Joe saw Marybeth’s van in there also. She was home early. As he entered the house through the back door they used to access their new living quarters, Marybeth looked up, saw his face, and sat down quickly as if her legs had given out on her.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Let’s go into the bedroom and shut the door,” she said.
HE TOLD MARYBETH he’d been fired, and her reaction was worse than he anticipated: stunned silence. He would have preferred that she yelled at him, or cried, or locked herself in their room. Instead, she simply stared at him and whispered, “What are we going to do now, Joe?”
“We’ll figure something out,” he said, lamely.
“I guess we knew this would happen.”
“Yes.”
“When do we tell the girls?” Marybeth asked. “
“The truth,” he said. That would be the hardest part. No, it wouldn’t. The hardest part would be that Sheridan and Lucy would expect him to say not to worry, that he would take care of them as he always had. But he couldn’t tell them that and look them in the eye.
DINNER THAT EVENING was one of the worst Joe could remember. They sat at the big dining room table with Missy and Bud. Missy’s cook, a Latina named Maria, had made fried chicken and the pieces steamed in a big bowl in the middle of the table. Bud ate as if he were starved. Missy picked at a breast that had been skinned and was made specially for her. Joe had no appetite, even though it was his favorite meal. When he had been employed, that is. Marybeth was silent. Sheridan spent dinnertime looking from her mom to her dad and back again, trying to figure out what was happening. Lucy was oblivious.
The rain roared against the roof and sang down the downspouts. Bud said a half-dozen times how happy he was that it was raining.
AFTER THE DISHES were cleared, Joe asked Bud if he could borrow a ranch pickup.
“Where are you going?” Missy said. Now that they were under her roof, Missy felt entitled to ask questions like that.
“I’ve got birds to feed,” Joe said.
“Have you looked outside?” Missy said with an expression clearly meant to convey that he was an idiot.
“Why? Is something happening?” Joe said. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with his mother-in-law tonight.
Marybeth shot him a cautionary look. Sheridan stifled a smile.
“I hope Bud doesn’t have to come out and rescue you again if you get stuck,” Missy said, and turned away.
“I don’t mind,” Bud said. “I kind of like driving around in the rain. It makes me feel good.”
“I’ll try not to get stuck again,” Joe said as he headed to the mudroom for his still-damp boots and coat. Marybeth followed him there.
“Sheridan knows something is up.”
“I know,” Joe said, wincing as he pulled on a wet boot.
“Maybe when you get home we can talk to the girls.”
Joe sighed. “I guess.” He’d been putting it off all night.
“Joe, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He looked up. “Yes, honey, it is.”
“My business is doing well.”
“Thank God for that,” Joe said, standing, jamming his foot into a boot to seat it. “Thank God for your business, or we’d be out on the street.”
“Joe . . .”
He looked up at her and his eyes flashed. “I brought it on myself, I know that. I could have played things differently. I could have compromised a little more.”
She shook her head slowly. “No you couldn’t, Joe.”
He clammed up. Anything he said now would make things worse, he knew. His insides ached. How could she possibly know how it felt for a man to lose his job, lose the means of taking care of his family? He kept pushing the crushing reality of it aside so that he was only contemplating the little things: that he would no longer wear the red shirt, that he would no longer carry a badge and a gun, that he would no longer perch on hillsides watching deer and antelope and elk. That he would no longer bring home a monthly paycheck.
“Be careful,” she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “I worry about you when you’re like this.”
He tried to smile but he knew it looked like a pained snarl.
“I’ve got to get out for a while” was all he managed to say. God, he was grateful she was his wife.
Missy swept in behind Marybeth and stood there with her eyes sparkling above a pursed mouth. “This is interesting, isn’t it?”
“What are you referring to?”
She opened her arms toward the window of the mudroom, a gesture designed to take in the whole ranch. “Three years ago, I was camped out on your couch in that horrible little hovel you made my daughter and my grandchildren live in. And you wanted me
