Eventide

And have the key turned on. But don’t try it till I get you out on the county road where we can go a little faster.

He shut the door and got back in his pickup and eased it forward. The bumpers touched and he pushed her slowly out the drive onto the lane and then onto the dark road, his headlights shining very bright on the rear of her car. He went faster, the gravel kicked up under the fenders, and with a lurch her car leapt forward and she pulled away and her headlights and taillights came on. She sped up, the dust was boiling under them from the dry road, and he followed her for half a mile to be sure she was all right, then he slowed and stopped and watched the red taillights going away in the dark.

Victoria was sitting at the kitchen table when he came inside. She had made a fresh pot of coffee. He took off his coat and hat, and she stood up when she saw his face was so dark and red.

Why you’re just freezing, she said.

It must be down around zero out there. He cupped his ears with his hands. It’s going to turn off pretty cold tonight.

I made you a pot of coffee.

Did you, honey? I thought you’d be in bed by now.

I wanted to make sure you got back all right.

Were you worried?

I just wanted to be sure, she said. Were you able to get her car started?

Yes. She’s gone on toward town. Well, I expect she’s almost back to her own home by this time.





29


ON A BRIGHT COLD DAY IN JANUARY ROSE TYLER PARKED unannounced in front of the trailer and got her purse and notebook and walked up the snow-muddied path to the faded trailer house. Dead stalks of cheatgrass and redroot stuck up through the snow beside the path like ragged stands of tiny gray trees. The plank porch had been swept clean, that much had been done. She knocked on the metal door and waited. She knocked again. She looked out into the empty street. Nothing was moving. She turned to knock once more and waited a while longer. She had started down the steps when the door opened behind her.

Luther stood in the doorway wearing sweatpants but no shirt. Is that you, Rose? he said.

Yes. Weren’t you going to let me in?

I didn’t hear you knock. He stood back from the door so she could pass inside. Betty ain’t up yet.

It’s past ten o’clock. I thought you’d both be up by now.

Betty never slept good last night.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.

I came to talk to both of you this morning. To see how things are going.

Things is fine, Rose. I guess we been doing pretty good.

Why don’t you go put on a shirt and tell Betty to come out. We’ll have a little visit.

Well, I don’t know if she’ll want to get up.

Why don’t you ask her.

He disappeared into the hall and she surveyed the front room and the kitchen. There were dishes and pizza cartons on every flat surface, and the black plastic bag of pop cans leaned against the refrigerator. A morning game show was playing on the television in the corner.

Luther came out of the hallway in a tee-shirt, with Betty shuffling barefooted behind him, looking tired and haggard in a pink bathrobe. She had brushed her hair and it hung down stiff on both sides of her face. She looked at Rose and looked at the television. Is something wrong, Rose? she said.

Nothing that I know of. I said before that I’d come by now and then. It’s part of the court order. Don’t you remember?

I ain’t feeling very good.

Is it still your stomach?

My back too. It’s been gripping me bad this past week.

I’m sorry to hear that.

I can’t sleep no more. I have to rest during the day.

Yes, but you know I’m going to visit you at any time, don’t you. You remember we talked about that.

I know, Betty said. You want to sit down?

Thank you.

Rose seated herself on a chair near the door and glanced at the television. Luther, would you turn that off, please?

He clicked the television off and sat down on the couch close to Betty.

So. How are things? Rose said. You said they were going fine, Luther.

Everything’s pretty good, he said. We’re doing okay, I guess.

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