“I haven’t gone hunting in twenty years!”
I nodded slowly, as if all the pieces had finally fallen into place. I folded the ten-dollar bill back into my wallet and snapped it shut.
“Well,” I said, “in that case, I’m not going to give you the money.”
His eyebrows rose slightly—confusion mixed with disappointment.
“But,” I continued, “I am going to take you home.”
He blinked.
“You can take a hot shower,” I said.
“Use a clean towel. Sit at a table. And then you can have a really terrific dinner—one cooked by my wife.”
For the first time, he looked genuinely stunned.
“Your wife?” he asked carefully.
“Won’t she be furious with you for bringing a homeless man home like that?”
I smiled, already picturing the scene.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied.
“It’s important for her to see what a man looks like after he’s given up drinking, fishing, and hunting.”
