'Thomas Joseph Pickett,' Marybeth said sharply, 'go to bed. You're tired and disagreeable, and we can discuss this tomorrow.'
Joe started to say something, then caught himself. Her tone was similar to what he heard when she was mad at the children and used their formal names. It was fortunate she was right because Joe didn't have the energy for an argument.
Joe entered the living room, and Missy looked up from her magazine. Her eyebrows were arched in an expectant way. Joe found this annoying. She obviously knew there had been words in the kitchen.
'I'm going to bed,' Joe declared. He knew he sounded simple.
'You should do that,' Missy said, purring. 'You are probably just dead with all you've gone through.'
'Yup.'
'Good night, Joe. Sweet dreams.' Missy dropped her eyes back to her magazine and, with that gesture, dismissed him.
When Marybeth came into the bedroom later, Joe woke up with a start. He had been dreaming he was back in the mountains, back at the elk camp, reliving what had happened. In the aftershock of the shooting, time had become fluid, and Joe had drifted with it, like a raft on a river. The bodies of the outfitters were still in their tent where they had been found. Clyde Lidgard was still wrapped in the folds of the tent. He was moaning. They covered him with blankets. Pink bubbles formed and popped from a hole in his chest as he breathed. Deputy McLanahan was getting violently sick in the bushes from the tension and the release. The stench from the tent drifted to Joe and Wacey when the wind shifted.
In his dream, they were still waiting on the helicopter to arrive. They were all hungry.
'What time is it?' Joe asked. Marybeth was scrubbing her makeup off in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.
She was scrubbing hard. She was still mad.
'Midnight,' she said. 'Mom and I were visiting. I didn't realize how late it was getting.'
'Honey, I'm sorry,' Joe said. 'I just need sleep.'
'So sleep.'
'I will, if you'll get me that bottle of pills from the counter.'
Marybeth brought him a glass of water and the bottle of painkillers and returned to the sink. She had stripped to her bra and panties to scrub her face. Joe thought she looked good standing there. She stood on her toes to get her face closer to the mirror, and he admired her legs. Marybeth was not extremely thin, but she was firm and still looked athletic. The only place she looked pregnant was her belly. Marybeth carried her babies high and straight out as if she were already proud of them. She looked perfect as far as Joe was concerned. She could be fun in bed, and Joe suddenly wanted her there.
'What are you thinking?' she asked, looking at him from the mirror.
'I'm thinking you look pretty good.'
'And .. .' Marybeth said, 'aren't you too tired?'
'And I want you.'
Marybeth stopped scrubbing and turned toward him. 'Honey ...' she said, almost pleading and gesturing toward the closed bedroom door.
'She can't hear us,' Joe replied dryly. 'I'll make a point not to shout.'
Marybeth glared at him. 'It's not that. You know I don't like to do anything when my mother is in the house.'
Joe knew. They had had this discussion before, many times. But he continued, 'Do you think she thinks the kids were conceived by divine intervention?'
'No,' Marybeth said, 'but I'm just not comfortable when I know she's in the house, under the same roof. If I'm not comfortable, how fun can it be?'
Joe conceded the point, as he had conceded the point before.
'Okay,' he said, covering up. 'No hard feelings.'
'Good,' she said. 'I'm glad you understand. I know it's irrational, but it's the case here.'
When she came to bed, he was still awake. 'Do you want to know who came in and saw me last night in the hospital?' Joe asked as she snuggled into him.
'Wacey.'
'Well, him, too,' Joe said. 'But after Wacey, Vern Dunnegan came to call.'
He felt her stiffen.
'I really hate hospitals,' Joe said.
'I know you do. What did Vern have to say?'
'He just wished us well and said he thought I had done a good job up there in that camp with Wacey. He said he was proud of his two boys.'
'You're my boy, not Vern's,' Marybeth said. Then she cautioned him. 'Be careful with that man. I don't trust him. I never have.'
Joe chuckled at that. The pills were beginning to work. He felt numbing waves slowly wash over him.
'He just stayed for a minute, but he said he wanted to meet with me later this week. He said he wanted to
