“Yeah, you keep saying that,” she says, sounding annoyed enough to make him stop talking.

A silence falls between them for a time and there is nothing in the night except the wind chimes over on Bell’s porch. Then, far down the street toward the Hemingway House, there is the whine of a scooter motor.

“Your little boy is a handsome one,” Evona says, sounding more sober. She splashes another drink into her glass, then drains the entire thing in one long slide. “He’s different, though. I can tell.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s like a little old man. In a good way.” A silence. The scooter is gone, now, out of earshot. Only the wind chimes. “Like he knows things he’s not old enough for yet.”

Asher doesn’t know what to say because she has captured Justin in a way he has never been able to say out loud.

“I didn’t mean any offense.”

“It’s alright.”

“God, if you say that again, I’ll scream.” She lets out one big laugh, then caps both hands over her mouth. “Shit! Did I say that out loud? Sorry. Sor-eeeee.” She collapses into laughter. Serious now: “I’m not a drunk. Alright? I only do this once in a blue moon. You got me?”

“Yes, I believe you.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“You feel me?” she says, laughing. She is cracking herself up. “You feel what I’m saying, Mister?”

“Yeah, but we need to quiet down a little.” She is having such a good time that he can’t help smiling.

“Alright then,” she says and nods, putting a finger against her lips in a shushing manner. She is barely able to keep her eyes open. “Let’s hush. Let’s listen.” She cocks her head like she is waiting for some perfect sound, but the night is silent. So she bursts out laughing again.

He reckons that last drink has finished her off. In fact, she is much more drunk than he had thought. She wears herself out laughing and then collapses against his leg, her body limp.

Asher hasn’t felt anybody against him in a long, long time. And he sure hasn’t felt anyone against him that he wanted there.

He stands and leans down to shake her shoulder. “Hey there,” he whispers. He takes note of the sadness that shapes her face. “Come on, now,” he says, quiet.

Evona’s eyes flutter open and focus on him. “What is it?”

“I’m gonna help you get to bed.”

She puts out one limp arm and he helps her stand so she can lean against him. She smells musky and sweet, the way hickory nuts smell when broken open in the woods of autumn. She smells like the woods back home.