“Yeah.” Lynn had smiled a little in spite of herself. “Kinda.”
No amount of coercing would convince Lynn to visit the new home by the stream. “I’m sure it’s great,” she assured Stebbs as he regarded her over a shared supper in the basement. He’d brought beans with him and offered to help Lynn cut down the cured venison from the trees. It seemed rude to let him walk off into the cold evening without a warm supper. The venison had been frozen, but a few chunks cooked up nicely on the stove with the beans. Lucy sat on her cot, running her finger along the inside of the bean can to get the last bits of sauce.
Stebbs watched her for a second before continuing. “It’s better than great. Tiny, on account of we tossed it up so fast, but Eli had a good idea. There’s a loft where they can sleep so they don’t have to roll up their bedding every morning. Wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to build, but there was some sense in it, ’cause there’s not much floor space.”
Lynn stared moodily down at her supper. The idea of Neva and Eli snuggled together in the loft made her stomach feel funny in a way that wasn’t related to hunger.
“That Eli, he’s a worker. Give him some food and it gets turned into pure muscle. I’m telling you, Lynn, you wouldn’t recognize the boy from the first time you saw him.”
She grunted and studied her food.
“Then I got lucky and found an old woodstove over to the junkyard. Nothing pretty, but it’s not too big.” He took a bite of venison, and Lynn welcomed the moment of silence while he chewed.
Stebbs swallowed. “Cut a hole in the roof and run some piping up there and they were home, neat as pins. Doesn’t have a door though. The stove, not the house. I told them they’ll have to watch for sparks flying out of there ’til I can fix it.”
“Until
“Sure, why not?” He took another bite of meat and spoke with his mouth full. “I got nothing else to do. You’re not exactly begging for help.”
“I don’t need any.”
“I see that.” He motioned toward the well-stocked pantry and the full clean water tank beyond that. “You’ll be setting even better once the little missy is off your hands.”
“Off my hands?”
“Sure.” Stebbs wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Now that there’s a real home over there, with her mother in it.”
“Right, her mother. Who hasn’t asked about her once.” The swelling anger in her belly took her by surprise, and she fought hard to keep her mouth tight, her tone even.
“Now, how would you know that? You’re not exactly the visiting type. For all you know, Neva is over there crying her eyes out over her little girl.”
Lynn gave him a cold stare over their empty plates. “But I bet she’s not.”
Stebbs shot a glance over at Lucy, who was busy hitting the bean can with a stick. “No, she’s not crying. But I can tell you she’s not doing so well either. Women don’t always show their emotions clearly, and that one is hurting. She lost her home, husband, and brand-new baby all at once. If she deals with it by sticking by the stream and sitting quiet, that’s her business.”
Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “You like her.”
“She’s pretty,” he said defensively.
“Pretty useless.”
They glared at each other in silence long enough for Lucy to notice the change. She kicked the can over to where they were sitting cross-legged on the floor. “What’s wrong?”
“Just this young lady here and I having a difference of opinion, is all,” Stebbs said, rising awkwardly to his feet. “Time for me to be going, I suppose. Thanks for supper.”
“You brought it,” Lynn said grudgingly. Happy with him or not, she wouldn’t have him thanking her for his own food.
Stebbs sighed and winked at Lucy. “Thanks anyway. And if you get it in your head to go over that direction, there’s at least one person by the stream that I think wouldn’t mind seeing you.”
“I can’t leave the pond.” Lynn ignored the reference to Eli, although a flush crept up her cheeks that she hoped wasn’t obvious in the dimly lit basement.
“That the problem, is it?”
“I was lucky the one time. Can’t count on luck.” Even days after their trip to the stream to deliver Neva’s baby, Lynn was haunted by what could have happened in her absence. “I won’t do it again.”
Stebbs considered that for a moment. “All right then, what if I got them to come over here? Kind of like a homecoming party for the little one, when it’s time?”
“Yeah sure, when it’s time.”
Time passed slowly. The days were shorter now, the sun making its arc from one horizon to the other so quickly that Lynn was hard pressed to accomplish her outdoor work in the daylight hours. Lucy was a welcome helper, and their pile of kindling near the basement window was sufficient enough for two winters, but Lynn didn’t tell her to stop. Boredom would be the new enemy, she was well aware. The freezing air would drive them permanently indoors soon, where long hours would stretch.
She stopped gathering water. Every bucketful she removed from the pond brought the handle closer to the surface. Lynn managed to convince herself that if it remained submerged, they would be fine. They were safe for the moment; the clean tank in the basement was full, as were the huge tanks in the pole barn, safe from freezing by their sheer volume. It was the future Lynn stored up against; the possibility of a snowless winter followed by a dry spring. No snowmelt meant no runoff. Since their pond wasn’t ground fed, it relied on rain and runoff for refilling. There had been no rain for weeks.
Lynn shut the barn door behind her, drinking in the smells for the last time in a long time. The basement tank held a thousand gallons. With her daily routine at an end, she might not be back to the barn for refresher fills on the basement tank for a month. Lynn snapped the double padlocks onto the pole barn door, typically Mother’s last act before giving in to the relentless push of the winter. A spasm of grief twisted her gut and she missed Mother desperately. It was so much easier when someone was there to tell her what to do, how to survive. Now she was on her own, with responsibilities she hadn’t asked for.
Lucy responded well to the cold weather, bundling up in layers of Lynn’s old clothes and running for hours through the tall grass, enjoying the sound of the brittle stalks breaking under her feet. Soon she had a meandering maze of a trail pounded down through the unkempt yard, which Lynn could see clearly from the roof. She played for hours with Red Dog, building him little houses out of sticks and destroying them with imaginary natural disasters. She wanted to simulate a flood but Lynn wouldn’t loan her the water. She settled for tornadoes and blew herself red in the face.
She was destroying his third home of the week when a flash of movement to the east caught Lynn’s eye.
“Lucy! To the house!” The little girl jumped to her feet and ran for cover without question.
Lynn peered through her scope, but saw nothing. Wildlife had begun to return to the field where she had slaughtered the coyotes, but she hadn’t seen any more of the wild dogs lately. She followed the path of the road with her scope, willing the tall grass to part and give her a clear view. A breeze snuck through the weeds and spread them far enough for her to see an unnatural shade of blue moving toward the house.
Lynn’s heart skipped a beat; her rifle barrel jumped. Strangers who walked the open road were dangerous. Mother had taught her that those who didn’t hide themselves believed they were the ones to be feared and were best dropped at a distance. Her finger clutched the trigger impulsively, but she let out a slow breath. The man had moved out of her sight behind the overgrowth of the ditch, but the breeze brought an alien sound to her ears.
Whistling.
“Can I come out now?” Lucy’s hesitant voice rose up from under the eaves. Lynn started and lost her grip on the rifle. The sweaty barrel struck the shingles and she reflexively covered her ears, but it did not go off.
“Lucy,” she hissed, “go in the house.” Lynn wiped her hands on her coat and repositioned the rifle. She didn’t hear the back door opening. “Lucy,” she growled, a little louder. “Inside. Now.”
