For half a second, coming up my lane with the sun behind it, it was him.
Phil got out slowly. His new boots were muddy to the ankles.
He walked across the yard and stopped beside the running board of the feed truck. He looked up at the cab. At the windshield. I knew he could see the gloves.
Then my brother took off his cap.
I had never in my life seen him take his cap off to ask for anything. Not for a loan. Not for a girl. Not at our mother’s bedside.
“Wade,” he said. “I need to ask you something.”
I wiped my hands on a rag.
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t know what I’m looking at out there.” His voice was steady. But it cost him. I could hear it cost him. “I know it’s bad. I don’t know how bad. And I don’t know what to do first. Would you come look at it?”
