she said.

  Hudson watched her for a moment. She really wants to know, he thought. But what answer did she want to hear? Which one would make her feel better and which would only add to her worry? He wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty made his answer even harder to give.

  “I don’t know,” he said truthfully.

  He waited for her response, expecting, at the very least, to be accused of being a liar. Instead, Caddie smiled at him. “I know how that goes,” she said.

  Hudson pushed his plate away. “What do you say we get out of here?” he suggested.

  He caught the attention of their waitress, who came over, again ignoring the group clamoring for her services. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked. “How about some pants-busting dessert?”

  Hudson handed her his credit card. “I think we’ve had enough,” he said.

  The girl glanced at the teenagers. “You and me both,” she said as she walked away.

  After Hudson had signed the slip she brought back, he and Caddie walked out into the fading afternoon light. It was half past six. The air had a slight chill, and the crowds of tourists were thinning as they returned to hotels and homes.

  “Come on,” Hudson said, an idea forming in his mind.

  “Where are we going?” Caddie asked as he walked down the sidewalk.

  He didn’t answer, ducking into the first gift shop he saw. Caddie, following him inside, looked at the shelves of tacky merchandise with bemused interest, watching him as he scanned the shop.

  “Ah,” he said, spying something of interest. “This might work.” He went to a display of sweatshirts and picked one up. Unfolding it, he held it out for Caddie’s inspection.

  “Property of the Cannery Row Sardine Packing Team?” she said. “You’re kidding.”

  “What size are you?” Hudson asked, ignoring her. “Medium, I think.” He handed her a shirt. “And we’ll get a large one for your father.”

  “This is so queer,” Caddie said, holding the sweatshirt up to her chest.

  “You’d expect anything else?” Hudson replied. “Trust me, your father will think it’s great.” He paused, wishing he hadn’t said that. What if Caddie thought he was saying he knew more about Ben that she did?

  “He does like that book,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Then she pointed to some bumper stickers that were hanging nearby. “What about that?” she suggested, singling out one that read REAL DIVERS GO DOWN. “Too much?”

  “We’ll put it on the Volvo,” Hudson said, picking it up. “Ten bucks says he doesn’t notice it for at least a month.”

  Caddie held out her hand. “Make it twenty,” she said. “And I say two months.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Ben pulled the sweatshirt over his head, only too happy to get rid of the gown, which was scratchy and, after nine hours in the chamber, something he hoped never to see again in his lifetime. Dressed in his own jeans, which Caddie and Hudson had brought back to the station with them, he felt almost human. He was stiff from being confined for so long, but the fact that he was walking out of the fire station more than made up for it.

  “Promise me you’ll go to the hospital tomorrow, Doc.”

  Ben grunted.

  “I’m serious,” Adam said. “You’re through the worst of this, but you know as well as I do that there can be damage we don’t see.”

  “He’ll go,” Caddie assured the fireman.

  “The Cannery Row Sardine Packing Team?” Ben said, finally noticing the front of his shirt. “Is there really such a thing?”

  “He’s back to himself, all right,” Leo remarked.

  Ben shook Leo’s hand, then Adam’s. “It seems inadequate to say thank you,” he said. “But thank you.”

  “Caddie did the hard part,” Leo said. “We just carried the ball over the line.”

  Ben put his arm around Caddie and pulled her close. “My hero,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

  It was nearly two o’clock. The streets were silent as Ben, Hudson, and Caddie walked to Hudson’s car. The moon, haloed in silver, turned everything it touched white. Ben looked up at it as he waited for Hudson to unlock the doors. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” he asked.

  Hudson looked at Caddie as he opened the doors. “Next he’s going to tell us about the white light and the angels,” he joked.

  Ben got into the car, sliding the seat belt into its lock. “Go ahead,” he told Hudson and Caddie, “make fun. But see if I tell you what heaven looks like.”

  “If I have anything to say about it, it looks like the inside of Justin Timberlake’s bedroom,” Caddie said.

  “Amen,” Hudson agreed, starting the car. “You must be exhausted,” he said as he pulled away.

  “Me?” Ben said. “Just the opposite. There was so much oxygen in that chamber, I feel like I’ve slept for a week. What I really am is hungry. Too bad everything’s closed.”

  “I can make you something,” said Caddie from the backseat.

  Ben turned to look at her. “Really?” he asked.

  “Why does everybody think I’m useless?” Caddie said. “For your information, I do know how to cook. God.”

  Ben looked at Hudson, trying to decide if Caddie was really upset. Hudson looked at him and winked. Something had happened between the two of them, and Ben was curious to find out what it was. When he’d seen them standing outside the chamber porthole wearing identical sweatshirts, he’d at first thought he was hallucinating from the excess oxygen they were using to flush the nitrogen from his system. They’d looked like a couple of tourists, waving at him and grinning inanely. Now we’re a trio, he thought, looking down at his matching shirt.

  His house had never seemed so welcoming as it did when he walked through the front door ten minutes later. Even the dust on the furniture was a welcome sight, reminding him that he indeed lived there. He stood for a moment in the foyer, as if seeing everything for the first time.

  “What do you want to eat?” Caddie called out. She was in the kitchen, looking in the refrigerator. She rummaged around. “We have leftover Thai, steaks, and something that looks like it used to be chicken.”

  “Steak sounds good,” Ben said, walking into the kitchen. “Do you want help?”

  “Maybe if you could cook I would,” Caddie answered. “Why don’t you go sit down.”

  “I’ve been sitting for nine hours,” Ben said. “And I think I can cook pretty well, thank you. Eggs, anyway.”

  Hudson and Caddie exchanged glances.

  “What?” said Ben. “You both have eaten my eggs.”

  “We were being nice,” Hudson said, patting Ben on the back. “You do make good coffee, though,” he added.

  Ben snorted. He pulled out a chair and sat at the table. He watched as Caddie unwrapped the steaks and seasoned them with salt and pepper. As with the house, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time as well. “Did you learn this from your mother?” he asked.

  “From Francesca,” Caddie said. “The housekeeper,” she added when Ben didn’t respond. “Mom hasn’t cooked in years.”

  “Peas or green beans?” Hudson said. He was standing at one of the cupboards, holding up two cans.

  “Green beans,” Caddie and Ben said simultaneously.

  Hudson, putting the peas away, looked at Caddie. “Something else you have in common,” he said.

  “Why do I feel like I’m somehow being conspired against?” Ben asked.

  “Maybe you’re still bent,” Caddie suggested, putting the first steak into the heated pan.

  An hour later, with dinner finished, Ben made a halfhearted show of offering to help with the dishes. Caddie and Hudson, ignoring him, simply put everything into the sink. It was now after three, and Ben could see that Caddie was exhausted. Hudson, too, had the look of someone who badly needed to get to bed.

  “I think I’ll turn in,” he said, knowing neither of them would do likewise if they thought he was going to remain awake.

  Caddie came to him, hesitating only a moment before hugging him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He patted her back. “I’m not,” he said. “So don’t you be either.”

  She let go and headed for the hall. “See you tomorrow,” she said, reaching out and touching Hudson’s shoulder.

  “It already is tomorrow,” Hudson said to Ben as Caddie climbed the stairs. “I should be getting home.”

  “Or you could stay,” Ben suggested.

  Hudson tilted his head. “Or I could stay,” he repeated.

  Ben looked at him. The feeling of fear was once again coming over him, the memory of their unfinished conversation of the previous morning replaying in his mind. He was reminded, again, that he didn’t know what the other night had meant—meant now—to Hudson.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” he said finally.

  “You aren’t alone,” Hudson reminded him, casting his eyes toward the ceiling and Caddie’s room.

  Why is he making this so hard? Ben wondered. Unless he doesn’t want to stay. He looked down at the table, where his hands were worrying the remnants of a napkin.

  “I’ll stay,” Hudson said, taking the shredded paper from Ben’s hands. Ben looked up at him. “But only if it’s because you want me here.”

  “I do,” Ben told him. “I do want you. Here. With me.”

  “Then I’ll stay,” Hudson said. “Come on.”

  He took Ben’s hand and led him out of the kitchen, shutting off the light behind them. Up the stairs they went, and into Ben’s room. Hudson excused himself and went to the bathroom while Ben undressed. Standing in his shorts, he was suddenly very self-conscious. Should he put something else on? What was Hudson expecting? Their only other time together had been so sudden, so unplanned, that he hadn’t had time to worry about such things. Now he was afraid of looking foolish. Finally he pulled on a T-shirt and sat, uneasily, on the edge of the bed.

  “Your turn,” Hudson said, opening the door and coming in. “I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed a toothbrush. I assumed yours was the blue one. If it isn’t, don’t tell Caddie. We’re finally on speaking terms.”

  “It’s the blue one,” Ben said. He was amazed that Hudson could be so casual about their situation. He seemed relaxed, whereas he himself was thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. He envied Hudson this ability, wondered if it was something he would ever possess. In the meantime, he needed to pee.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, hurrying from the room.

  In the bathroom he picked up his toothbrush and looked at it. The bristles were wet. He touched them, thinking, He cleaned his teeth with it. He wasn’t upset by this in the least, just mystified that something so mundane could carry so much meaning for him. These simple daily acts—the brushing of teeth, the sharing of a bed, the turning off of lights—had never seemed as wonderful to him as they did right now. Wonderful and terrible. He looked for meaning in them and found something so great, so filled with the possibility of joy, that he couldn’t comprehend it.

  He brushed his teeth quickly, used the toilet, then returned to the bedroom. Hudson was already under the covers. He wore no T-shirt, his bare skin glowing in the light of the lamp and his hands rested on top of the quilt. “You really need to pull the bed away from the wall,” he said. “Or are you afraid of falling out?”

  Ben peeled his T-shirt off. He didn’t know why, except that Hudson had. Nervously, he lifted the edge of the quilt, wondering if Hudson still had his shorts on and if he should remove his own. When he saw the flash of white cotton, he relaxed somewhat. At least you got that right, he thought, as if he were being scored on his performance.

  “This mattress isn’t so hot, either,” Hudson said as the springs made their usual protest against being asked to carry any weight. “How old is it?”

  “It was here when I bought the place,” Ben said. “I never thought to replace it.”

  Hudson groaned. “You’re something else,” he said.

  Ben, leaning back against the pillows, pulled the covers up to his waist. “I guess I could get a new one,” he said.

  Hudson reached over and ran his hand through Ben’s hair. “One thing at a time,” he said.

  Ben very badly wanted to ask him if he was going to be around long enough to make it worth getting a bed. He wanted to ask lots of things. But now, lying beside Hudson, he couldn’t find the words. All he could do was take Hudson’s hand and hold it, saying nothing, until Hudson spoke again. “One thing at a time,” he said again.

  He leaned over, turning Ben’s face toward him and kissing him. “I’m going to sleep now,” he said. “All right?”