Startled when he reached Nell at once, Lucius was shy and awkward, stammering remorse for the neglectful way he’d treated her over the years and his unhappiness about the happiness he’d thrown away. But since he’d lawman made this clear at their meeting in the cemetery, she remained silent, awaiting his explanation of why he had chosen this moment to call. finally, he told her about Rob.
“Oh Lucius, no!” she said. “Oh Rob! When I think how much you missed him all those years-oh Lucius, sweetheart, maybe he’s all right. Will you let me know?”
Overwhelmed by her warm concern, he said, “Nell? Will you marry me?”
Her silence scared him. “Nell?”
“Goodness,” she murmured. “What a strange time to propose.” She asked coolly if he had been drinking. He set his glass down, then denied this, but another silence made it evident that she knew better. He heard a soft clearing of the throat in preparation for some final rejection that would be unbearable. To head that off, he entreated her all in a rush, “I’ve always loved you, Nell, you know that. We could be so happy-”
Gently she cut him off. “Listen to me. Thank you. But since your father died, you’ve never permitted yourself happiness, so how could we be happy? It wouldn’t work.”
He said, “It’s quite impossible, I agree.” Then he said, “Come on, Nell. Marry me anyway.”
He heard her laugh a little as he’d intended. But after a moment, she said that while she was glad she’d seen him after so long and would always consider him her oldest and best friend, she did not think they should meet again anytime soon.
In panic, he pretended she was testing him although in his heart he knew that she was not. “Please, Nell, listen, don’t hang up. I mean it. I’m asking you to marry. Isn’t that what you wanted?” She had put the phone down.
Across the lobby, mounted tarpon leapt in painful arcs on the dark wood walls. The ocean pearliness on the Triassic scales of these huge armored herring had faded to a dirtied yellow and the rigid jaws, stretched forever in pursuit of that fatal lure, were shrouded in the ghostly grays of spiderwebs.
At Caxambas, exhausted, he lay awake most of the night. He thought about his clumsy proposal, his slurred voice, the hurtful stupidity of saying, Isn’t that what you wanted? He would call back and apologize in the morning. But when morning came, his resolve had unraveled. He sat on the cot edge a long while before coming to and dragging on the other sock. He decided that a discreet interval must pass before he courted his true love again. He must be patient, then draw near carefully so as not to spoil their romantic reunion. Sincerely moved by that prospect, he was also inadmissibly relieved, though he would not face this until weeks later when he realized she was truly gone and lost forever.
At daybreak he placed the brass urn in a box together with the humble collection of anonymous belt buckles and buttons. Before leaving, he added the manuscript of the biography. His decision to accept the loss of years of work had its seed in Rob’s confession, but only now did he behold it in the light, like a magic toad escaped from his own mouth. He felt no astonishment at his decision nor did he feel overwhelmed by failure-quite the contrary. Like the confrontation with the Daniels gang, it was oddly exhilarating.