Once Upon a River

• Chapter Twenty •


“Your ma a rich lady?” Fishbone asked as they pulled up in front of the house that matched the address Margo had been carrying around with her for a year and a half. A month ago, she’d finally cashed her mother’s money order.

Fishbone said, “I wouldn’t guess it by you.”

“I wish I had my rifle,” Margo said.

“Not in this neighborhood, young lady. Rich folks get uneasy about poor folks carrying firearms.”

He waited alongside the road in the truck while Margo walked up the shoveled concrete path and rang the doorbell. In the driveway was a shiny white car. When someone opened the front door a few inches, Fishbone pulled away. Margo felt a cold panic rush through her.

“Who is it?” said a woman’s voice, through the opening.

“Is that you, Ma?” Margo took off her stocking cap so that her mother would recognize her.

“Margaret Louise?”

Margo stepped back as her mother closed, unchained, and then opened the door.

“I wrote to you, Margaret,” she said, looking beyond Margo, searching the driveway and the road, “and told you it wasn’t a good idea to come yet.”

“Daddy’s dead,” Margo said. Her own words struck her with the force and urgency of a revelation. She had never mentioned her father in the letters she’d sent to Luanne, nor had Luanne mentioned him in the notes she’d sent in return. Luanne’s face lost all expression, and Margo wished she could take back the words. “I’m sorry, Ma,” she said. “I didn’t mean to say it that way.”

Her mother remained motionless, didn’t even blink. Margo thought she might crack like a dish.

“I’m okay, Mom. Really.” Margo had never called her mother “Mom” before. It had always been “Mama” or “Ma,” but she wanted to sound like a normal kid.

Luanne glanced behind her, into the house, and said with a sigh, “I heard about the accident six months after the fact. I should have come to you, but it seemed too late.”

“It’s okay.” Margo smoothed her own hair, all the way down her braid. She tried to soothe her mother with her voice. “I’m all right.”

“I figured Cal and Joanna would take care of you.” Luanne cleared her throat, and her voice grew in strength. “You practically lived at their house, anyway.”

“Yes,” Margo said. She forced herself to smile.

“Come in,” Luanne said, just when Margo thought she couldn’t hold her face that way any longer. “It’s been a long time without seeing my girl. You took me by surprise.” Luanne began to smile.

Margo would have liked a couple of days to sit quietly, study the new surroundings. Before talking, she would have liked to walk away from the flat-roofed house and then turn around and look at it from a distance, study its big windows, its sand-colored wooden siding, the evergreen bushes trimmed flat along the front of the house, and the two cone-shaped pines nearer the curb, dark against the snow-covered lawn. She would have liked to walk around the house and down to the water, so she could squat and study the surface of the lake for the rest of the day. She would have liked to observe her mother from a distance, to catch glimpses of her through the windows and get used to her movements before facing her this way.

Instead, Margo followed Luanne through a big kitchen with a shining white floor and into a carpeted living room with floor-to-

ceiling windows providing a panoramic view of the lake. In the far corner of the living room was a Christmas tree evenly decorated with silver garlands, red bulbs, white blinking lights, and some painted wooden ornaments. Margo walked to the window. The expanse of the lake, a mile across, according to the map, made her mind go blank. She had a lot of questions to ask her mother, but couldn’t think of any of them.

“I missed you, Mom,” she said, looking out at the lake. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“You know I wanted to see you, Margaret. You know I would have given anything to see you, but it wasn’t the right time.”

“Why not?”

“When I met Roger, I told him I didn’t have any children. Now, if I change my story, he’ll think I’m a liar. Roger’s my new husband.” Her voice cracked. “He’s a lot of fun, a great guy, just a little opinionated.”

The lake was the color of a heron’s blue-gray wing. There was an island way out there in the middle of the water. Margo wished she were rowing her mother out to it in a boat.

“Oh, Margaret. I really am glad to see you.” Luanne walked over and wrapped her arms around Margo, hugged her long and hard. Margo remembered the way her ma had wrapped the jungle towel around her on the dock, but in her mother’s embrace, Margo now stiffened. She searched for the smell of cocoa butter beneath the scent of her mother’s herbal perfume. When Luanne pulled away, tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t want to leave you, Margaret Louise. Sit down with me.”

Margo followed her mother to the couch, took off her jacket, and folded it over her knees.

“I haven’t cried in a while,” Luanne said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “Roger’s away until Friday. He’s working in New Jersey, just coming home on the weekends. That means I can run around as much as I like, so long as I keep a low profile.”

“You have a nice Christmas tree,” Margo said. She wondered if Smoke would like a tree in his house.

“It’s a fake one. Remember how your daddy always cut a tree that was too big for the living room so it was bent over? What did you used to put on the top of it, that cross of sticks wrapped with yarn?”

“A God’s eye,” Margo said. Joanna had told her that a homemade God’s eye allowed God to watch over the family. Luanne’s tree had a silver-and-glass star on the top with a light inside. Margo leaned back on the couch and was amazed at how soft it was, how the cushions embraced and supported her. She wanted to pet the velvety fabric like a dog’s fur. A tear dripped from her cheek onto the fabric of the couch before she even realized she was crying. She wiped her face. Luanne pushed a box of tissues toward her.

“What do you think of the lake?” Luanne asked.

“It’s big,” Margo said. “It’s nice.”

“I knew you’d love it. Can you believe this house?” Luanne gestured around the big room, at the tall windows, white-painted walls hung with black-and-white photographs of what at first appeared to be beach landscapes, but were actually close-ups of women’s bodies. The big fireplace with the marble mantel was swept clean, as though it had never contained a fire, and sitting on the mantel were a few abstract sculptures in sandy colors. The thick off-white carpeting had not a stain on it. Luanne nodded toward the lake. “See how beautiful the view is? Roger fusses about goose poop on the lawn, but it doesn’t bother me. He runs out and chases them away when they show up.”

“I’m pregnant,” Margo blurted out. That word felt ugly and dishonest in her mouth.

“What? No. Oh, no. Sweetie. How far along are you?”

“Three months.”

“You’re not even showing. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I know I didn’t take care of you when I should have, but I will now. Are you feeling sick in the mornings?”

“Not anymore.”

“Whose is it?” Luanne asked. “Is the guy in the picture?”

“He’s gone.”

“I guess we women have to take care of ourselves.” Luanne studied Margo beside her. “God, you’re beautiful, Margaret. I was so depressed back in Murrayville, I don’t think I even looked at you the last few years I was there.”

“Joanna always said being beautiful was a curse.”

“She would say that,” Luanne said. “Being beautiful should be fun.”

“I’m hungry, Ma,” Margo said.

“Of course you’re hungry. You’re eighteen. And you’re pregnant. I was pregnant when I was eighteen.” Luanne stood and Margo followed her into the kitchen.

“I haven’t eaten yet today.”

“Roger eats at work, and I try not to keep much food in the house when he’s gone, so I’m not tempted by it. Here’s something.” She pulled a metal can of cheese spread out of the refrigerator and put out some crackers. When Margo picked up the can and looked at it, Luanne took it from her, removed the lid, and sprayed orange cheese onto one of the crackers. Margo carried the plate and the can into the living room, and they sat on the luxurious couch. Margo ate one cheese cracker after another, enjoying the surging water sound of the spray. She offered the plate to her ma. Luanne shook her head.

“I talked to Aunt Joanna a few months ago,” Margo said. “She thought maybe I could stay with her at the house and finish school.”

“Poor Joanna. What a life she’s got. Do you want to finish school?”

Margo shook her head.

“I didn’t, either. You know I was only seventeen when I married your father.”

“Joanna had another baby. Another boy.”

“Christ. She’s got to be forty. How’d Cal talk her into that? Six kids. Six boys.” She laughed.

Margo startled at the sound of the name Cal spoken so casually. Brian had said it with such venom, Joanna with such reverence. This way of saying his name made more sense with the weakened version of Cal she had seen. “It’s a Down’s baby,” Margo said.

“Down’s baby?”

“They had to get rid of all the dogs, even Moe, because they made the baby cry. Billy said the baby’s a retard.”

“Oh, Down’s syndrome. Like a Mongoloid. Joanna has her work cut out for her. Good thing she’s such a hard worker.”

“If I stayed, I could have helped with the baby.”

“Good thing you got out of there. She’d have worked you to death, sweetie.”

“I don’t mind working hard.”

“What about fun? What about pleasure? I think those things are the purpose of life. Women like Joanna find that view distasteful.”

Margo shrugged.

“But I do work hard, in a way. Nowadays I have to work hard to look young. Even a fifty-year-old man like Roger, who can’t tolerate children, expects me to look like a teenager.” Luanne laughed. She took hold of Margo’s hand and held it for a moment. “I forgot how quiet and serious you are. You look so pretty that people probably don’t mind you don’t have anything to say.”

Margo watched gulls skim the water outside and land near shore. She wondered if they could stay on the lake all winter.

Annie Oakley’s mother had not wanted her to come home at first; she had wanted to send her daughter back to the wolves. Annie won her way into her mother’s home through the hard work of hunting and trapping, by being able to support the whole family, including her mother’s new husband. There was no wood to chop here, though, no food to kill and gut, nothing obviously in need of repair. Margo was missing the weight of her gun, and had to lift the tension out of her shoulders. She said, “I can help you do anything you need done around here.”

“I just can’t believe you’re here. Right here with me. Like a ghost. Like somebody from a past life.” The television was on. It had been on when Margo entered, and it seemed to grow louder as the minutes passed. “You can stay here . . .” Luanne said. “I guess until about six o’clock Friday when Roger gets home. I’ll make you an appointment with the doctor.”

Margo hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. “I went to the clinic today, but I left.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Margo shrugged.

“So tell me. Where are you living now?” Luanne asked. “Your letter said you were only twenty-some miles away.”

“On the river.” Margo gathered herself. “I trap muskrats like Grandpa taught me, and I sell their skins. And I fish. And there’s this big black dog I love named Nightmare. He looks like the Murrays’ dog Moe.”

“You skin animals?” Luanne slowly asked and then laughed. “Your dad asked me to cook him a rabbit once. This was when you were little. So I boiled it with the hair on and the guts inside. I knew I was supposed to skin it and gut it for him, but I figured if I cooked it whole, he’d never ask me to do it again. I smiled when I served it to him.” Luanne left the room and returned with two cups of black coffee.

Margo tried to take a sip, but it was too hot. “Dad always said you couldn’t boil water.”

When her mother sat down again, she asked, “Okay, you live on the river. What else?”

“This guy, Fishbone, taught me to skin a muskrat in two minutes.” She held up two fingers and repeated with emphasis, “Two minutes. It was incredible.”

“It’s almost Christmas,” Luanne said. “I want to buy you a present. What would you like?”

Margo shrugged.

“Seriously. You must need something.”

“Socks,” she said. “Ammo.”

“Maybe some nice underwear. That makes anybody feel better.” Luanne’s smile was the one in all those photos. Only it no longer looked fake—it was her real smile. Luanne sipped from her coffee. “Too bad it’s not summer. You could swim in the pool. Come look at it with me.”

Margo pulled herself up and followed her mother to a side window. Luanne pointed out a big green rectangle between this house and the next. A few stray leaves littered the tarp, but there was no snow on it. “We’re planning to build an enclosure so we can swim year-round.

“Don’t you swim in the lake?”

“Never.”

“Do you still lie in the sun?”

“God, no. I wish I hadn’t done it all those years. They’re saying now it damages the skin. You should be careful, too, wear a hat, if you want to keep from getting wrinkled. You think you’re safe in the winter, but the sun reflects off the snow, and it’s even worse. This has been a hard lesson for me to learn.” Luanne reached out and pushed Margo’s hair behind her ear.

Margo turned away. As soon as it didn’t seem rude, she shook her hair loose.

“How’s Cal?” Luanne asked.

Margo shrugged. She sneezed. She didn’t know what triggered it, her mother’s perfume or all that sunlight reflecting off the snow and pouring through the windows. From where she was standing, she could see the house to the north, a white one-story structure with a steeply pitched reddish roof. The big lake was built up as far as she could see, one house next to another. Many of the yards had pontoon boats or speedboats too big for the river up on sawhorses in their yards, covered with tarps.

“Why don’t you take a shower, and you can rest in the guest room if you like? I’ll make a phone call before the clinic closes.” Luanne touched Margo’s cheek again. It reminded her of the way Brian had touched her that first morning, as though she were made of clay that could be shaped. “You don’t use anything, do you? No mascara even?”

Margo had showered just the day before, but she wanted to use her mother’s bathroom. It had two sinks and smelled like strawberries. The pink towels were thick and fluffy. The hot water never ran out, though Margo stayed in the shower for half an hour. As she combed her wet hair, she could hear the television from the other room, and the droning made her feel dopey. She wrapped herself in the towel and moved into the guest room. She lay on the bed, on top of the covers. Maybe soft towels were something she might want on her boat. She’d have considered stealing one if she’d had her backpack with her.

When she next woke up, the sky through the window was dark. She sat up and felt startled to be naked on a strange bed. She remembered where she was, at her mother’s house, and convinced herself it was not a dream. The television still played in the next room. Her own clothes were not on the chair where she had left them, but had been replaced by a pair of women’s jeans and a white button-up shirt like the one her mother had been wearing. Her army knife and her wallet were on the dresser. A green parka was hanging on the back of the door.

“It’s sleeping beauty,” Luanne said when she entered the kitchen. “You slept almost four hours.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” Margo didn’t usually even sleep four hours at night without at least waking up to feed the fire.

“You’re talking to a woman who used to sleep all day. Do you remember that? That was a sign of depression, my doctor says. Look, I ordered us a pizza. I had them load it with everything. I remember that’s how you liked it.”

Margo smiled as Luanne lifted the lid.

“You look good in my clothes,” Luanne said when they were sitting at the kitchen table, built into the corner, four times the size of the table on the Glutton.

“Where’s my other clothes?” Margo said.

“I threw them in the washer and dryer, but maybe I should burn that jacket. Looks like something one of those Slocums would have worn. Oh, remember the Slocums?”

“That’s Daddy’s old jacket.”

“Well, it looks like it hasn’t been washed since . . . in a while, anyhow. We’ll see how it comes out of the dryer. I put another jacket in the guest room for you, a warm parka. You can have it if you like it. It makes me look dumpy. Do you want some wine?”

Margo shook her head.

“I don’t usually drink during the week, but this day is turning out to be quite a surprise.” Her mother took a sip of white wine. “Tell me something else about Murrayville. Anything.”

Margo swallowed and offered, “A lady with a mean dog lives in our old house. She smokes a pipe. And Junior went to Alaska.”

“I’m glad to hear somebody else got out of there.”

Margo hated how far away Junior was. She swept that thought away and decided this was the best pizza she had ever tasted. She devoured the piece before her and took another.

“Did Cal . . . ?” At first Margo wasn’t even sure what she wanted to ask. “Did Cal force you, Ma?” She watched Luanne’s face. “Is that why you left home?”

“Cal? Force me?” She laughed and put her hand over her mouth. Her fingernails were painted the same pearly color as the clinic nurse’s lipstick. “You couldn’t possibly have known. You were so young. Cal and I were . . . well . . .”

“What?”

“Cal and I were something. An item. Cal was the great love of my life back then, not your father, bless his heart. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“You. Were with Cal? On purpose?”

“On purpose? I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Did Daddy know?” This kitchen was bigger than Joanna’s kitchen. The surfaces were not cluttered with containers, cutting boards, or piles of dishcloths. Joanna had a whole row of cookbooks under her cupboards, but Margo saw none here.

“He knew after a while. And so did Joanna. She promised she’d make my life hell if I didn’t leave. That woman is tougher than you think. Cal had said he would take me away from Murrayville, go out to California with me, but I realized he was never going to leave all that—his wife, his kids, his company. He had too much to lose. We had a lot of fun, me and Cal, but he would have thrown me under a truck to preserve his life as it was.”

“Daddy really hated Cal,” Margo said.

“Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, Margaret, but I had to go. I would have died otherwise or drunk myself to death. I never belonged there. The river stink drove me crazy. On the day I left, I found a blue racer snake curled around my damned clothesline. And the mildew. Every leather belt turned green, every leather shoe. It never bothered you or your father or the damned Murrays. I stayed as long as I could. You’ve got to give me credit for staying as long as I did. I waited until you stopped growing.”

Margo nodded so Luanne would keep talking, but the question must have shown on her face.

“Remember when you were fourteen and we measured you on that tree?”

“You left because I stopped growing taller?”

Luanne got up from the table and carried her glass and wine bottle into the living room. Margo followed, though she could have easily eaten more pizza.

“You didn’t need me, anyway, Margaret. I didn’t know anything about raising a kid when you came along. That’s why I let you do whatever you wanted. I figured you knew better than I did what a kid needed.”

“I didn’t mind if you didn’t know.”

“Those Murray women minded plenty. They said I would raise a wildcat or wolf cub. But look at you! You’re perfect.”

“A wolf cub? They said that?”

“Oh, I don’t know what they said. I don’t care about those people. I was crazy about Cal, though,” Luanne said and laughed. “But don’t worry, you are your daddy’s child. No doubt about that.”

“You said in that note you left that you wanted to find yourself,” Margo said.

“Well, I figured out soon enough that myself wasn’t who I was looking for. I was looking for somebody else, somebody who would take care of me.”

Margo looked behind her, out the living room window, at the lights giving shape to the darkness on the shore.

“Margaret, honey, look at me. You’re not old enough to understand why I left, but sometimes a woman has to start over, make a whole new life to try to find happiness. I know it’s selfish.”

“I worried that you forgot me when you went away.”

“Oh, Margaret, a mama doesn’t forget her child. You have to know that. It’s just that when I lived with your father, I dreamed of a house like this. Think how all three of us shared that one tiny bathroom with no tub, just a shower. Now I’ve got three bathrooms, four if you count the little one in Roger’s photo studio.”

“Daddy quit drinking,” Margo said. “Before he died, I mean.”

“I wish you could understand how I had to start over. A clean slate. Roger’s a good guy, when so many of them are pigs.” She poured another inch of wine into her glass. “How could you know? You’re so young.”

Margo shook her head. “I’m not that young, Ma.”

“It was dumb, what I did, to lie to Roger from the start,” she said. “Do you think I should tell him the truth? See what he does? Take a chance on losing all this?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“God, I just wanted to have some fun. I didn’t mean to get separated from you this way. But things snowballed.”

“You did sleep a lot in Murrayville.”

“I was a depressed drunk. You didn’t seem to notice, but everybody else did.”

“I just wanted to see you,” Margo said.

“You have every right to hate me for what I put you through, Margaret. Do you hate me?”

“No.” Margo tried to remember Smoke’s words. “You should live how you want.”

“You know, people think it’s the worst thing to abandon a kid,” Luanne said, “but I think there are worse things, like staying and ruining your own life and your kid’s life in the process. And look how fine you turned out, how beautiful. Oh, how I love this show. Watch it with me.” Luanne picked up the remote control from the coffee table and turned up the sound. She lay back on the couch and stuck a throw pillow under her head. She had turned off for the night. The pillow pressed against Margo’s leg.

They both remained on the couch without speaking for a long time. When Margo was sure her mother was asleep, she studied her face and figure. Her mother was very thin, Margo thought. In her life she had watched her mother sleep more than she had watched her do any other thing.

Margo hunted around the house until she found the washer and dryer in the basement and got her clothes. Then she went to bed in the guest room where she had slept earlier. She wondered if her mother might visit her sometimes, if they might sit on the deck of her boat and enjoy the river together. Margo fell asleep quickly, but then woke up after a few hours with her heart pounding. She was thinking about her father’s ashes and how far away from them she was. She got up and raised the window, but it opened only an inch. At about four a.m. she woke up again and couldn’t go back to sleep. She went into the living room, but found the couch empty. She ate two more pieces of pizza from the box in the refrigerator. Then she put on the parka, picked up some kitchen matches from the stove, and carried them outside. She gathered all the twigs she could find and made a little pile near the water as far as she could from the security light. She built a tiny fire on the frozen ground and crouched beside it. The fire was almost upon the water, and the reflected light warmed her.

She remembered how, at the Pokagon Mound Picnic Area and at her camp near the marijuana house, she had sometimes felt proud of getting through another day and night, of getting and preparing good food and keeping warm and comfortable. She felt a little that way now.

She lay back on the snow and stared at the three stars making up the man’s belt, almost directly overhead now. The constellations she had seen with the Indian—the swan and the dolphin—were gone. She had heard someone once mention a dog star; she would have liked to know where that was. Margo should have asked what Smoke saw in the stars, but the two of them didn’t tend to hang around outside at night. Margo already missed Smoke’s breathy voice and his cursing, the way he cheered up when Fishbone’s lanky figure appeared in the back yard. She missed the urgency of the river moving nearby. Compared to the river, the lake seemed almost dead.




“I’m not sure about this,” Margo said to her mother the following morning.

“You don’t have to be sure. The first appointment is just an exam. They’ll explain your options.”

“I was there already.”

“I told them you’d been there yesterday, but that you’d gotten nervous and left, and they let me make you another appointment. I’ll come with you this time.”

Her mother was sitting at a little table in the bathroom adjoining her bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Margo was leaning against the doorframe with her own worn jeans on, army knife and wallet in her pockets. Luanne wiped makeup over her face and rubbed it around until it became invisible.

“Does anybody ever row on the lake?” Margo asked.

“The neighbor has a canoe. We have a pontoon boat, but it’s in winter storage at the marina.” Luanne applied lipstick and blotted her lips on a tissue, then applied more and smiled at herself. “I can show you how to do all this to your face. That’s something I could do for you.”

Margo nodded vaguely and then went out to wait in the kitchen, and when her mother appeared, Margo thought she looked like somebody from TV. She wore a glossy black belt that accented her small waist. Her shirt was unbuttoned to show cleavage, and she wore a necklace, earrings, and rings with turquoise stones.

Margo walked behind her out to the car.

“What happened last night, Margo?” Luanne asked as she backed out into the road. “I just listened to a phone message from my neighbor, saying there was a vagabond tending a fire in my back yard last night.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t really have a fire without a permit unless it’s in a fire pit. Mr. Smith was afraid you were going to burn down his fence.”

“I was eight feet away from the fence.”

“Why were you outside so late at night, anyway?”

“I like to be outside at night for a while, to hear what’s out there.” She had not heard any night bird sounds, only a raccoon scrambling on the neighbor’s porch. “I couldn’t get the window in my room to open more than an inch.”

“Those are security locks. It’s too cold to open a window.”

“Why don’t you have a dog?”

“Roger doesn’t want a dog.” Luanne sighed as she turned off the lake road and onto a two-lane highway. “And I certainly don’t want a dog. You know I never wanted a dog.”

Margo pressed a button that locked and then unlocked the door. She finally found the button that controlled the window, and she let it down a few inches. She didn’t mean to be annoying to her mother, but everything was happening too quickly. When the houses along the road were no longer so close together, Margo saw a sign that read MAPLE SYRUP 4 SALE. Tied to the front porch of the house were two German shepherds. Margo watched them fall behind her.

“Are you glad you had me?” Margo asked. Her mother applied the brakes so that Margo was thrown forward slightly. She saw a car backing out of a driveway up ahead of them.

“Put on your seat belt,” Luanne said.

“Do you wish you hadn’t had me?” Margo pulled the belt down over her shoulder and fiddled to attach it.

“Of course I’m glad I had you. Look at you. But I had a husband at the time who could help. I wasn’t all alone like you are.”

“I’m not all alone.”

“Do you want to have a baby?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” Luanne accelerated back up to speed.

Margo studied her mother’s apparently flawless face.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” her mother asked and smiled.

“Whatever happens, Mama, I’ll be all right.”

“Of course you will. It’s not a complicated procedure.”

“Did you have one?”

“It wasn’t terrible. Really. It was fine. It was a relief. Now, I’m going to have to run into the post office to drop something off. You go into the clinic and get the form and sit down, and I’ll be there in ten minutes to help you.”

“I’m glad I found you,” Margo said. She would have liked to have a little brother or a sister. Maybe a sister Julie Slocum’s age, someone whom Margo could have taught to fish and row and keep out of trouble. Maybe an older sister could have kept Margo out of trouble.

“I’m glad, too,” Luanne said and patted Margo’s thigh. “I’m glad I can finally help my girl.”

Luanne pulled up to the front door of the clinic and fished around in her purse. When a protester with a sign approached the car, Luanne rolled down both front windows and yelled, “Go to hell, you freaks. I’ll run your asses over. I’ve got mace.”

The protesters looked at one another and backed away.

“I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, Ma,” Margo said. She liked seeing her mother ferocious.

“Don’t think about all this too much. Just go in. Tell them you’re eighteen years old, you have no means of support. You don’t even know the guy’s name. They’ll just examine you today, but they might give you some Valium to get you through until the procedure. Tell them you don’t have to drive. You’ve got a ride.”

“Maybe I should wait another week.” Margo remembered the perfume smell of the clinic, the clipboard with page after page to be filled out, the small room with the high window. She would never have been able to explain to her mother, but she felt even more uneasy about it today than yesterday. She needed time to think.

“Trust your mama about this one thing.” Luanne turned to her with a resigned expression.

Margo nodded.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you with the form. I’ll come into the exam room with you and talk to the doctor. We’ll get through this together. Roger will be gone for three more days, so we’ll see if they can’t get you in for the procedure on Friday morning. That way I can take you . . . home afterwards. To wherever you’re living.”

Margo leaned over and hugged her mother. Luanne’s arms were easy and loose now, and Margo didn’t want to pull away.

“Here’s three hundred dollars in case they ask for it up front,” Luanne said, tugging free. “It’ll be the best three hundred dollars you’ve ever spent.” She pressed six fifty-dollar bills into Margo’s hand.

“You did the best you could with me and Daddy. Don’t feel bad,” Margo said as she opened the car door.

“Why are you wearing that ratty jacket under the parka?” Luanne asked.

“I didn’t know if I’d be warm enough.” Margo had unzipped the parka because she’d been too hot in the car.

“I guess you feel sentimental about your daddy’s jacket. I don’t mean to suggest I didn’t love your daddy, Margaret. He was a good man. I should have told you that. Just because I had to get away from him doesn’t mean he wasn’t good. Maybe if he would have taken me out to eat once in a while or dancing or even to The Tap Room, things would have been different.”

“I know.” Margo got out and waved. She entered the building and stood just inside looking out.

When her mother turned onto the road, Margo walked back out and listened for the trickle of water behind the building, the storm drain she had noticed on her first visit.

She hid around the corner of the building for ten minutes until she saw the car pull back into the parking lot. Relief flooded her body at the sight of her mother getting out of her car, walking toward the clinic. Margo hadn’t known if her mother would really come back to help her.

She followed the flow of water in the storm drain down a shallow slope until it disappeared underground. She wandered around the area until she found the stream exposed again a hundred yards away. She followed that to a bigger storm drain that ran through a twenty-four-inch galvanized culvert and emptied into a brisk moving creek, which, after a few miles, emptied into the river. The edge of the Kalamazoo was strewn with trash—broken glass, rusted cans, plastic bottles filled with green slime, old bicycle frames, car tires. Margo couldn’t understand why people would let the river be treated so poorly. She walked along railroad tracks, around junkyards, past houses with small junkyards behind them. She walked past storefronts, small industrial buildings, a few bars with neon lights in their windows, through the edge of a golf course, until finally the houses were spaced farther apart. She walked miles along an undeveloped area on the south side of the river until she reached a road bridge in a small town that put her on the north side

of the river, where she belonged. Despite the cold wind, she sweated. In the afternoon, the sun shone hard on her, and she carried her parka on her arm. It was dark when she reached her boat, and she kept on going. She opened the riverside door to Smoke’s house without knocking, saw her rifle in his gun rack in the dimly lit kitchen. She entered and fell to her knees, exhausted, beside Smoke’s wheelchair and ran her hand over Nightmare’s ears. Then she laid her cheek against Smoke’s bony thigh as she had never done before, and she cried. Smoke petted Margo’s head in silence, stroked her hair the way a mother would stroke a daughter’s.