The Late Child by Larry McMurtry Page A

had a true friend in her hour of need. That’s more than some people get.”
    â€œMore than a true friend, Neddie,” Harmony corrected. “Pepper was the love of Laurie’s life. She died in the bed they were happy in—that’s what the letter said.”
    â€œI can read,” Neddie said. “If she was a girlfriend, so much the better, I guess.”
    â€œIt says they shared it happily, that’s good,” Harmony said. “Pepper was the love of Laurie’s life—that’s a big thing to say.
    â€œIs Dick the love of yours?” she asked, seeing that the phrase hadn’t quite registered on her sister.
    â€œNo,” Neddie said. “I like Dick and I respect him. But I was never in love with him.”
    â€œNot ever?” Harmony asked, shocked.
    Harmony tried to figure out what that could possibly mean, in terms of her sister’s life. She had lived with a man for more than thirty years, but had never been in love with him? Of course, she herself had frequently brought men home without being in love with them—Jimmy Bangor was a recent example—but she didn’t keep them around for thirty years.
    â€œNeddie, that’s sad—isn’t it?” Harmony said.
    â€œNot everybody gets everything, Sis,” Neddie said. “I was in love with Rusty, though. I guess I still am. He just won’t do nothing about it.”
    â€œWho’s Rusty?” Harmony asked.
    â€œDick’s baby brother,” Neddie said. “Rusty’s a whole lot cuter than Dick. He’s even got a sense of humor. Dick Haley wouldn’t know a joke if one clobbered him.”
    â€œWhere does Rusty live?” Harmony asked, trying to remember if she had ever known Rusty. So far her memory drew a blank.
    â€œDown the road about two miles,” Neddie said. “Rusty’s a big help to me anyway. I go see him two or three times a day.”
    â€œSo maybe he’s kind of the love of your life,” Harmony said.
    â€œIf he ain’t then I didn’t get to have no love of my life,” Neddie said.
    â€œNeddie, you’re not old,” Harmony said. “You could still have a love of your life.”
    â€œIn Tarwater, Oklahoma?” Neddie said. “At my age?”
    â€œSomebody could show up and surprise you,” Harmony said. For some reason it had become important to her to at least keep the hope that her sister Neddie would get to have a love of her life, even if it was only her husband’s brother, Rusty Haley.
    â€œWho was the love of yours?” Neddie asked—they both saw Pat coming down the sidewalk with a pitcher in her hand, and three glasses.
    â€œDidier, he died when I was eighteen,” Harmony said, without hesitation.
    â€œSeems like it’s been kind of a long drought, in the love-of-your-life department, for both of us,” Neddie said. “Let’s ask Pat. She gets a new love of her life every week or so.”
    â€œWhy are you two sitting in this hot car?” Pat asked, getting in the back seat. “I brought some martinis—if you’re going to be hot you might as well be drunk.”
    â€œOkay, Pat, come clean,” Neddie said, accepting a martini. “Who was the love of your life?”
    â€œMind your own business, Neddie,” Pat said. “Is that what you two have been doing out here all this time? Talking about sex?”
    â€œNobody said a word about sex, Pat,” Harmony pointed out. “You’re the first person even to mention the word.”
    â€œHarmony, are you calling me a slut, or what?” Pat asked. “Get to the point. Just because I’m drunk don’t mean I’ll stand for much name-calling.”
    â€œWho was the love of your life, that’s all we want to know,” Neddie asked. “I’ve already confessed that Rusty Haley is mine, so who’s yours?”
    â€œRusty’s more like the lust