“Not yet,” she said. Her eyes on him. “I need to take a bath. A long soak. I’m too wide awake to sleep but it’s going to hit me hard later on.” She went around him up onto the steps. Stopped there and leaned to kiss the top of his head. The smell of him the oldest constant thing she knew outside of herself. She said, “It’s going to rain. There’s not much to eat. Why don’t you put the top up on the Ford and when I’m done we can ride up early and eat some supper somewhere. I could eat a real meal. A bucket of steamers maybe. Or a beefsteak. Something like that.”

Then, the wind whipping down through the boughs again, flapping the tails of his shirt around her thighs, she went in through the screen door. He watched her go across the kitchen and out of sight into the bathroom. The sky was suddenly low and dark, the way storms dropped here. In minutes it would be raining, pouring water, the sky torn purple with lightning. He heard water running in the house behind him. Then it began to rain hard, slantwise. He walked out through it to the barn and put the top up on the car. Opened the passenger side door and looked around the seat and floorboard to make sure Alice had not dropped or left something. Removed a single long blond hair from the seatback. He was a little ashamed and angry at being found out without being found out. As if her innocence was worse than any knowledge. And did not trust her innocence either. Did not trust much. Was glad he had held on to Sloane, had not mentioned the name. It would’ve been easy. Not yet, he thought. The blond hair was wrapped around one finger. A thin ring of gold cut into his skin. Patience was the best weapon he knew. He unwrapped the hair and dropped it on the barn floor where it was lost in the old hay. He was hungry and liked the idea of going somewhere to eat before work. The bucket of steamers would be good. Little butter-soaked cunts. The rain was lashing in the door of the barn, thunder now right atop the trees, flattening the world. He thought of Joey in the bath, knew she’d have a candle lighted against the sudden dark afternoon. He advanced to the barn door and stood looking out, getting wet. His driver and the bucket of balls were still sitting, a puddle around where the bucket had filled and was overflowing. He took his trousers off and wadded them under one arm and ran naked through the iced snakes of rain toward the house. Up the steps and inside. Wet and cold. He dropped the pants on a kitchen chair and went into the bathroom. His skin prickling, tight. His prick out before him.