Lauchlin of the Bad Heart by D. R. Macdonald

was everything here.”
    “I was fond of her too, you know.”
    “And she of you. I’m sorry. I should have let you know. But Lauchlin, there’s…”
    “Yes?”
    “Oh, it doesn’t matter for now. Come up when you can. I’m not home for long.”
    ON HIS WAY TO TOWN Lauchlin detoured up the backland road where he knew Clement was working. He passed the Philips’ old farm, the house long burned down, then a partially logged field with stumps and slash where he stopped at the ditch. Clement was rooting in the bed of his pickup, parked on a crude logging road not far in. Cooper’s truck, almost spotless, was down at the road. The portable bandsaw mill sat in the field with a timber run halfway through it, the band blade broken. A small pile of freshly milled boards was stacked beside it, and beyond a rough pile of spruce logs. Further back, his partner Cooper was limbing a felled spruce with a chainsaw. Clement waved and came down to Lauchlin’s truck.
    “How’s the business?” Lauchlin said.
    “Nothing but problems, Lauch.” He leaned into the passengerwindow, his sweating face twisted with exasperation, sawdust blonding his eyelashes, giving him a startled look. “The blade just busted. More lost time.”
    “Who you milling for?”
    “Harvey Philip’s young fella, he wants wood for a house.” Clement looked back at Cooper who had left off limbing to light a cigarette, gazing toward the thick woods as if he were expecting something to appear there. “Sometimes I think I’m milling for that man, or for nothing.”
    “He was in the store the other day. I couldn’t say I like him much.”
    “He’s okay when it suits him, but he turns like a rabbit. Talks a good game over a few drinks, another thing to get a whole day’s work out of him now. Sometimes he doesn’t show.”
    “Get yourself another man, can’t you?”
    “Can’t. We’re partners. He’s into me deep, as far as the money goes, and if I break it off I’ll never see a cent of it.” Cooper was too far off to hear them, but he had shifted his gaze in their direction, his eyes lost in dirty goggles. He and Lauchlin and Clement seemed stilled in mutual appraisal. Lauchlin lowered his sunglasses. Cooper flicked his cigarette into a whirl of sawdust the wind had lifted. Then he yanked the cord of his chainsaw and revved it loud, turning back to his work.
    “How’s the missus?” Lauchlin said.
    “Fine, good,” Clement said vaguely. “Look, since you’re here, Tena’s been wanting to try out those books they have on tape. The ones you can listen to off a cassette player?”
    “Audiobooks. Sure.”
    “I don’t know where to get them, and I don’t have the time, not lately.”
    “I could find her some. I used a few when I was teaching. What does she like?”
    “Don’t ask me, I couldn’t tell you.”
    “Suppose I stop by and ask her, see what she might want?”
    “You do that, boy. She’s alone too much anyway.”
    “Good luck with your woodcutter up there.”
    “I’m past luck with him. Let’s have a drink sometime, eh?”
    “Just that. Talk to you later.”
    This mission seemed to Lauchlin exactly right, a legitimate errand, he could do something for her, he could see her. As he drove the Southside road heading east for the highway, he mulled over what she might like in books. He’d bring her a tape or two, a gift to start her off. He didn’t know her, after all, she might want escape, detective stories, mysteries, even romances. He guessed not, there was more to her than that, and she was blind—that might call for a different journey into a book.
    But his attention swerved when two red marker posts approached at the roadside, the invitation of a certain driveway, of a cottage he knew. He slowed down, trying to resist its pull, there were errands to run. He had no idea if Maddy were there now, this day of the week, he hadn’t seen her since last fall, and he had things to do. But still, she might be there, down on the