By the next day, Annie has formulated a plan. It calms her, placates her, almost excites her. She smiles at Georgia at breakfast. She even hands her a cup of coffee, black, and gets her an aspirin when she moans about a headache.

Mrs. Keller, who has taken another day off work, has agreed to take Georgia to town again. But the two laze about all morning, going back to bed, whining about their aching limbs and parched lips. This makes Annie’s plan harder to execute. But it also means that Suzy is hers again, at least for the time being.

It’s raining, the first major thunderstorm of the summer, and Suzy is enraptured by it. She presses her face against the window, eyes following the diagonal sheet of rain. Annie draws little pictures in the fog that Suzy’s breath leaves behind. Soon, they are under a blanket fort in the living room, the couch cushions barriers against the outside world. Annie shines a flashlight and reads to Suzy, who falls asleep before her nap time with her head on Annie’s knee.

The windowpanes shake, and the house is doused in darkness even though it’s only 1:00 p.m. Annie crawls through the fort, waking Suzy in the process. She lays her on the couch and covers her with a blanket, leaving a hand on her back as she sits beside her and lets her fall back asleep. She is so lost in the rhythm of Suzy’s breaths that she doesn’t notice when Georgia walks in, her hair knotted on top of her head, wearing a shirt with no bra and tiny shorts. Her toenails are painted orange.

“Oh damn, she’s asleep.” Georgia arches her foot against her calf, holding the wall for support. She is graceful, delicate but strong in her movements, like a feline. She glances around before lifting the top of her shirt, exposing a joint and lighter, tucked neatly in the elastic band of her shorts, the butt lying flat against her toned stomach.

She stretches her leg back, bending it and grabbing her foot, and plucks the joint with the fingers of her right hand. She puts her leg down. “Wanna join me?” She gestures to the back porch.

Annie slowly lifts her hand away from Suzy and rises, giving the toddler one more glance. She is sifting through sand as she follows Georgia out into the rain. Her feet feel heavy and fat, sweaty in her sneakers.

Outside, the couch and chairs are dry, protected by their position at the very back of the porch. The rain is violent, though. Whipping the bushes, tearing through the leaves on the sycamores that hug the lake. Georgia has to cup the joint as she lights it, the howling wind longing to swallow the flame.