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nor Jeremy saw me.
    Jeremy motioned toward the pond and spoke softly. I strained to hear. “’member how we used to come down here, lay on the bank for a while, and then go wadin’ in that water? ’member how we used to fish?”
    Stacey turned so I saw the profile of his smile. “I remember, all right.”
    “And ’member that ole tree house I used to have, just up the ways a bit?”
    Stacey grinned. “Remember you wanted to build us one.”
    “Yeah, but ole Cassie, she wouldn’t hear of it. She always figured I was kinda crazy sleeping up in that tree—”
    “Well . . . you know Cassie—”
    “But she was right! I was crazy! I was sleeping up there when it was thunderin’ and lightnin’ and carryin’ on—”
    “Yeah, and you kept on sleepin’ up there—”
    “Till that lightnin’ strike hit that ole tree, I sure ’nough did.” The two of them laughed, remembering childhood. Then Jeremy sobered. “Them was good days, wasn’t they, Stacey?”
    “Yeah . . . they was,” Stacey conceded.
    “Sometimes . . . sometimes I wish they could come back. I mean . . . so’s we could still do them things . . . could still do ’em and folks wouldn’t mind.” He looked again at the pond. “I don’t know how come things can’t be like this all the time.”
    Stacey was silent for a moment, then said: “What you mean?”
    “Well . . . just us taking the time like this now . . . talking . . . like when we used to sit here and fish . . . .”
    “Well . . . that was some years back . . . .”
    “Yeah . . . I know, but . . .” His voice waned. “Stacey, ’bout my pa . . .”
    Stacey looked away from him. “You already said your words about your pa.”
    “Yeah, I know, but . . . he’s a hard man sometimes . . . and I—I just ain’t wanted y’all t’ take no offense. I mean . . . he just got his ways.”
    Stacey looked at him again but didn’t speak.
    “I . . . I know them ways don’t set well with some folks . . . colored folks in particular . . . but, well, Pa’s just Pa. He just set in them ways of his, and ain’t nothin’ to be done ’bout ’em. Him and me, we ain’t never much seen eye to eye, but Pa, he believe in his way. Can’t see no other. He done tried to make me see his way, too, but it just don’t make nosense to me, the way he look at things. Way he look at folks. He got himself a one-set mind, and it don’t change.”
    “What ’bout yours?”
    “Mine?” Jeremy’s voice and his face were openly frank as he said, “Well, to me . . . folks is just folks.” He leaned forward, his arms against the steering wheel. “I recollect tellin’ my pa that one time when he caught me down here playin’ with y’all.” He laughed. “He liked t’ wore me out.”
    Stacey smiled.
    Jeremy shook his head. “Pa, he been trying to make me see his way long’s I can ’member. I was more like my cousin, Stat, he’d be a proud man. He crazy ’bout him.” His arm hugged the wheel, and there was silence between them. Stacey didn’t say a word. Jeremy glanced at him, as if embarrassed by his confession, then looked again to the pond.
    “Course, now, don’t want you to be thinkin’ me and Pa buttin’ heads all the time. I mean, we ain’t much like you and your pa, but we have us our good times. Pa, he a mighty good hunter, and he done learned me good ’bout huntin’. Why, sometimes him and me, we go huntin’, be gone all the night, jus’ him and me. We bring us home a bagful ever’ time, and Pa, he be right proud ’cause I’m a good shot, and I set my sights on something and it don’t hardly get away from me.”
    Stacey confirmed with a nod that he understood the feeling Jeremy was talking about. “Used to hunt a lot these last few years with Papa ’fore I moved up to Jackson. Still like to hunt with him whenever I get a chance.”
    “Yeah . . . well, you and your pa, even when he was off