With shaky fingers he lit a cigarette, drew the smoke deep into his lungs and looked toward the lit kitchen window. Mrs. Cole, Laura's mother, was at the ironing board. She had murmured something to Laura when Laura went into the house. Hunter hadn't been able to make out the words, but there was no mistaking the tone of her voice. It was disapproving.After what seemed an eternity to Hunter, Laura came out of the house. Ignoring him, she picked up a bucket and dipped it into the water in the tub. Hunter threw his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it and went to the porch as she was lifting the bucket. He took it from her hand.“Where do you want this? ”“On the Rose of Sharon bush.”“Which one is that? ”He followed Laura's pointed finger and dumped the water on a bush beside the clothesline pole. When he returned to the porch, Laura had dragged the tub closer to the edge. Without words, he grasped the other handle of the tub and they carried it to the bush. Then he took it from her and carefully poured the water on the shrub.“Where does this go?
