There was a small cinder-block outbuilding at the back of the property, two manual garage doors, padlocked shut, multiple windows cracked or broken. Bobby hadn't made it back here, had spent most of his scavenging time in the larger mill building. Elmer unlocked the doors and handed Bobby the keys. Dust swirled in the fading sunlight, and underneath some crates of rusted engine parts and old oil cans was the unmistakable shape of a Ford Falcon in baby blue, a white stripe on each side, front to back.

“That car was really something, in its day,” Elmer said. He was shifting again, one leg to another, almost on tiptoes, a joyful shuffle. “Thought your mom and I could be your first customers.”

Bobby felt his eyes well up. It was too much, this parental charity. It felt like something dangerous, though Bobby couldn't even tell himself why. He ran his hand along the Falcon.

Elmer stopped shuffling, furrowed his brow. “Unless you got something else lined up, of course.”

Bobby knew Elmer knew he didn't. What Bobby wanted were jobs that didn't come from Elmer, or through him, but he couldn't turn any job down, so he worked to master the lump in his throat. “Of course, Dad. It's a great car.”

“You get me an estimate, okay? We're paying.”

Bobby pushed both hands into his forehead, tried to pull the skin tight. “No, Dad, that's too much. Just let me do it.”

A V-formation of geese flew overhead, heading east, not south, their insistent honking a tremendous racket.

“You think those geese are just temporarily confused?” Bobby asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you think they're just flying east, like, today? Like they're going to stop off in Johnstown for whatever reason and then head south? Or has something messed with their instinct and they've forgotten, completely, that they're supposed to go south?” Bobby wondered about instinct. Was it magic or science, the way a goose knew when it was time to move on, the way a goose knew which direction to go?

“Geese don't forget shit,” Elmer said. “They just go south or they don't.”

Bobby nodded. “Dad, I appreciate this, I do. I just worry that I'll never get back to wiping my own ass, you know?”

Elmer put a hand on his shoulder. “Ridiculous. It's just a rough patch, son. They come and they go.” Bobby didn't say anything, so Elmer clapped his shoulder a few times. “We better get in for dinner.”

They walked toward the office Amy had turned into their home. The mountains, so close to sunset, had turned a deeper shade of blue than the sky.