Chapters (41)
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART TWO
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
She left the engine running, called out, “Loren, you okay in there?”
She knocked, but he didn’t answer.
Behind the house, the creak of wood scraping wood and humming.
“Loren, that you?”
His voice came from the back porch. “You see that out there?” He rocked in the chair she’d made him a few years back, staring at the sky. “That light show?”
“I saw it.” She glanced around. He wore a white cotton undershirt tucked into his jeans and a pair of walking shoes. His gray hair slicked as usual, his face shaved. Nothing seemed amiss. “Why are you out here in this heat instead of using your AC?” September in New Mexico still rose into the nineties. Loren didn’t usually sit outside until after sunset. Too many bugs.
“Sun’s going down early … just had lunch, and now it’s suppertime. Look.” He motioned with his chin toward the dusky orange sky, cloud-cover blurring sunlight. It was a strange sky. Strangest she’d seen in seventy-five years.
“Do you know where Trudy went?” she asked.
“Nah, ain’t seen her since lunch. AC ain’t working. Reckon you can fix it?”
Mara was the handyman around here, could fix electricals. “Is it plugged in?” She wouldn’t put it past him not to have checked.
“Course. Coffee pot’s not working either.”
“Fine, I’ll look. Loren, you seen anything else strange? Heard anything?” She thought of the mountain lion pouncing the javelina and shuddered.
“That light show sure was strange, wasn’t it?”
Inside the cabin, framed black and white photographs of Loren from his service in the navy. He looked smart in his uniform. Another picture featured his wedding day. Trudy’s mom had died in her recliner chair there a year ago, a few feet from where Mara stood. He hadn’t been the same since. She switched on the AC. Nothing happened. Nothing in the house glowed. Blank screen where the microwave should’ve blinked the time. She tried the light switch. No electricity. At the circuit breaker on the side of the house, she flipped all the switches. Nothing.
Back on the porch, Mara stood arms akimbo, her fingers through the tool-belt loops of her coveralls, shaking her head. “It’s strange, Loren. No power. I’ll stop by the electric company when I get into town.”
“Why are you going to town?”
“To find your daughter.”
“Why would you need to find her?”
Mara stared toward the blank space of sky Loren was watching. Sunset orange, clouds dripping with rust. She shook her head. “I don’t know, old man. Just have a funny feeling.”
FIVE
FIVE
MUD WOMAN, CORN WOMAN
