Again, she sighed, and I was afraid this offer, whatever it was, would be snatched away again because I was making her impatient. But she sighed not out of irritation, rather out of a heaviness of the heart.

"Galilee was everything to us," she said. "And he became nothing. I want you to understand how that came about."

"I'll do my best, I swear."

"I know you will," she said gently. "But it may take more courage than you have. You're so human, Maddox. I've always found that hard to like."

"I can't do much about it."

"Your father loved you for that very reason, you know…" Her voice trailed away. "What a mess it all is," she said. "What a terrible, tragic mess. To have had so much, and let it go through our ringers…"

"I want to understand how that happened," I replied, "more than anything, I want to understand."

"Yes," she said, somewhat distractedly. Her thoughts were already elsewhere.

"What do I need to do?" I asked her.

'"I'll explain everything to Luman," Mama replied. "He'll watch over you. And of course if it's too much for your human sensibilities-"

"Zabrina can take it away."

"That's right. Zabrina can take it away."

I had a different vision of the house thereafter. Everything was expectation. I was looking for a sign, a due, a glimpse of this mysterious source of knowledge that Cesaria had invited me to share. What form would it take, if it wasn't books? Was there somewhere in the house a collection of family heirlooms for me to sift through? Or was I being entirely too literal? Had I been invited into a place of spirit rather than substance? If so, would I have the words to express what I felt in that place?

For the first time in perhaps three months I decided to leave my room and go outside. For this, I need somebody's help. Jefferson didn't design the house anticipating the presence of a crippled occupant (and I doubt that Cesaria ever thought she'd entertain such frailty) so there are fpur steps in the passageway that leads out to the front hall; steps which are too deep for me to negotiate in a wheelchair even with help. Dwight has to carry me down, like a babe in arms, and then I wait, laid prone on the sofa in the hallway, until he brings down the chair and sets me in it.