The Qualities of Wood by Mary Vensel White Page A

around.’
    â€˜It’s not the forest ,’ she said, ‘and I’m not a child.’
    â€˜Alright, alright.’ Nowell put his hands up in surrender. ‘What happened with the sheriff?’
    â€˜Mrs Brodie wanted to see the spot where they found her. I talked to Mr Stokes while they went back.’
    â€˜Mr Stokes?’
    â€˜You remember, our neighbor?’
    Nowell nodded. ‘Did he say anything?’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜The sheriff.’
    â€˜About what?’ she asked.
    â€˜I don’t know, whether they’d be coming back. I thought that was important to you, his future contacts.’
    â€˜I think it’s over now,’ she said.
    Nowell took a drink from a bottle of juice and it dribbled down the side of his mouth. He cursed and swiped his hand across his face, then pushed past her into his study. Sometimes, he just seemed to shut down, to leave the conversation without any notice. His moods fluctuated without warning. An artistic temperament, she told herself.
    She thought about what Mr Stokes said about Lonnie, about him being an outdoorsman. Nowell and Lonnie were almost the same height and both had the wide brown eyes of their mother. Certain parts of their faces were similar: the curve of the jawbone, the high square forehead, and they had the same shade of dark brown hair. With beards, they looked less alike. Nowell’s had a reddish hue while Lonnie’s matched his hair exactly, dark and thick. And Lonnie was heavier than Nowell, more muscular from physical work and fleshier because of his appetites.
    Vivian often felt sorry for Lonnie. He couldn’t seem to get anything right in his life and he continually spurned the efforts of the one person who had always tried to protect him, Nowell. Lonnie called his brother ‘Number One,’ because Nowell was born first, but also to imply that he was favored in the family. Sometimes Nowell wouldn’t hear from Lonnie for months at a time. He faded in and out of their lives.
    When Nowell was born, his father Sherman went to a bar and drank until he passed out. The bar was full of people whose loved ones were in the hospital, and Sherman’s news was rare and joyous. They plied him with scotch-and-sodas until his forehead hit the oak table. Sherman’s father-in-law came and took him home, and his hangover lasted until two days later, when he drove his wife and the squalling baby home. Nowell’s mother said that despite how lousy he felt, Sherman passed around cigars and toasted with seltzer water. She could put a favorable light on anything related to her husband or sons. Nowell would always say that he couldn’t picture his dad getting drunk like that, and Beverly would explain that he was too polite to refuse the drinks everyone sent over. She liked telling the story of Nowell’s birth. She and Sherman were in their mid-thirties when they started a family. After Nowell, Lonnie followed, thirteen months later. The story of Lonnie’s birth was mostly a litany of complaints about how late he was in coming, and how much Beverly had been suffering through the surprise pregnancy with her swollen ankles, sore back, and a heavy toddler.
    Sherman spent the early years of their marriage building his appliance repair business. He started out with a truck and a tool set and finished with a partner, twelve employees and a fleet of six vans. Nowell said that his father didn’t care that neither of his sons wanted to be involved with the business. Vivian suspected that from Nowell,Sherman expected greater things, and he didn’t think Lonnie capable. Because Sherman died suddenly of a heart attack earlier in the same year that she met Nowell, Vivian never met him.
    Lonnie had a certain wariness, like something freed from a trap. But he could also be reckless, with no regard for authority. The first time Vivian met Lonnie, he was unemployed and living with his mother again after a few