Three times a week: lessons at the dojo, ninety minutes long. By the end of them, I won’t be able to stand up, let alone focus.

In between, of course, I have to mow Della’s grass, look after Cassie, and stay out of Floyd’s way.

*

PROBLEM IS, I can’t. Stay out of his way, I mean. He won’t let me. The day after my first lesson, he starts a mock boxing match with me in the living room in front of Opal and Cassie. Although he’s laughing and joking, his punches are mean, the placement ugly. I don’t defend myself. It’s too soon.

Cassie is cowering in her chair, her eyes wide with terror. I duck behind the armchair. “I give up,” I say, raising my hands, chest exposed. “You win.”

“I always win, kiddo,” he says and draws back his fist again.

“Opal, tell him I surrender.”

She says, “Stop it, Floyd. It’s not funny.”

She’s frowning at him. He stops. I take Cassie by the hand and we go upstairs.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake with a start. Rain’s pounding on the roof like the entire Canadian army is on the march. My bedroom door is open. I always shut the door before I go to bed. Always.

The wind’s up. Branches scrabble against the windowpane. I lie still, gazing into the darkness.

*

NEXT MORNING Floyd orders me to cut the grass. “But it rained last night,” I say.

“Your point is?”

“It’s supposed to dry up today. I’ll cut it tomorrow.”

He bounces on the balls of his feet. “You obey me—that’s the correct order of the pronouns. Cut the grass today.”

I want to smash my fist into the smirk on his face. Cutting wet grass is a pain in the ass. He knows this. So do I. I go outside, haul the mower out of the garage, and fill the tank with gas. By the time I’m done, I’m soaked in sweat.

After I shower, I make sandwiches and load my backpack with juice packs and a couple of books. Cassie stuffs Theodore Tugboat, her farm animals, and Rover in her pink carryall, Rover’s head flopping over the edge so he can see where we’re going. His white stripe is a grimy gray.

Separating him and Cassie long enough to put him through the washer and dryer requires courage, stamina, and two deaf ears.

We walk along the river trail to the shack. After we float Theodore in the river, we sit at the table (same Sesame Street tablecloth plus a red candle on a saucer) and munch egg salad sandwiches and Oreos.

I’ve brought two more pillows from the linen cupboard. We lie on the bunk while I read to her from Thidwick, The Big-Hearted Moose. We doze off.