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Noah is settled down on his little blanket, and Alma has given him some spoons to play with. High up, a few feet away, Alma and Kristina drink coffee at the kitchen table. Noah, thank heavens, has been subdued since Alma opened the door to them, no trouble at all.

In this new place he seems peculiarly vivid—not entirely familiar, as if the way Alma sees him were trickling into Kristina’s vision. Kristina contemplates his look of gentle inquiry, his delicate eyebrows, gold against his darker skin, his springy little ringlets. He looks distantly monumental in his beauty, like an idol at the center of a serene pond, sending out quiet ripples.

“You better do something about that cold of his. He looks like he’s got a little fever,” Alma says, exhaling smoke carefully away from him. “Or is that asthma?”

Kristina’s gaze transfers to Alma’s face.

“Does he have asthma?” Alma says.

“He’ll be better now we’re out of the car,” Kristina says.

Yesterday afternoon and last night, and most of today, too, nothing but driving in rain, pulling over for patchy sleep, Noah waking again and again, crying, as he does these days coming out of naps, bad dreams sticking to him. Or maybe he’s torn from good ones.

Or maybe dreams are new to him in general and it’s frightening—one life sinking into the shadows, the forgotten one rising up. How would she know? He’s talking pretty well now—he’s got new words every day—but he doesn’t quite have the idea yet of conversation and its uses.

Driving up, Kristina saw water just out back of the house, and tangled brush still bare of leaves, but Alma has taped plastic over her kitchen window to keep out the cold, and the plastic is blurry, and denting in the wind. All that’s visible are vague, dark blotches, spreading, twisting, and disappearing. Anyone could be walking along the shore out in the gathering dark, looking in, and you wouldn’t know.

Alma’s saying that her friend Gerry is going to come by and then they’re going out to grab a bite. “I won’t be back too late, I guess.” She glances at Kristina as impersonally as if she were checking something on a chart. “I’ll pick up something at work tomorrow for the baby’s cough.” A psychiatric facility is what she called the place she works, but it sounds like a hospital.

A clattering over by the fridge makes Kristina’s heart bounce, and there’s a large man—stopping short in the doorway.

“Gerry, my sister Kristina,” Alma says. “Kristina, Gerry.”

“Your sister?” is what the man finds to say.

Alma reddens fast to an unpleasant color and looks down at her coffee cup. “Close enough. The guy who was my dad? Seems he was her dad, too.”

“Hey,” Gerry says, and gives Alma a little pat. But it’s too late. Kristina was always the pretty one.

Gerry has a full, frowzy beard and a sheepish, tentative manner, as if it’s his lot to knock over liquids or splinter chairs when he sits. Kristina picks up Noah to get him out from underfoot. “Can you say hi?” she asks him.

He observes Gerry soberly while Gerry waves, then burrows his head against her shoulder.

“Cute,” Gerry says to Kristina. “Yours?”

Alma sighs. “No, ours.” And then it’s Gerry’s turn to become red.

“Is there a store near here where I can get some milk and things for him?” Kristina asks. “We kind of ran out on the way.”

Alma grinds her cigarette out on her saucer, staring at it levelly. “I would have stocked up if I’d known you were coming,” she says.

“I tried to call from the road,” Kristina says.

“McClure’s will still be open,” Gerry says.

Alma looks at him without altering her expression, and turns back to Kristina. “Gas station type place a few miles down. Not the answer to your dreams, maybe, but you’ll find the essentials.”

“Which way do I go?” Kristina asks.

Alma looks at her for a long moment. “If the car goes glub glub? Try turning around.”

*  *  *  *  *

By the time Kristina returns from McClure’s, Alma and Gerry are gone. Entering the house for a second time, this time with a key, juggling Noah and a bag of supplies, Kristina could practically be coming home. The mailbox says she is; that’s her name there—a durable memento from the man who slid out of Alma’s life soon after Alma was born and about a decade later, when Kristina was born, slid out of hers.

When Kristina first saw the house this afternoon, she had felt the sort of shame that accompanies making an error. She hadn’t realized she’d been expecting anything specific, but clearly there’d been a dwelling in her mind that was larger or brighter—more cheerful. Still, it’s what a person needs, four walls and a roof, shelter.

She supplements the graham crackers from McClure’s with a festive-looking package of microwave lasagna that was sitting in the freezer. “Isn’t this fun?” she says to Noah. “All we have to do is push the button.”

Noah stares intently. Behind the window in the glossy white box, plastic wrap and Styrofoam revolve turbulently as intense, artificial smells pour out into the room. Shadows move in Noah’s dark eyes, and he turns away.

“What?” she says.

He leans against her leg and says something. She has to bend down to hear.

“Not today. Thumb, Noah,” she says as he puts his into his mouth. “No doggies today.”

Alma might have thought of canceling her date with Gerry, Kristina thinks. It’s been years since the two of them have seen each other, and it would be awfully nice to have some company. But there’s Noah to concentrate on, anyhow. She urges him to eat, but he doesn’t seem to be hungry. For that matter, neither is she. She spreads a sheet out on the futon that she and Alma dragged from the couch frame onto the floor, and there—she and Noah have their bed.

Outside, the wind is still hurtling clumsily by, thrashing through the branches and low, twiggy growth, groaning and pleading in the language of another world. But she and Noah are hidden under the blankets. She’ll turn out the light, the night will be a deep blue swatch, Noah’s cold will die down, and in the morning the wind will be gone and the sun will shine. She reaches up to the switch.

The whoosh of darkness brings Eli—surging around her from the four corners of the earth, bursting Alma’s tinny little house apart.

She gasps for breath and flings aside the churning covers; she stumbles into the kitchen where she stands naked at the window. A dull splotch of moonlight on the plastic expands and contracts in the wind.

“Kissy?” a tiny, hoarse voice says behind her.

The small form hovers in the shifting darkness. It holds out its arms to be picked up. The blank dark pools of its eye sockets face her.

“Go back to sleep,” she says as calmly as she can. Fatigue is making her heart race and stirring up a muddy swirl of worries. Little discomforts and pains are piping up here and there in her body. “Now, please.” She turns resolutely away and sits down at the kitchen table. After a few seconds she hears him pad away.

Fortunately, there’s an open pack of Alma’s cigarettes out on the table. Her hands shake slightly but manage to activate a match. Flame from sulfur, matter into clouds …

*  *  *  *  *

Everything that happens is out there waiting for you to come to it. One little turn, then another, then another—and by the time you think to wonder where you are and how you got there, it’s dark.

She can’t see back. It’s like looking into a well. She sees her long hair ripple forward. There’s nothing in front of her. But then rising up behind her, the moving shadows of trees, of the muddy road, of cars, of faces—Nonie, Roger, Liz, the girls from the distant farms, Eli … At the dark center of the water her own face is indistinct.

And then there she is, standing indecisively at the bus station, over a year and a half ago, in the grimy little city where she grew up. She was a whole year out of high school, and there had been nothing but dead-end clubs and drugs, and dead-end jobs. Years before, Alma had told her, go to college, go to college, but when the time came she couldn’t see it—the loans and the drudgery to repay them and then what, anyhow. There was talk of modeling—someone she met—but she was too lanky and maybe a little strange for catalog work, it turned out, and too something else for serious fashion. Narrow shoulders, and the wrong attitude, they said; no attitude, apparently. So for a while, instead of putting clothes on for the photos it had been taking them off, and after that it was working in a store that sold shoes and purses.

When she was little there had been moments like promises, disclosures—glimpses of radiant things to come that were so clear and sharp they seemed like erupting memories. A sudden scent, a sudden slant of light, and a blur of pictures would stream past. It was as if she’d been born out of a bright, fragrant world into the soiled, boarded up room of her life. She chose the town for its name from the list of destinations at the bus station.

*  *  *  *  *

Soft hills flowed in distant rings around the little country town, and a chick-colored sun shone over it. Out in front of the pretty white houses were bright, round-petaled flowers. Sheep drifted across the meadows like clouds.

*  *  *  *  *

Every day she awoke to the white houses and the gentle hills, and it was like looking down at a tender, miniature world. The sky was pure; the planet spun in it brightly, like a marble.

Tourists came on the weekends for the charged air, and the old-fashioned inns. With so many people coming to play, it had been easy to get work.

The White Rabbit … with that poor animal, its petrified red glass eyes staring down at her and Nonie from over the bar. It wasn’t enough they shot it and stuffed it, Nonie had said; they had to plunk it down right here to listen to Frank’s sickening jokes.

A pouty Angora mewed up at them from its cushion near Kristina’s ankle. Good thing they didn’t call this place The White Cat, huh, you, she’d said, and just then Frank craned into the dining room. Girls—ladies. A lull is not a holiday. A lull is when we wipe down tables, make salads, roll silver …

Or The White Guy, Nonie said.

Nonie—all that crazy, crimpy hair—energy crackling right out from it! Her new friend. Nonie had a laugh like little colored blocks of wood toppling.

*  *  *  *  *

It wasn’t long before she moved into a room in the pretty white house Nonie and Munsen were renting. Nonie was still waiting tables on weekends then, saving up; she was planning to buy a bakery Nonie and Munsen were hoping to have a baby.

*  *  *  *  *

How nice it had been when Munsen came home on his lunch breaks to hang out in the kitchen, and they were all three together. Munsen, looking for all the world like a stoopy plant, draped in the aroma of butter, smiling, blinking behind his gold-rimmed specs, drinking his coffee, sometimes a beer.

And Nonie—that was a sight to see! Little Nonie, slapping the dough around, waking the dormant yeast as if she were officiating at the beginning of the world.

How had Nonie figured out to do that, she’d wanted to know.

No figuring involved, Nonie told her; when she was a kid she was always just sort of rolling around in the flour.

She’d given Kristina a little hug. Never mind, she said. You’ll find something to roll around in.

Anyhow, Munsen said, it’s overrated.

Sure, Nonie said, but it what?

Munsen had sighed. It all, he said.

*  *  *  *  *

One star and then another detached from its place and flamed across the dark. The skies were dense with constellations. Whole galaxies streamed toward the porch where she sat with Nonie and Munsen on her nights off, watching the coded messages from her future, light years away.

She helped, but maybe she slowed things down a bit. Well, she did, though Nonie never would have said. So while Nonie carried on in the kitchen, she would take Nonie’s rattly old car and deliver orders of bread and pastries to various inns and restaurants. And Nonie and Munsen let her have her room for free.

Save those pennies! Nonie said.

For what? she had thought; uh-oh.

*  *  *  *  *

Every day there were new effects, modulations of colors and light, as if something were being perfected at the core. Going from day to day was like unwrapping the real day from other days made out of splendid, fragile, colored tissue.

*  *  *  *  *

The tourists started swarming in for the drama of the changing leaves. Every weekend the town bulged with tourists. Someone named Roger took her to dinner on one of her nights off, to The Mill Wheel, where she subbed sometimes.

Roger had waxy, poreless skin, as if he’d spent years packed in a box, and his blue eyes shone with joyous, childlike gluttony, lighting now on booty, now on tribute.

It had come to him, he told her, that it was time to make some changes. He was living in the city—toiling, as he put it, in the engine rooms of finance, but one day not long ago his company had vanished, along with so many others, in a little puff of dirty smoke. What was he to do? His portfolio had been laid waste. So, the point was, he could scrounge for something else, but it had occurred to him, why not just pull up stakes and live in some reasonably gratifying way? There wasn’t any money to speak of out there these days, anyhow.

Money to speak of. A different kind of money than the money her mother had counted out for groceries.

So why not look at this period of being broke as an opportunity, he was saying, that might not come again. Because this was, he’d informed her, one’s life.

The waiter poured a little wine into Roger’s glass. How is that, sir? the waiter said.

Fine, Roger said, very good. He beamed as the waiter poured out a full glass for Kristina.

Thanks, Artie, she said, and Artie had bowed.

You know everyone! Roger observed.

Yeah, well, she knew Artie, unfortunately. A tiny chapter her history would have been better off without.

What is it? Roger asked. He’d smiled quizzically and taken her hand. What are you thinking?

She’d looked at him, smiled back, and withdrawn her hand.

Roger’s marriage, for better or worse, had come to its natural end, he was saying. And while he looked for the occasion to make that clear, in a sensitive manner, to his wife, he was scouting out arenas in which to mine his stifled and neglected capacities.

As he talked, he gazed at her raptly, as though she were a mirror. When he reached for his wallet, to show her pictures of his children, she withdrew her hand from his again, and concentrated on drinking the very good wine. By the time they had polished off nearly two bottles and Roger was willing to throw in the towel, The Mill Wheel had almost emptied out, and Artie was lounging at the bar, staring at her evilly.

After that evening, she turned down dinner invitations, and eventually she started wearing a ring. At some point it came to her attention that Roger had indeed moved to town. In fact, he was increasingly to be seen in the afternoons hanging out at one of the bars or another, brainstorming his next move in life with the help of the bartenders.

*  *  *  *  *

The brilliant autumn days graded into a dazzling, glassy winter with skies like prisms, and then spring drifted down, as soft as pale linen. She painted her room a deep, mysterious blue.

Where on earth was she going to go if Nonie and Munsen had this baby they kept talking about?

She kept seeing women around her age, or anyway not much older, coming into town in their beat-up cars or pickups, to stock up. They looked sunburned and hardy and ready for the next thing, as if they were climbing out of water after a swim. Big, friendly dogs frisked around them.

Where could they be coming from? From out in the country, of course—way out, from the wild, ramshackle farms, where the weeds shot up and burst into sizzling flowers.

*  *  *  *  *

The kitchen is freezing. She goes into the bedroom and selects a worn chenille robe from Alma’s closet. Alma’s clock, with the big, reproving green numbers, says ten thirty.

So, where is Alma? Way back, when they were growing up almost next door to each other in the projects, and their mothers let Alma exercise her fierce affections on the little girl she knew to be her half-sister, Alma took care of her while their mothers worked.

And young as Kristina was, Alma confided in her. Back then, Kristina felt Alma’s suffering over boys like the imprint of a slap on her own skin. Evidently things haven’t changed much for Alma, and it’s saddening now to picture Alma’s history with Gerry: the big guy on the next bar stool, a few annihilating hours of alcohol, a messy, urgent interval at his place or hers, the sequence recapitulated now and again—an uneasy companionability hemmed about with recriminations and contingencies …

*  *  *  *  *

In her peripheral vision, Eli appears.

It was busy, and she didn’t get a good look at him right away, but even at the other end of the room, sitting and talking to Frank, he was conspicuous, as if he were surrounded by his own splendid night.

Yes. She’d felt the active density right away, the gravitational pull.

*  *  *  *  *

It must have been several weeks later that he was there again with Frank. And when Frank got up to strut, and sniff around for mistakes, Eli looked right at her over Frank’s shoulder and smiled—not the usual sort of stranger’s smile, like a fence marking a divide. Not a stranger’s smile at all.

It was a Friday night; the tourists started to pour in, and when she had a chance to peek back at him he was gone. He didn’t reappear.

*  *  *  *  *

Then one night she glanced up from the table where she was taking an order and he was sitting at the bar. A little shock rippled through her. Evidently she’d been waiting.

He was looking for Frank again of course, but, as she explained, it was Frank’s night off. Too bad you didn’t call first, she said.

No phone, he told her, lightly.

No phone. Okay, but how did he find people when he wanted to?

Finding people is easy, he’d said; it’s not getting found that’s hard.

It was a slow evening, and early. They stood side by side at the bar. She could feel his gaze; she let herself float on it. How long had he and Frank been friends, she’d asked.

He’d seemed amused. Strictly business, he said. And what about her? Who was she? Where was she from?

As she spoke, he looked at her consideringly, and sorrow rose up, closing over her. How little she had to show for her eighteen years on the planet! In an hour or so the room would be filled with frenetic diners, killing time until it killed them. They might as well be shot and stuffed themselves.

I don’t know about this town, though, she’d said. I’m starting to feel like I’m asleep.

So, maybe you need your sleep, he said. This isn’t a bad place for a nap. Why not nap? Soon you’ll be refreshed and ready to move on out.

*  *  *  *  *

She took to sitting at her window. Haze covered the hills in the distance; the sky had become opaque, and close. Where had that real day gone?

*  *  *  *  *

Sometimes after she finished delivering the orders in Nonie’s old car she’d just drive around, down the small highways to the shady dirt roads. Sometimes she thought she’d caught a glimpse of Eli in town, just rounding a corner, disappearing through a doorway; she wasn’t well, she thought—it seemed that maybe she never had been.

Maybe I’ll try to find myself a place out in the country, she told Nonie, and get my own car.

That would be great, Nonie said. I’ll help you look, if you want.

Wouldn’t you even miss me? she’d said.

Of course, Nonie said. But you wouldn’t be far. You’d come see us all the time.

And I’d keep helping you, she’d said.

And you’d keep helping me, Nonie said.

*  *  *  *  *

She can still see in perfect detail Zoe’s face as she saw it in the The White Rabbit, for the first and only time. Truly she could only have glimpsed it—in profile as Zoe and Eli left, or in the mirror over the bar—but she might as well have scrutinized it for hours. It’s almost as if she had been inside Zoe, looking into that mirror over the bar herself, seeing herself in the perfect dark skin, the perfect head, her hair almost shorn. She can feel Zoe’s delicate body working as if it were her own, and she can feel the weight of the sleeping baby strapped to Zoe’s back.

The lovely face with its long, wide-set eyes floats in Alma’s plastic-covered window now, unsmiling, distant.

Eli had waved as he and Zoe left, but it was as if she was watching him from behind dark glass; she didn’t wave back, or smile.

And Zoe appeared not to have seen her. The fact is, Zoe appeared not to see anything at all; Zoe had looked unearthly and singular, as if she were a blind woman.

*  *  *  *  *

Nonie was five months pregnant by the time she and Munsen told Kristina. She was superstitious, she said, and she’d had trouble before. She chuckled and patted her stomach. But this is getting pretty obvious, she said. I figured you were just being polite.

For months Munsen and Nonie had been aware there was a baby in the house.

Oh, her blue room! It had been pretty poor comfort that day.

Of course, it hadn’t really been her room for the five previous months.

*  *  *  *  *

And the lady at the real estate office! Irritably raking back the streaky hair, the rectangular glasses in their thin frames, the expectant expression that went blank when Kristina spoke, or changed to a hurried smile …

A little less than fifteen hundred dollars! Every penny she’d saved. Not quite enough, was it, even for some crumbling hut out there, all made out of candy.

*  *  *  *  *

While Nonie baked rolls and Munsen sanded down to satin the cradle he’d built for the invisible baby, she’d flipped through Munsen’s atlas. Chicago, Maine, Seattle, Atlanta—or why not go to one of those places really far away, where people spoke languages she couldn’t understand at all? Because that was the point—this direction or that—apparently it didn’t matter where she went.

The end of summer was already sweeping through town, hectic with color and heat, as if it were making a desperate stand against the darkness and cold ahead. Nearly a year had passed.

*  *  *  *  *

He was watching her as she walked right by him at the bar. Hey, he said, and held his hand out. No handshakes? No greetings, no how are yous, none of the customary effusions?

She had blushed deeply; she shook her hair back. All right, she said, greetings.

She remembers standing there, waiting for the blush to calm while he stretched lazily.

Well, since you ask, he’d said, here’s the data. A lot of travel, recently, a lot of work. And my girlfriend is gone.

It was as if there were other words inside those, in the way there are with jokes. That’s too bad, she said.

Why, exactly? he said, and the mortifying blush flared again.

To tell you the truth, he was saying, it was obvious almost from the beginning that there were going to be problems.

That woman had looked like someone with problems, she remembers having thought; that woman in the mirror looked like she was drifting there between the land of the living and the land of the dead.

And what was she up to herself these days, he’d wanted to know.
She took a deep breath to establish some poise in her thoughts. Since you ask, she said, I think nap time is just about up for me.

*  *  *  *  *

That very night, when she got back after work, he was there in the kitchen. He and Munsen were drinking beer, and he must have just finished saying something that made Nonie and Munsen laugh. She’d stood in the doorway, silenced.

There she is, Nonie said. How come you never brought this guy around? He’s okay.

Guess I don’t need to introduce anyone, she’d said.

Nonie and Munsen were sitting at the table, but he was lounging against the wall, looking at her, not quite smiling. It seemed I might not have a whole lot of time, he said. So I thought I’d drop on by to ask for your hand.

He waited for her to approach. She couldn’t feel herself moving. She laughed a little, breathlessly, as he removed her ring, looking at her. Dollar store, she said, and he dropped it into the ashtray on the kitchen table.

Wow! Munsen said. Okay!

There’s some stuff I have to deal with tonight, Eli said. Sit tight. I’ll be back in for you at noon.

*  *  *  *  *

Roger was already at the bar of The White Rabbit when she went in to leave a note for Frank the next morning. His arm was around one of the new waitresses. His wife and kids were where by then, she wondered. Probably living in his abandoned SUV on just the same street where she and Alma grew up, all those years ago. Hey, she’d said. Hey, he said cheerfully. Actually, he hadn’t seemed to quite remember who she was.

*  *  *  *  *

Wear something pretty, Eli had said the night before as he left, and so she was wearing her favorite dress, with its little straps and bare back. Her hair was pinned up. He swung her satchel into the back of the truck and then they climbed in.

Beyond the windshield, the hills had an arresting, detailed look. Red and gold were beginning to edge into the leaves. The hills were like inverted bowls or gentle cones, covered with trees. She had the impression that she could see each and every tree. The trees, like the hills, were shaped like gentle cones or inverted bowls. Would you look at that, she said.

Huh, he said, that’s right. A nice little volumetric exercise.

He reached over and unpinned her hair.

This is a very crazy thing to do, she said.

Which is crazier? he said. This, or not this?

She must have been smiling, because he’d laughed. What a skeptic, he’d said. So, it’s a risk, yes? Okay, but a risk of what? Look, here’s the alternative, we meet, we like each other, we say hello, we say goodbye. Now there’s an actual risk. That’s pure recklessness. We’re scared—is that so bad? Because when you’re scared, you can be pretty sure you’re on to something.

She remembers a sudden, panicked sensation that something was wrong, and then all her relief because it was only the ring—she wasn’t wearing her dime store ring.

It’s pretty clear, he was saying, the things people know about each other in an instant are the important things. But all right, let’s say the important things aren’t everything. Let’s say the unimportant things count, too—even a lot. The point is, though, we can spend as long as we like learning those unimportant things about each other. We can spend years, if we want, or we can spend a few hours. If you want, I can bring you back here tomorrow. We can say goodbye now, if you want.

They watched each other, smiling faintly. The silence raced through her over and over.

Say the word, he’d told her, and you’re back where you were.

*  *  *  *  *

Past the gorge, where she went to swim sometimes with Nonie and Munsen, past the old foundry, past the quarry, the hills flowing around them, mile after mile, so little traffic on the highway, the sweet air pouring by and the sun ringing through the sky like trumpets. Then they were in the woods, among the woven streamers of sunlight and shadow. The dirt road was studded with rocks, and grooved, tossing her around as if she were on the high seas.

None of her drives in Nonie’s car had taken her in that direction, or nearly that far. There were no other people to be seen. Every leaf and twig signified, like a sound, or a letter of the alphabet.

By the way, she said, how did you know where to look for me last night?

Hey, he said. In a town that size?

*  *  *  *  *

Light brimmed and quivered through the leaves in trembling drops. All around was a faint, high, glittering sound. The cabin was a maze of light and shadow—all logs, with polished plank floors, and porches. And with the attic and lofts and little ladders and stairs, you hardly knew whether you were inside or up in a tree house.

There was running water, and there was even electricity, which he used mainly for the washing machine and the big freezer at the back. He brought her out past a group of sheds to the vegetable garden he’d been clearing and tending, and to the shiny little creek. If you walked into the woods, within just a couple of minutes you couldn’t even see the cabin. When the sun began to set they came back, and he showed her how to light the kerosene lanterns and the temperamental little dragon of a stove.

There was a lot of game in the freezer, Eli said; hunters often gave him things. But he’d kept it simple tonight—for all he knew, she might be the fainthearted sort.

He had opened a bottle of rich red wine and they ate wonderful noodles, with mushrooms from the woods and herbs, and a salad from the garden. He watched, with evident satisfaction, her astonishment at the bright, living flavors.

You have to live like this to taste anything like this, he said. Streamline yourself. Clear away the junk. Prepare for an encounter.

But anyhow, she’d said, and in the stillness she’d felt like a dancer, balancing—I’m not fainthearted.

*  *  *  *  *

How on earth was she accounting in those first hours, she wonders now, for the baby she had seen at the bar with Eli?

Well, if she’d thought of too many questions out front, she’d probably still be rotting away in that little town, living in somebody’s spare room. She’d been in no position at that moment to be thinking of the sort of questions whose answers are, Go back to sleep.

They were finishing off the bottle of wine when he explained that his partner Hollis and Hollis’s girlfriend, Liz, were taking care of Noah right now, as they did from time to time. It was all kind of improvisational, not ideal, but Zoe had been erratic and moody, so anyhow it was an improvement over that situation.

He rested his hand on her neck, and stars shot from it. If it had been up to her, the dishes would have stayed in the sink till morning—till winter. But Eli just held her against him for a blinding moment. Here’s some of that new stuff to learn about me, he said. I am very, very disciplined.

*  *  *  *  *

And what had she been dreaming about that first morning? She was hidden behind something. Something was about to happen to someone very far away, who was her. There were showers of burning debris. The noise that woke her came into the dream as an alarm, she thinks, but it all dissolved like a screen over the morning light, and there was Eli lying next to her, his eyes still closed, shadows of leaves moving across him like a rich, patterned cloak.

A mechanical growl was pushing through the racket of birds and leaves. She peered out and a mottled green truck came into view The sun must have been up for some time—it was so bright! The door of the truck slammed, and Eli groaned. Hollis, he said, and opened his eyes.

She wrapped herself around him, but he kissed her, untangled himself, and drew his jeans on. There were dogs barking. Powder! T-bone! someone yelled. Down!

Well, they’re here, Eli said, and tossed her dress to her.

She’d watched from the top of the stairs as Liz transferred the baby over to him. The baby whimpered, and Eli put him on his shoulders.

A cigarette dangled from Hollis’s mouth, and a line of smoke swayed up past his gray eyes. Would you mind kindly keeping that shit out of the house, please? Eli said. And away from my kid in general?

Hollis pinched the cigarette out with his fingers and flicked it through the door. So how about some coffee? he said.

The dogs were milling and bumping at things. Don’t rush me, don’t rush me, Eli said. He stretched, then, and reached over to tousle Hollis’s floppy brown hair. I just got up.

Hollis inclined his head. Impressive, he said. Outstanding.

They’d looked like a tribe, Hollis and Liz and Eli, tall and slouchy and elastic. She sat on the stairs, rags of her dream still clinging to her, until he called for her.

*  *  *  *  *

It was Hollis who tracked down the guns and kept on top of the orders and sales. Because this guy’s too pure in heart to have a computer in his place, Hollis had said, tilting back to appraise her.

No phone line, Eli said, unruffled.

My point, Hollis said to her. So I’m stuck with it. He shook his head. Too fucking poetic, this guy.

You are so jealous, Liz told Hollis, sliding her hand inside the back of his jeans.

*  *  *  *  *

The good weather continued, and there was the garden and clearing away the persistent brush. There was plenty else, too, —cleaning, and dealing with the wood for the stove, and endless laundry.

Mostly, of course, there was Noah. Eli was doing a lot of things to the cabin, and the wood chips and splinters and chemicals were flying around everywhere. And there were always tools, and work on the guns going on in the sheds.

You’ve really got to watch him every second, Eli said. And I mean every second.

It was true; if she turned around for a second he’d have gotten himself over to the stove or the door or a pail of something. So she watched and she watched. But at night, when Noah was asleep, she had Eli to herself and that was well worth the trouble of the day, and more.

*  *  *  *  *

Usually, it was he who cooked. Sometimes just vegetables, but sometimes rabbit or venison or little birds. Often, as evening came, the sky turned greenish—a dissipating, regretful color.

She remembers his voice coming through that color from outside, asking her to get the stove going. But when he came in almost a half an hour later, she hadn’t managed. I’m sorry, she said. How tired she used to get, back at the beginning! And she’d actually started to cry.

He looked at her and sighed. Here, he said. I’ll show you again.

*  *  *  *  *

Sometimes the woods shook and flared with thunder and lightning. The deer came crashing through the trees. Way down in the valley the little foxes jumped straight up from the grass. Sometimes, walking near the creek with Eli, Noah on his shoulders or back, she would hear just a little whisper or rustle somewhere, or there would be a streak in the corner of her eye. Are there snakes? she asked.

He folded his arms around her and explored her ear with his tongue. Not to worry. They won’t bother you unless you do something to stir them up.

*  *  *  *  *

At first Noah would go rigid when she tried to hold him. He’d swat at her if she bent down for him, and he’d scream when it seemed he thought Eli was in earshot.

And then Eli had to come in from outside and hold him or swing him around while she looked on. There we go, Eli would say when Noah calmed down. And sometimes he’d go back out hardly looking at her.

Noah was still only a baby then, but every day he was looking more like a little boy; every day he figured out new ways to resist and defeat her.

Just pick him up like a big ham, Eli said. Look. Like this, right, Noah?

He smiled at her as he went out, but later he’d taken her by the shoulders and looked at her very seriously. I know it’s hard, he said. But you’ve got to start taking some more responsibility around here. She averted her face as he leaned over to kiss her; she’d just sneaked a cigarette.

*  *  *  *  *

It was early on that they talked about Zoe. She wasn’t ready, Eli said; it wasn’t her fault. In fact, there was a lot that was his fault, really a lot, he hated to think about it. But anyhow, it was just the way she was constituted—she lacked courage. She was always dissatisfied. And she always would be, because she didn’t have the courage to face the fact that what happens to you is largely of your own choosing.

He turned back, then, to whatever it was he’d been doing. But she was still listening, she remembers; something was still flickering in what he’d said.

Does she want to see Noah? She’d asked after a moment.

That’s not a possibility, he said. His back was to her.

She was willing to leave her kid, he said. And that one’s on her.

*  *  *  *  *

Noah isn’t sounding so good. She can hear him snuffling from the kitchen. She goes to check. He’s a bit sweaty—maybe Alma’s right, that he’s got a little fever. But little kids get sick all the time. Anyhow, what makes Alma the authority? The hospital she works at is for crazy people, not for little kids.

Tomorrow she’ll get him some kind of treat—a fuzzy doggie toy, maybe. Or something. Not that there’s money to burn.

*  *  *  *  *

She remembers once trying chocolate syrup in his milk, trying a story, promising maybe a trip into town later with Eli, but Noah still whining and crying hour after hour. All right, that’s it, you behave now, she’d said. Or you’re going right in your crib and you’re not going to be seeing that bottle of yours anytime soon.

He let out a little yelp of fury.

Fine, then, scream, she said. Go ahead and scream. Just cry until you melt yourself away for all I care. You know he’s not going to hear you out there over all that noise. They’d stared at each other. He is not going to hear you.

She turned away from him and opened one of Eli’s books. When she glanced back Noah was still standing there, looking at her. What? she said.

He’d wobbled for a moment on his feet, and then plopped down on his rear end, crying again.

*  *  *  *  *

Eli went into town to get supplies and took Noah with him. To give her a break, he said.

She’d listened to the truck heaving itself out on the rutted road. It was the first time she’d been truly alone in the cabin for more than a few minutes. Sunlight and silence shimmered down through the leaves all around it. In the sparkling dimness the floor shone like a lake. All around her there was a tingling quiet. She shivered, then sat very still, to enter it.

It was like a garden, or park, that opened out forever. Peaceful, clever animals, invisible in the abundance, paused to take note of her. She had found her way, through patience and good fortune.

How’s it been going—Eli said, when he returned, looking around at the cabin. She’d finished the dishes and tidied up.—Any lions or tigers?

*  *  *  *  *

Hollis’s green truck pulled up, waking her. The sheets still noted Eli’s place, but they were cold. She’d watched from a window upstairs. The dogs were huffing and circling in back, and Hollis and Liz got out. Eli was carrying Noah. He handed Noah over to Liz. He called something up to Kristina, and then he and Hollis got into Eli’s truck and pulled back out onto the dirt road.

She heard Liz downstairs with Noah. After a while she came down herself. Hi, Liz said. Eli told me you might want some help with Noah today.

Oh, thanks, she’d said. But we’ll be fine.

That’s okay, Liz said, flopping herself down on the couch. Just toss me out when you get sick of me.

*  *  *  *  *

Sorry not to have given you a heads-up, Eli said later. But we had an unexpected opportunity. To do an errand for your old pal, Frank.

Frank, she said. What did Frank want?

He’s into Mausers these days, I’m sorry to tell you. He had his tender heart set on a 1944 Kreigsmodell, and we just happened to come across one at a reasonable price. Oh, give me the sweet old American revolver guys any day. Or the Derringer guys, or the Winchester guys. Anyone at all—the Finnish military model guys. I’ve got to admit it’s not necessarily a super high IQ clientele, but Frank is special. It’s amazing he hasn’t already blown his brains out by mistake.

Frank! To think of the way that freak had gotten her to scurry around. Like a rabbit! She’d let out a little whoop.

What, Eli said. Oh, right—like how would anyone know if he had.

*  *  *  *  *

I don’t really need Liz to come help, she said the next time he’d had to go off for the day.

He’d looked at her. It doesn’t hurt to have reinforcements, he said. And I’ll have her bring any stuff you might need from town.

*  *  *  *  *

The leaves were truly turning when she first went back into town with Eli. The cycle of the year had locked tight, but she’d slipped out in time.

Past the quarry and the foundry and the gorge, into the painted, prissy town. She’d lived there only months ago, and yet it didn’t look like a real place any longer—it just looked like a picture of a place.

She cast her mind back and saw Zoe—the way Zoe had looked carrying Noah, gliding and regal.

Want me to carry you? she said. Noah protested, but Eli slung him onto her back.

He was heavy, and she had to cede him to Eli pretty soon, but for a while as they went about their errands, buying food and batteries and seeds, she felt, in the weight of him, her elevated station. And when they went to the diner for lunch, people she had barely spoken to in the old days came over to admire him.

They went to one of the fancy tourist stores, and Eli picked out two dresses for her. Back in the truck, with Noah settled on her lap, she felt in the bag at the slippy, lovely fabric.

Anything you particularly want to do before we head home? Eli said.

Home. The way she had lived at Nonie and Munsen’s—like a little animal! I bet Nonie and Munsen would enjoy seeing Noah, she said.

Are you saying you’d like to stop by there now? he said.

She’d glanced at him, then shrugged. We’re here.

He was looking at her steadily. Do you want to see them?

It’s been awhile, she said.

All you have to say, he said. All you have to say is that you’d like to see them.

But neither Munsen’s car nor Nonie’s was out in front.

Well, too bad, Eli said.

*  *  *  *  *

Eli had so many books. How nice it had been to take them down from the shelves and look at them. In the one about the ocean, the prettiest fish imaginable hovered so weightlessly you could almost see them moving—rising, lingering, darting down with the flick of a tail. And the gorgeous plants and flowers around them were really other animals.

How did he get out? Eli was saying. He was in front of her, holding his machete in one hand and Noah by the other, and rage was flashing off him in sheets, like lightning. It was just luck I didn’t kill him with this.

She was still shaking when Eli returned outside. She could hardly stand. Her hand was clamped around Noah’s shoulder. If you want something you come to me, do you hear? she told him, her voice tight. You come to me. You do not go outside to bother your father. Try some stunt like that again and I’ll—I don’t know what I’ll do—

*  *  *  *  *

On rainy days when Eli wasn’t working, she curled up against him while he read out loud. Noah curled up at his other side, or played quietly nearby. Eli read from books about history or animals or the earth and other planets. The world was living and breathing, each bit in its place. When the weather was good the three of them played together in the woods.

*  *  *  *  *

Whenever Eli went away for the day, Liz came in her pickup, and stayed on and on. Noah would go rigid with joy when the big, patient dogs, with their amazing tails and fur and tongues came huffling toward him through the door, but Kristina set herself to endure some bad hours.

Sometimes for days afterward, Kristina felt like a swan that had gotten caught in an oil slick—sticky and polluted, not fit to be near Eli. How could he deal with Liz? Her loudness, her opinions about every pointless thing, her gossipy chattering, the way she made everything ordinary … Eli had shrugged: she was an old, old friend, there was a lot of history, she was as loyal as a person could be …

Noah was making his way toward them, holding his empty bottle. Hey, Noah—Liz said. You’re really getting that locomotion thing down! Wow, I can’t believe how fast he’s growing, look at him. Noah! she grabbed him up and tickled him, blowing hard into his hair.

Kristina remembers watching as Noah exploded into giggles.

Does he still cry for Zoe all the time? Liz said, when Noah had run back to the dogs.

For Zoe? she’d said.

Wow, it used to be Mama, Mama, Mama the whole fucking time, Liz said. Poor little sweetie. It used to drive Eli nuts.

I guess he’s forgotten about her, she’d said.

That’s great, good for you, she was a major pain, if you ask me, Liz had said, Miss Too Gorgeous for this World. I always felt like smacking her myself, to tell you the truth. She didn’t appreciate what she had in Eli. Eli’s intense, so what? He’s got his own way of looking at things. He’s more evolved than other people. Plus, he gave her everything. He was fucking great to her, and he put up with her shit a long, long time before he even began to lose patience. Liz was holding one of the dish towels, creasing it absently and fiercely.

They’ve been gone so long, Kristina remembers saying. Did they say when they were planning to get back?

Oh, you never know with those two, Liz said. She tossed the towel onto the table. They take their time with the custom work. Of course that’s why they’ve got such a great reputation, obviously. Hollis can find just about anything, and Eli can convert just about anything. He’s got great hands. She pushed her hair back and eased a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Great, great hands … . She lit a cigarette and inhaled, closing her eyes.

Kristina watched her for a while. Liz—she’d said, and her voice came out fuzzy. Can I take one of those?

Help yourself. Liz opened her eyes; she’d sounded almost angry. I won’t tell.

*  *  *  *  *

The next time Eli and Hollis went off, Noah played happily with the dogs while Liz talked on, but then suddenly Liz exclaimed, and put her hands to her forehead.

Are you okay? Kristina asked.

Sorry, Liz said. I’ve been getting these crucifying migraines.

Do you want to lie down? she’d asked. Then her breath caught for a moment. Do you want to leave?

Would you mind? Liz said. You don’t have to mention to Eli it was so early, though. But if I don’t get out of here fast, basically, I’m not going to be able to drive till probably tomorrow.

*  *  *  *  *

That afternoon, with Liz and the dogs gone so early, no matter how often Kristina explained that Eli was coming back soon, Noah cried and fussed, swatting at her with his little hands.

You’d be less cranky if you ate something, she said. What about some applesauce?

No, Noah said.

Well, then, a graham cracker. Don’t you like your graham crackers anymore?

No, he said.

Such a tiny word. Such a tiny voice.

Do you know how furious your father’s going to be if I have to tell him you refused to eat one single thing all day? Do you know how angry he’s going to be with you? Are you going to make me tell him?

He looked at her, swaying a bit on his feet. Bad Kissy, he said.

Not bad me, bad you! Bad you! Do you want me to smack you? Because I’m just about ready to.

Bad Kissy, he said. Bad Kissy.

Don’t you talk to me like that! Don’t you look at me like that! Do you think I like picking up after you all day? And getting you your food when you do deign to eat? And cleaning up all your mess? I know you don’t like having me around. And do you know what? I think I’ve just about had it with you! One more sassy word and I’m going to walk right out that door, and you’ll just have to take care of yourself. Now, you eat your graham cracker this minute, or I’m out of here.

But then he was screaming and kicking and banging his head against the wall.

It was the moment; it was their chance, and thank God she’d recognized that. But just remembering the struggle, she starts to sweat—scooping him up and trying to hold him still, and all the time he was kicking at her and screaming. And clinging to her so fiercely she could hardly get him over to the sofa to sit down with him.

It must have been over an hour that she was holding on to him before he was calm enough for her to speak. All right then, Noah, she said.

He had gone limp. She held him steadily on her lap and broke the graham cracker in half. She wouldn’t let him avoid her eyes.

I’m not going to leave you alone, she said. Listen to me. This is a promise. I am not going to leave you alone.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, and he hiccuped.

They watched each other as she ate her half of the cracker. She nodded, and held the other half of the cracker out to him. Slowly, gulping back the last of his sobs, still watching her, he chewed it laboriously down.

When Eli returned, Noah was still in her lap, asleep. Where’s Liz? he said.

You just missed her, she said.

Huh, Eli said. And this one—trouble?

She rested her cheek against Noah’s springy hair and tightened her hold on him for a moment before handing him over. No, she said. No trouble.

*  *  *  *  *

The cold came and kept them frequently inside. Eli was working in the shed a lot, and from time to time he’d have to take a trip or go to a show with Hollis. When they were away, Liz arrived for the daylight hours. When her truck finally pulled away, darkness folded in over the cabin.

*  *  *  *  *

When Eli was home, he was quiet. He read to Noah, and when he grew tired of it he turned to his own reading. He was looking a little pale, she’d thought. Eli? she said.

What’s that? he’d said, pausing on his way up to the loft.

She shook her head: nothing.

Noah pined and clamored for his friends the dogs. Shh, she told him, and took him where he could play without disturbing Eli.

Once in a while a car would pull up, and some man or other would get out and Eli would take him around back to the sheds. She stayed upstairs then with Noah.

While Noah played with the blocks Eli had made him, she watched out the window as the men returned to their trucks or cars and headed off to the hills, or the hills beyond them, or the hills and cities beyond those—glinting pins springing up on the map.

And she watched Noah as he concerned himself with the blocks or with his crayons. Playing, it was called—the deep, sweet concentration, the massive effort to familiarize himself with the things of the world. Can she remember that, being so little herself, being so lost? Probably Alma had already been around, looking out for her, but she can’t find a trace of that time in her mind. It was her basis, and yet it was gone.

Want me to carry you? she’d ask, and he’d raise up his little arms to her. She held him as he woke from his naps, and felt the damp heat coming off his gold skin and little ringlets. He snuggled against her, and in an attic dark area of her sleeping thoughts, things clarified for a moment, and aligned.

He never fussed anymore. He had made his choice; he had forgotten.

Sometimes Kristina felt Zoe hovering nearby, drawn by her need, watching along with her as Noah played. But Noah never even looked up.

Yes, he had surely forgotten. Poor little thing—he was a prisoner.

*  *  *  *  *

Are you not talking to me? Eli said one day.

Not talking to you? she said. She looked up. He was sitting across the room, looking at her. The book he’d been reading was closed, resting on his lap.

You don’t seem to be talking to me.

You were reading, she said.

Now I’m not reading, he said.

She looked at him for a clue. Is there something you want me to talk about?

He sighed and opened his book again, but a moment later he looked up at her again. You’re happy, he said.

Yes, she said. He seemed to be gazing back at her sadly from some time in the future. I’m happy.

Well, good, then. He walked over to her and stroked the back of her neck, looking at her thoughtfully. He kissed her temple and then he returned to his book.

*  *  *  *  *

He picked up some yeast for her in town. She baked bread the way Nonie had showed her to, and the companionable aroma brought Nonie to visit.

She remembers the way she imagined showing Nonie around the cabin. It was as if she were unfolding it and spreading it out flat, like a map, so she could see all of it at once herself.

*  *  *  *  *

How’s Eli these days? Liz said.

Fine, she’d said.

Well, I’m glad one of them is keeping it together, Liz said. Hollis is fried. But everything always happens all at once, doesn’t it.

I guess, Kristina had said.

Well, but I mean what kind of dickhead doesn’t back up the files? Liz said. I guess that genius they found, I hate to think where, is still saying he can resurrect the hard drive, but who believes that’s going to happen? And anyhow, who cares, it’s the thing with that Coffield lunatic, obviously, that’s really putting him around the bend.

Yes? Kristina said. The room darkened for a moment, and she’d sat down.

Well, it’s sure getting enough attention. Eli must have told you. You literally can’t turn on the TV for one second without seeing the pictures. God, those kids must have been cute! With that red hair?

Kristina had let out a little sound.

But they don’t usually go after the source, Liz said. Unless like it’s a kid putting holes in his parents or at school, something like that. And anyhow, according to Hollis for whatever that’s worth, he did check the guy out, and there was no history.

*  *  *  *  *

Sleet coated the trees and power lines, and froze. For a day or two the woods were shining glass, and the branches snapped and fell under the weight of the ice. Nights were mostly bundled up in silence; you could hear the world breathing in its sleep. When she closed her eyes, she’d see the animals outside in the stark, brilliant moonlight, huddled, or wandering for food—the foxes and the deer, the badgers and the possums and the pretty black bear. The stars overhead contracted in the cold. From bed she could watch them oscillating with intensified light, as if they were about to burst into sharp, glittering fragments.

*  *  *  *  *

Is everything all right? she asked him.

Fine, he said.

Can I help with anything?

Can you help? he said. Can you do a conversion with a broken drill press on a 1911 automatic while some drooling trog breathes down your neck?

*  *  *  *  *

She went into town with him, and when they passed the old house, both cars were out front. Would you like to drop by? he asked.

I don’t really care, she said.

It might be nice for you, he said. You probably miss your friends.

She reached over and stroked his beautiful hair. He could drop her and Noah off, she suggested, while he did errands.

We’re in no rush, he said. I’ll go in with you.

Nonie was practically a sphere. She greeted Kristina with a little shriek of joy, and cried a bit.

How fussy the kitchen looked to Kristina now, with its shiny appliances and painted walls.

Nonie cut up pieces of her bread with homemade jam for everyone, and Munsen took a couple of beers from the fridge. Eli? he said.

No, thanks, Eli said.

Kristina?

Not for me, either, Munsen—thanks.

Munsen put one bottle back and opened the other for himself. Well, better a full bottle in front of me than a prefrontal lobotomy, he said, ruefully. Then he set Noah on his lap, and while Nonie recounted goings on at The White Rabbit, which were exactly the same old thing, it seemed, Munsen told Noah the true-life adventures of a lonely bottle of beer.

What a fuss Nonie made over Noah! He’s going to have a friend, soon, she said.

Kristina had glanced at Eli. He was standing, leaning against the door with his head bowed.

Nonie gave Noah one of the soft little rag dolls she’d made for her own baby, with a little plastic ring in its navel. Noah looked at it with great seriousness, and then rubbed it against his cheek. He looked up at Nonie, who laughed happily and knelt down to give him a squeeze.

So little real time had passed, but she might as well have spent it living at the bottom of the sea with its creaturely landscape, or on the white polar tundras. And all the while Nonie and Munsen had been confined to the little painted town. Goodbye, she thought. Goodbye.

They had almost reached the cabin when Eli finally spoke. That is one inane guy, he said. I wonder how your friend can stand having him around.

*  *  *  *  *

The next morning, Kristina couldn’t find Noah’s new rag doll anywhere.

She was searching through a heap of laundry for it when she realized Eli was in the doorway, watching her. Everything okay? he said.

She turned and they looked at one another. Fine, she said.

*  *  *  *  *

Look, I’ve got to go away tomorrow for a few days, Eli said. But Liz will come over during the days and help.

Eli, she said.

What?

Eli, she said again.

What? he said. Speak to me.

Do you have to go?

Yes, he said. Obviously. Yes, I have to go.

Eli, can’t I come with you?

And do what with him?

Bring him along. Can’t we come?

No, you cannot come.

Why not?

Why not? It goes without saying why not.

She was twisting one of Noah’s little T-shirts in her hands, she realized. But maybe I could be helpful.

Maybe you could, he said. Maybe you could bring a little sunshine into the lives of some lonely gun collectors.

She looked at him, but he was sealed up tight. But don’t send Liz at least, please.

Fine, he said. No Liz. And you’ll do what for food? You’ll do what if you need something? You don’t have a phone. You don’t have a car.

If you’re worried about us, we could go stay with Nonie and Munsen.

With Nonie and Munsen, he said. Would you be happier there?

It’s just—she was saying, and then all she really remembers is her surprise, as if his fists were a brand-new part of his body.

*  *  *  *  *

A little blood was coming from somewhere; she’d felt something on her face, then checked her hand. There was some blood in her mouth, too. Was that tooth going to come out? she’d wondered idly.

She heard the bare branches clacking together outside in a slight breeze. Then he picked her up from where she’d fallen back.

She remembers Noah’s eyes, enormous and blurry-looking. He was sucking at his blanket as Eli carried her upstairs.

*  *  *  *  *

He postponed his trip for a few days and stayed with her, curled up next to her in the loft, holding her hands, looking through his books with her. He taught her the names of all the little birds that lived in the leaves around them. He brought her meals on a tray. Noah played quietly downstairs, and sometimes Eli brought him up to be with her. He’d wake her urgently in the night, and after they made love, he kissed her ankles, her toes, her fingertips. Whatever barrier had been between them was gone now, completely.

She stroked his thick, coarse hair. She can feel it under her hand now—almost feel it. Sometimes as he slept she ran her hands over his beautiful face. Poor Eli. He lived with danger all the time.

*  *  *  *  *

It wasn’t long before the swelling went way down, and she could get around pretty comfortably, as well. The day he left, she found a tube of makeup out on the bureau. Evidently he’d picked it up in town, for the bruises.

*  *  *  *  *

She’s sure there were marks but nothing too conspicuous by the time she’d finished applying it. She watched carefully for Liz’s expression when she opened the door in her sunglasses.

She’s reviewed it so often she’s worn away the original, but she knows perfectly well what it was.

She saw Liz register the sunglasses, the masked bruises. She saw Liz politely covering her surprise. And then she saw the thing that she had hoped so fervently that she would not see: she saw that Liz was not very surprised at all.

*  *  *  *  *

What did they talk about that morning? Not Eli, that’s for sure. Or Hollis, or themselves. They did not, of course, allude to Zoe, though Kristina felt Zoe’s volatile essence, as a slight trembling in the air. Eventually, she remembers, Liz began leafing through some trashy magazine she’d brought in with her and paused to study the picture of two pretty faces, empty of anything except a pitiful falseness. They broke up! she exclaimed, looking up at Kristina. Can you believe it? How sad is that!

*  *  *  *  *

It was the next day—the second of the three he was to be gone—that Zoe’s sorrowing angel spirit passed her hand across Liz’s brow, and Liz winced, pressing her hand to her eyes.

And there it was. The opportunity that was as clear as a command. For a moment Kristina had just stood there.

Migraine? she had asked then quietly. Want to go home and lie down?

*  *  *  *  *

It was a hard trip into town, and of course you always had to worry about who it was who would stop. But thank heavens it wasn’t raining, at least. Feel better, she’d called to Liz, waving from the door as the pickup pulled out, and then as fast as humanly possible, she’d thrown a few necessities for Noah and a change of clothing for herself into her satchel. It wasn’t heavy, but progress down the muddy road out to the highway was arduous; something in her side still hurt a lot when she tried to carry Noah.

*  *  *  *  *

Hey, it’s you, Nonie said when she opened the door. And then her smile was gone. Wuh! Take off those sunglasses for a moment, girl.

Noah let himself be transferred over, and clung to Nonie as she put juice into a bottle for him. Come see the baby, she said.

The baby was red and gummy. Could Noah ever have looked like that? That’s incredible, Kristina said.

*  *  *  *  *

So, could Nonie and Munsen manage with one car, she’d asked? She could give them over a thousand dollars for Nonie’s. She hadn’t spent so much as a dime the whole time she’d been with Eli, she realized; he’d taken care of her completely.

Well, you could pay me down the line somewhere, Nonie said. But I’m not really sure I want to know you’ve got it, if you see what I mean.

That was a good point.

I guess you could report it stolen, Kristina had said. But maybe not for a while? And I guess I’ll have to figure out about changing the plates …

They’d looked at each other, frowning. Damn, Nonie said. You’d think a person would know how to steal her own car.

And for just a moment, Kristina remembered the way she’d felt sitting around that kitchen in the old days.

*  *  *  *  *

Dull moonlight sloshes around like rainwater in the plastic over the window. Alma hasn’t come in yet. But Kristina’s just as glad to have had this time with Eli.

This afternoon, when Alma answered the door she looked silently for a moment at Kristina, with her bruises and the beautiful, dark child. Then she stood aside to let them in. Heaven knows what she thinks—she didn’t ask questions.

When Kristina was young she idolized Alma. It was Alma who looked out for her, and she never doubted for a moment that Alma would gladly take her in if the time came. It hardly matters now that it seems not to be the case. She looks around at Alma’s cheap, carelessly ugly place—home for nobody, really. Oh, those shining floors, that quiet, the breathing shadows! Will she ever see it again?

Noah coughs raspily in his sleep. She puts her hand to his hot forehead, and he opens his eyes, just for a moment.

Stolen car! Kidnapped child! How can those words mean her? The deer come crashing through the woods, Zoe holds her breath, Eli’s rage is all around them, the red net casting wide. What’s right outside? Keys hanging from the warden’s belt? The men with the guns? Just guns, or guns and badges …

No one looks at anyone—really completely looks—the way he looked at her. She never imagined, or even dared hope, that she would meet such a man or have such a time in her life. Better keep moving. New names, new histories, a nondescript room in a busy city where she’ll be able to lose herself and Noah. Watching, hiding, running—that way at least she’ll be with Eli for good.