We ate and talked for a good two hours. She caught me up on how she became county attorney. She hadn’t been kidding earlier when she’d alluded to many of the good ole boys out here not trusting a woman in such a powerful position. At a town meeting, one man had asked if people would be randomly arrested when she was on her monthly. Gates had said, “Only registered Democrats, sir,” and had gotten a laugh from the crowd.

We finished up, and at the door I stood there a second before saying, “Thanks. I needed this.”

“Come by anytime for a home-cooked meal.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna put you out.”

“You’re not. It was . . . nice. To have someone else here. The house is usually so quiet.”

I nodded and said, “Better go,” and headed to my car.

“You still going to be here tomorrow?”

I turned around and said, “Never really know what the gods will bring, do you? But probably.”

I contemplated driving to my condo but went the opposite way, to Adam’s house. When I got to the door, it was unlocked. I went inside and said, “Adam?”

No answer. The house was quiet. I waited a beat and said, “Adam, you home?”

I heard something from upstairs. A quiet moan. I took the stairs up to my parents’ bedroom. My father was in his pajamas on the floor.

I ran to him. “What happened?”

“Help me up, damn it.”

Wrapping my arm around his back and waist, I hoisted him up as he groaned. I got him onto the bed, and he lay back and took a deep breath.

“Hand me those pills.”

The amber bottle was on the nightstand, and I passed it to him. He took two and a sip of water out of a glass next to the bed.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’, just fell.”

“And you couldn’t get up on your own?”

“Just caught me by surprise is all.”

“Falling catches everyone by surprise, but we can get up. Do you need help?”

“Help? Like what?”

“Like a nurse.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t need a damn nurse. Just some rest. What’re you doin’ here anyway?”

I pulled over a chair and sat down. “Just . . . I don’t know, was in the neighborhood.”

“I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

There was a ball of yarn on the nightstand. My mother’s. I took it and twirled it in my hands. “So did I.”

He looked down to the yarn. “Your mother was making me a scarf when she . . .”

I nodded. “We didn’t talk at the funeral.”

“Nothin’ to talk about. It happens to all of us.” He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes a second. “Turn out the light, will ya? I need to get some sleep.”