"Did you see that?" says Helen. "Bush threw up a brick. Lefty. And it went in. He was so happy."
Four starters are back at Michigan, and Rumeal is the name at the top of the marquee, the senior leader of the national champions. Memories of his freshman year, when he was scholastically ineligible to play, are long gone. He needs only 18 credits to graduate with his class with a degree in sports management and communications. He undoubtedly will be chosen in the first round of the NBA draft.
Helen plans to go to Ann Arbor for some games, but she will also be at Rindge and Latin to watch Melvin, a senior. Melvin is also adopted. Louis is back on the job, of course, delivering another day's mail, and now he wears Rumeal's NCAA championship ring on his left hand. Rumeal's high school championship ring is on his right. He never removes either, not even when he sleeps.
"How do I feel about these rings?" he says. "How'd you feel if your son ripped out his heart and handed it to you?"
The sentimental glow of the events of last spring does not go away. "I've always thought that if you do good for other people, then sometime the good will be returned to you," says Louis. "Well, I've had mine. That was my reward. Nothing could be better—nothing."
Louis also says the Ford Hotel is becoming a little too quiet. He would like to hear the sounds of an adopted baby. A baby would give the place some life. Helen doesn't know whether she wants to adopt again.
"We'll talk," he says. "You'd like a baby. Just one more."
Helen says they will talk.