It was bedtime. The sky, which should have been black by then, remained luminous blue. A white light moved along the edge of the sky—not a planet or a shooting star, as Dice would have wanted, but a helicopter. “Search and rescue,” Queen said. For a moment I wondered if Lindsay could have sent it.

Maybe they would leave us for lost—this would be the best outcome, I reminded myself. The helicopter floated on. Queen and I headed down the slope to the long house, whose windows were orange and welcoming.

CHAPTER 12

Queen and I passed each other at breakfast and lunch. She avoided my eyes, which reminded me of the shy way sheep pretend they’re not paying attention when you herd them. I spent the afternoon herding; she was in the dairy. We didn’t have a private time to talk. Her avoidance structured the day like a middle school crush; I daydreamed about her and stumbled over the fields, I walked the sheep to the lake, and I stripped and lay in the warm and cool layers of the water. I planned what I would say to her. I’d tell her to keep the baby. Maybe Dice would change his mind.

I found Queen that evening, as I ushered the sheep into the barn and she emerged from the dairy. “I told Pear,” she whispered, although there was no one to hear us. “She’s going to make me a tea tomorrow that will throw the baby out.”

“You once told me you wanted kids,” I said with a sad rush of relief. I shooed the last lambs, large now, into their enclosure. Outside the barn, the late sun made everything green and gold, but inside, night had already fallen.

“The family is more important,” Queen said. Her eyes were puffy, from crying, I suspected. Although I did not believe that this was what she wanted, I thought if she stayed on the farm she’d realize it was for the best. The family’s values would smooth over the loss, and make it as small and silly as my loss of my mother and Isaac. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom,” she said. But this was different from not wanting a baby. For her sake, I pretended it was the same.

* * *

Pear found Queen and me in the barn the next day after lunch, in the short end of the L where the grain platforms opened to a view of the old buggies and wagon wheels far below. “Well, Queenie, you know why I’m here,” she said.

“Should I go?” I said.

“No sense pretending the two of you don’t talk,” Pear said. “The walls have eyes, you know.”

This, too, was a relief, in a way. It was nice to live in a world without secrets. “Does Dice know?” I said.

Pear nodded. I glanced at Queen.