Connie said, “Up to the house.” And looked at Norman as if just thinking of something. She half turned and looked back at him. “You don’t look like I remember.”

He nodded. “You’ve grown some too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He nodded again, both brother and sister using this time to take measure of the other, recognizing each as familiar stranger to be learned anew, some parts of each never to be glimpsed. Norman strove for the ordinary, some tentative linkage to all that lost. “You making cider?”

“Getting ready. Pressed some last week a little too rough. Sheep liked the pomace though.”

“Jug of cider’s about the only thing I can think of that might clear all this road out of my throat.”

She grinned. “You’ll have to help then.” And glanced again at Leah.

Norman said, “I believe I recall how to crank a press.”

“You’ll want some dinner first.”

“About anything.”

“I could run help get things started.”

“Sure,” he said. “You do that. Carry your news along with you.”

“You home is news enough.” Her eyes cut once more to Leah; then she turned and flew up the road.

“So tell me Norman. That the easy part?”

“I guess,” he said. “She didn’t intend meanness. You’re a shock. You have to allow that for folks. Otherwise you’ll just be disappointed every time.”

They went a little ways and Leah said, “Tell me you love me,” and he did and she reached to take his hand. Norman took stock of the sheep in one high meadow, of the milk cows in higher grass of better pasture close to the barn and also of the broken axle off the wagon that sat upright against it like no one knew what to do next. There were other things, simple benign neglect adding up in his mind, an accounting freed of blame, more in the nature of inventory. Halfway to the house he felt her fingers begin to slip from his and he took a firm grip to hold her there beside him. He thought her only nervous and when she wrapped his hand tight with hers he thought she was fine again. He did not look at her. And so could not see the fear pass over her face or the swift knowing that ran through her, that the woman in the house ahead of her would take one look and read the weakness there that trembled constant as water running, the pith of despair and turmoil of her soul. She said nothing. Together they skirted the front of the house around to the side entry through the long woodshed and small toolshop into the kitchen, where he knew his mother and sister both waited. Leah walked alongside him.