She told me about Grandpa, and she described him right, said he liked to leave his union suit on and just unbutton the fly. She said, “If I’d known he was religious, I wouldn’t have told on him. Religious people like to keep this part of their life quiet, that and their drinking. Way I figure it, Jesus forgives, so why not enjoy yourself? He’ll understand.” “I don’t know it works exactly that way,” I said. “Well, it ought to,” she said. I was stunned to find out Grandfather and I had shared more than the hole in the outhouse and the water dipper at the well. It was like finding out your face belonged to someone else. But I couldn’t dwell on it. “I’m really here to find my sister,” I said. “You could have fooled me,” she said. “Does she work here?” “Nothing like that,” I said. “She’s a decent girl.” Soon as I said it, I wished the words had not come out of my mouth.
