“It’s bad enough that we had to borrow Frank’s generator,” Karen said.

“Okay, well then what about Mike?” I said. “He gave us that siding almost for free. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” Karen and Helen rolled their eyes at the same time.

“What’s so bad about asking for help?” I asked.

“Trust me,” Helen said. “You ask any of these guys around here for building tips, they’ll tell you how to hold a hammer.”

“They’ll tell you what a goddamn tape measure is,” Karen said. “I’m not doing it.”

“But we don’t know how to build a house,” I said. “This house is more like a kid’s fort.”

“We’re not asking for help,” Karen said.

“Right,” said Helen, and they breathed again in each other’s company.

But it was the beginning of something that’s run between them ever since. Who’s in charge? And it was the beginning of something else, too. It was the beginning of the two of them versus each other, and the two of them versus me.

The sun went down, and we sat around the campfire together for the first time in weeks. No one said anything, but I wanted to mark the calendar. It felt like a celebration day. Our first fight, and Helen hadn’t kicked us out. Instead, here we all were. Perley nursed. Helen squatted on her pallet, her knife out, skinning the squirrels. Karen whittled. Helen asked Karen what she was making.

“Tools for Perley,” said Karen.

“Tools? You mean toys?” asked Helen.

“No time for toys. The boy needs to learn practical skills,” Karen said. “He needs to be prepared out here.”

Helen nodded, wicking blood efficiently into the flames. “That’s right. Practice and prepare,” she said.

“Prepare for what?” I asked. They looked at me like they’d just remembered I was there.

“For the future,” Helen said gently, as if speaking to a small child. Then she looked at our small child. “For Perley’s future.” Perley, hearing his name, turned to let his eyes catch the firelight, graciously accepting fealty.

“I think we’re pretty self-sufficient,” I said. “I mean, more than most people.”

“Ha. Most people,” Karen said with contempt, and Helen, too, shook her head. Karen said, “Most people think we’re ready for anything out here, but we’re not. Not yet.”

“But what about the garden? And Helen’s wild food?” I asked.

“We’re basically hobby farmers,” Helen said.

“It’s true,” Karen said. “If we couldn’t go to the grocery store, we’d starve.”