By the time he got home, the boys were fed and in bed. Sarah was knitting. Always knitting.“Soup’s on the stove,” she said. “She called again.”“I notified the phone company. Not much they can do.” LeRoy helped himself and sat down at the table opposite Sarah.“Who is she, Roy?”“How am I supposed to know? What’re you making?”“Thought you’d never ask. Sweaters for the boys. She must know you.”LeRoy shrugged.“Some former girlfriend?”“For God’s sake,” said LeRoy. “Get off my back.”“I’m the one who gets the calls.” Sarah looked up. “Unless she calls when you’re here and you answer?”“Yeah.” LeRoy ate his soup to the sound of clicking needles. The woman had called when he’d answered, a soft voice he didn’t recognize. Told him she’d dreamed about him. What she’d like to do with him. Teach him a few things. He’d hung up. He slathered butter on a chunk of homemade bread, mopped up the last of his soup, and stood up. Who the hell was she?“I baked the bread this morning,”
