But if what the government said was true, why had Uncle Lemmy destroyed a herd of prize Holsteins? Why was my cousin Bethany in a hospital bed in the living room, dying of radiation poisoning?

Knowing what had happened to his herd, to his daughter, how could Uncle Lemmy ever pasture another cow here?

Coming back into the open, the fog engulfed me. It enveloped the farm. I leaned back against the rough wall of the barn, feeling the solid boards behind me. Gramp helped build these barns. Neither he nor Gran held a grudge against Aunt May. Their argument was with my father. My argument was with him too. He started all the leaving.

In the fog the whole world disappeared.

I forgot the warning not to run, I forgot I shouldn’t gulp in the air. I had to get back to the house. I needed to see Gran, rock steady in the middle of Aunt May’s living room.

Seventeen

Tuesday, after dinner, Mrs. Trent led Ezra, in his mask, out of his room and down the hall to the kitchen.

“Hi, Ezra,” I said.

Ezra hobbled straight past me. The trip down the hall hadn’t exhausted him as it had two days earlier. He used only one of Gramp’s canes this time.

“Is it still safe?” he asked.

I ran the detector in front of the windows, around the room.

Ezra didn’t collapse into a chair this time. He stayed on his feet and warmed his back at the stove.

“Doing better every day,” I said.

Ezra, staring right at me, removed his mask. Leaning on the cane, he limped over to the window, looked out into the blank night.

Then he turned back toward the kitchen, leaning comfortably against the sink. “Nice place,” he said. “You and your grandmother have a nice place.”

“Thanks. My grandfather did all the inside work. Gramp liked carpentry better than he liked sheep farming. My room upstairs, Gramp did that. I have a window seat and built-in shelves. You could come up and see if you’re strong enough to climb steps.”

Ezra poked his head through the door leading up to my bedroom. “I’ll try.”

Using the cane, he inched toward the upper landing, one slow step at a time, stopping every few moments to catch his breath. At the top he stepped aside, making room for me. I had followed behind, in case he fell. He rested on the landing, panting, leaning on the cane.

The puppy, inside for the night, followed us up the stairs. He put his paws on the quilt and barked at Bayley, asleep in the center of my mattress. Bayley shot to his feet, back arched, fur standing straight up on his spine. He hissed at the puppy and danced sideways for a step or two before streaking past us, down the stairs.

I caught the puppy before he tumbled down the steps after the cat.

Ezra got as far as my bed and sat down. The puppy put all his energy into finding an edge of my hand to gnaw on. I looked up to see Ezra eyeing my things. I wished for a collection of books like Muncie had in her room. Books had definitely been a part of Ezra’s life before the accident. My nests and rocks and pinecones probably didn’t interest him much.