But when he came in for dinner, they were still there. And there they remained as he washed off the day, as he thumbed the dirt off the potatoes, as he rationed tiny flecks of butter into the mash. His father still on the porch with them. All three talking quietly. The scribble of pencils louder than any voice.

~

Ned didn’t see Maggie until after dinner, after the bankers had left, after his father had drifted inside and gone straight to bed. She came in late, dirt on her clothes, dust in her hair. She moved stiffly, but pink heat glowed through the muck on her face. She looked alive, renewed. Ned did not need to ask to know that she’d been riding the mare.

He warmed some milk on the stove. ‘How was she?’

‘Bit cautious, bit slow. But steady. Healthy.’ Maggie ripped a hard corner of bread from an old loaf. ‘Thanks to old Telle.’

Ned stirred the milk.

Maggie worked her teeth through the crust. ‘And you.’

He felt his breath release, his shoulders unkink. Maggie was grinning through a mouthful of stale crumbs. He didn’t know what to say. There weren’t words that could fit his relief, his gratitude, his hot stab of love, so he just nodded. When the milk bubbled he switched off the stove and poured it into a mug for her.

‘Did you read Toby’s letter?’

‘The one you artfully left on the table for public consumption?’ Her grin fading. ‘Yes. Looks like it’ll be a while until we see him again.’

‘He’ll come back, though. He said he would.’

She blew at the milk. Her breath rippled its floating skin. ‘As long as he can stay out of trouble.’

‘Did Dad read it?’

‘One would assume.’

‘So he knows Toby’s all right.’

She took a sip. Exhaled. ‘Yes, Ned. We all know Toby’s all right.’

~

Later, Ned lay in bed waiting for the storm to break above them, for hard rain to attack the roof. But the sky stayed dry and silent. In the morning the clouds were still there, not having moved, or if they had, having changed shape and structure and colour in a way that mirrored the previous day’s ominousness. He considered beginning his trip to the mouth, but couldn’t go through with it, not with the sky the way it was.