Staring at this, Reuben thought: There was never such a thing in my mother's house. "Ben," he said, and turned to his brother in sudden need—"Ben, I'm only now understanding."
"Understanding, Ru?"
"We're alone. There's nothing. Only you and me."
It came to Ben belatedly, lying still under the dark canopy, the candle out, that once again neither he nor Reuben had prayed. For his own part he had not even thought of it, being too concerned with finding some word of comfort for Reuben in that moment of desolate comprehension. Now, since there was some possibility that the boy had fallen asleep, he dared not move.
He thought of Jesse Plum—surely a drinking companion must have steered the old man away to sleep it off in some tolerant kennel.
"The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
She might have been there in the room.
Ben faced up to the words for the first time, retreated incredulously, was compelled to return, wondering if Reuben could have understood them as he did now. In effect his grandmother had said it was right and fitting that their father (her son) should die.
Ben thought: Fanatic.... His father had used that term now and then, but indecisively, defining it but giving Ben the impression that a fanatic was a person you weren't likely to meet. The word was clarified for Joseph Cory's son now that it owned a face.