"New battery," he said. "Your old one was from the Eisenhower administration. And the cables were corroded. I cleaned them up." He held out the keys. "I hope you don't mind. Art Kessler let me in the lot."
"How did you get the keys?"
"You left them in it. In the ignition. In a parking lot." He shook his head slowly. "I'd lecture you, but you look like you've had a night."
"So do you."
"Yeah." He looked down at the keys in his hand. "The old fellow's okay. The one on Quarry Road. Mr. Lasko. Fell asleep with a cigarette in his recliner after his daughter's family went home. He's at the hospital in Coudersport with some smoke in his lungs, but he's okay. He asked if somebody would go feed his dog." He smiled a little. "Danny's got the dog. Danny's going to keep the dog, I think, whether Mr. Lasko likes it or not."
Nora came down one step. She held out her hand, and he put the keys in it, and his fingers were cold.
"Mrs. Pruitt said you left," he said quietly. "She said you were scared, and that it wasn't my business to chase you, and that if I tried she'd take my good knife away." He looked up at her. "So I'm not chasing you. I wanted to bring your car. And I wanted to say — I know what I'm asking. I'm not stupid. I know what it would be, for you. Of all the men in the world, a fireman. Of all the firehouses, that one." He stopped. "If the answer's no, I understand it. I'd understand it better than anybody. I just didn't want you to think I didn't know. I know."