Her clothes never really got dry. If the rain stopped, even just for a few minutes, she became aware of the coyotes in the woods. Sometimes one or two, sometimes more, they kept pace with her as she hurried along the road. It reminded Helene of the way she herself would stand at the open door of the refrigerator, considering her next meal. She waved her stick and shouted at them and kept moving until the rain came down hard once more.

Most days, even drenched to the bone, she made it a little farther, moving the Coke cans down the road. Despite that, she never came to another house. As if she’d fallen into a hole in the world, a hole without a bottom.

When she became so cold that she could barely control her hands, she went back to the home place, where the panic fluttered in her stomach like a live bird. She tried not to think about Roy walking through the door. She hung up her wet clothes and warmed herself by the heater, then tried to think of new ways to open the locked closets or basement. She had no better tools than a kitchen spatula and a paring knife.

Roy had to have more clothes somewhere. A raincoat would make a big difference. Any kind of coat. And boots, even if they were too big, to replace the Walmart sneakers. She searched the house again and again. Nothing. She paced around the barn, thinking of the vehicles inside, but it was locked up just as tight, the hardware new and strong.

After supper, warm and dry and fed, she sat on the porch while the coyotes howled in the woods. Later she lay in the big bed and listened to the unfamiliar sounds of the house, thinking about tomorrow, praying for sunshine. Wondering when Roy would come home.

One night, she brushed her teeth in the bathroom and wondered what day it was. She’d totally lost track of time. She counted back to her last shift at the Gas and Grocery, then counted forward. It was October now. Roy had been gone nine days.

Then she closed her eyes and counted again, this time trying to picture a calendar.

Oh, this was bad. Her mother would have been pissed.

She had no idea how long it had been since her last period.

More than a month. More than two?

The next morning, bright and early, he came home.

31

She had the skillet on the stove, making pancakes from a box, when she heard his truck outside. She took a deep breath and told herself that everything would be fine. She could do this. Time to make some lemonade, baby girl.