Someday, Mason almost replies. “Don’t know.” He picks the boy up, turns him upside down, and holds him by his feet. “Now then, what’s this?” “Me too!” cries Will. One in each Arm, “I’ll need to be at least this strong, in America.” Each time he bids them farewell and rides away, he pretends there’ll be at least one more Visit. They watch him depart, smaller in the Doorway than in his embrace, and at the Turn of the Road, hand in hand, go dashing off.
