She looked down the road as far as she could, drawing breath to see him coming back for her. His pale, yellow car was sleek in the rain. But when he passed her going fast the other way and all she could see was his two coyotequick eyes looking back for the briefest moment in the rearview mirror, she stopped still on the road, surprised, and laughed toward the dust-heaving juniper, smelling the rain-heavy longing of dirt in the lightning-cracked sky. She imagined the reflection of pondgrass in his chrome running boards, the quiet brown grass shining like water against the clear sun line, how she would sit in the passenger’s seat of his big lazy car and roll down the windows to thunder.

Harvey Stoner had swooped by once more and when he returned his tires split the rain-slick road as he stopped, and water sprayed her. He leaned across the smooth seat of his car and opened the passenger door. She slid into the seat as the hot sun cut through the clouds. Her dress was steaming wet. She didn’t have to talk to Harvey Stoner on the way to her grandmother’s house because they couldn’t stop laughing. Harvey Stoner had reached between the seat and pulled a beer from a tin box and had given it to her like a gift. She felt a lightness she had not felt for years, if she had ever felt this way. Harvey Stoner could take her far from here.

He drove on past her grandmother’s house before she had a chance to stop him. He drove so fast she felt the small muscles in her back tighten as the car pulled the curves. She felt wings lifting her belly. The rain could not hold to the windshield. Rain fanned from the windows. She had never ridden in a car that could charge the road with such speed. Harvey lifted the beer to his lips and flipped the ashtray open. He punched the lighter like he was performing some small magic. His ruby wedding ring flashed. But when the lighter popped back up he did not reach for it; instead he leaned forward and shifted in his seat.

“Take out my wallet there,” he said. “In my back pocket.”

Louise grabbed the wallet quickly. His wallet wasn’t slim. It didn’t shape to his buttocks like the wallet she had found in Baptiste’s pocket.

“Open it,” he said. She smiled to herself. His request was a familiarity she had never known and it made her feel both important and shy. She opened his wallet without looking at his money and placed it, straddled open, on his lap.