“It’s funny,” she said quietly, “but I don’t recall ever seeing Minnie.”
He shot her a quick glance, his smile gone. “Minnie’s an ugly sight,” he replied. “Kept her in that locked closet, with the others. Didn’t see any call to show you our chamber of horrors.”
“Why, Henry?”
“Well….”
“Isn’t that what they’re for?”
“Sure. I suppose, though—that is, I always figured, why upset Beth. She can stand what she has to. A lot of people passed out or puked the first time we used those things—and not all women, by any means.”
“I think I ought to look.”
Henry’s amusement, as well as his indignation, were gone, now. “Hell, Mom!” he protested.
She beckoned with her head.
They went to the garage. Henry switched on the light. He unlocked a closet. Inside, standing, leaning against the walls, were two figures of human beings-a man and a child—