The Train of Small Mercies by David Rowell Page B

“This is heaven , man,” Edwin said. Slowly he drifted around the perimeter of the pool. “Feel that beautiful water.”
    â€œIt feels good, man,” Ted said. “Come on in, Lolly.”
    â€œLet me get a picture of King Neptune first,” she said. Edwin waded over to her and offered two peace signs, his eyes tiny slits in the sunlight.
    â€œWhat was that yelling?” Georgia called out. She let the screen door slam harder than she meant to, then put a finger to her lips as an apology. She was wearing a white bikini that featured three large silver rings, one that connected the fabric over her breastbone, and the other two joining the fabric at each hip. She walked toward them a little sheepishly, smiling but avoiding their gazes. Even Lolly couldn’t help staring so unabashedly. Georgia’s full breasts swung with the precision of windshield wipers, and the curve of her waist made both Edwin and Lolly think of a guitar. Georgia was used to being stared at like this, and when she went swimming in public she was relieved when the first seconds of stunned silence were over. She let out a small laugh, as if everyone was so silly, and went up the ladder and slid in before anyone had time to recover.
    After she swam to one side, Edwin turned his gaze from her and said to Lolly, “Everyone in, Lol.” Ted, Georgia, and Edwin watched as Lolly stood atop the little platform. Before she could jump, she saw the faces of the Pyle twins, Norma and Nadine, pressed against the chain-link fence.
    â€œHey, you two,” she called out.
    â€œHi,” they said in unison. “When did you get a pool?” Norma asked.
    â€œWe just got it,” Lolly said. She could feel Edwin trying to get her attention, and she knew what he was thinking: Don’t invite them over. “We’ll have to have you over for a swim sometime.”
    â€œToday?” Norma asked.
    â€œNot today, honey,” Lolly said. “Today we have company.”
    Georgia waved at the girls, and the girls eagerly returned it.
    â€œSo we’ll see you later,” Edwin said. But the girls didn’t move.
    â€œIt’s fine, Ed,” Lolly said, and then made her splash, which, as far as she could tell, was the biggest one all day.

Washington
    A fter a quick run-through of the Botanic Garden, Maeve took a bus to Union Station. The train was scheduled to arrive around four-thirty, but even now, inside the cavernous hall, underneath a shimmering, barrel-shaped ceiling that caused Maeve to fall into a neck-craning waggle, there was a steady line of people without luggage weaving in and out between a multitude of police officers and scampering down a flight of stairs; after recovering from her awe of the place, she quickly followed. Eventually the line came to a halt, and after a few minutes she tapped the man in front of her on the shoulder; he had an earplug connected to his transistor radio and took a moment to realize.
    â€œThis is the line to see the funeral train, is it?” Maeve asked.
    â€œI hope so,” said the man. He chomped an unlit cigar.
    The line took a few steps forward and stopped again. Maeve fished out a postcard she had gotten that morning—of a Venus flytrap said to be one of the biggest in the world—to send to her sisters. She had never sent a postcard before and stared at the empty white space on the back with trepidation. In the picture the plant’s “teeth” were as long as nails and terrifying, its “mouth” deep crimson inside and sprung open like a bear trap. Seeing Mr. Hinton each morning had made her think of her father more frequently than usual that week, and she was remembering how he had encouraged her to write her stories down. Maeve gripped her pen until she could feel it press against the bones of her fingers. Finally she wrote: “I was at the U.S. Botanic Garden this morning—quite lovely!—until this horrid