The McCloskeys had only boys, two that were off in the Service and one that was full grown and had moved down South. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. “It was,” she admitted. To preserve herself, however, from destitution, or what she considered worse, she wedded a journeyman carpenter, named Sheppard. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key. “No power on earth will persuade me we’re not two rather disreputable persons.
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