I heard the cracking of Atticus’ back and the popping of the joints in his arms and his muscled neck. I caught myself glimpsing his abs and the obvious freckle set to the right of his navel. I looked away when his shirt slowly slid back down as he lowered his arms, easing out of the stretch. I felt my ears and cheeks get hot; the quilt in my hand was reduced to a perfect square by the time I was done with it—anything to make it appear as though I hadn’t been looking at him in such a way, even though I doubted he noticed.
“Hurry and come eat,” I insisted, setting the quilt on the end of the sofa, and then I slipped around the corner.
ATTICUS
I could’ve sworn Thais was looking—no, surely not. Shaking the thought from my mind, I went to the living room window and watched David standing in the front yard, tossing trash onto the burn pile. He could at least burn the damn tires farther away from the house. The thick black smoke was often offensive when the wind blew it in the wrong direction. But David, for all the survival skills he seemed to possess, was probably not so much an intelligent man with other things, and so I ignored it.
I went into the kitchen where Thais was helping Shannon and Rachel set the table. Rachel raised her dark eyes the second she saw me, but I ignored her, too.
Emily stood at the kitchen window, peering out into the field, but when she noticed me, she sprang away from the window and became immediately attentive. Overly attentive.
“Still not back yet?” I inquired about Lance, assuming that’s why she had been peering out the window so intently. And if Lance is Shannon’s boyfriend, why is she never watching for him?
Emily walked around the table with a fistful of forks, placing one next to each plate with no real uniformity.
“No, he’s not,” she answered. “But he’ll be all right. Been gone huntin’ for longer. Came back one time with a twelve-point buck.”
Hmm.
I looked over at Thais as she filled the glasses with fresh water from a pitcher. She smiled at me from across the table. I almost smiled back.
“So,” Emily said—the screen door creaked as David entered the house—“have ya decided to stay?” She sat down in her usual chair at the table.
David came into the kitchen, his boots clunking against the floor.
I nodded, and that simple gesture piqued everyone’s attention; heads shot up, eyes widened, fixed on me.
Having just made up my mind in the last two minutes, I remained standing for a moment, and then finally took my seat after everyone else.
So eager to hear my decision, Thais sat next to me, unmoving, quiet, and bursting with impatience.
I raised my chin, preparing to answer.
“Well,” I said, and paused. “I’ve decided that, if you’re all okay with it, then we should both stay here”—(before I could even finish the sentence Thais was all but bouncing with giddiness on her chair)—“and chip in any way we can to help out.” I looked at Emily first, who nodded with a giant yellowed smile, and then over at David, chewing a mouthful of eggs.
“Ya’s are welcome to stay for as long as ya want,” Emily said, beaming. “It’ll be nice to have some new faces ‘round.”
THAIS
I was relieved and excited by Atticus’ decision, and when I got excited, I talked a lot. Throughout breakfast the conversation around the table consisted of gardening and butchering and raising livestock and breaking horses and hunting buffalo—a herd had been spotted moving through the flatlands of southern Illinois and northwestern Kentucky.
Also during breakfast, I took more notice to how Rachel eyed Atticus from across the table. And I was realizing how much it bothered me.
“Thais,” Atticus called from the living room long after breakfast was over.
I left Emily in the kitchen where I had been helping her clear the table, to see what he wanted.
“Why don’t you come with me to the barn to help bring the horse and our backpacks up since we’ll be staying?”
Rachel practically skipped into the living room. “I’ll go with you,” she offered.
My hands crumpled into fists. I dropped the dish towel on the arm of the nearby chair, and moved toward Atticus.
“No, that’s okay,” I told Rachel with a pretend kind smile. “I can help him.” I wanted Rachel alone with Atticus about as much as I wanted to go back to Lexington City and be Rafe’s wife.
Shannon and Emily joined us in the living room.
“Why don’ all three of ya’s go?” Emily suggested. “Rachel, you can get a good look at the highway, see if there’s any sign o’Lance comin’ up yet.”
“Good idea,” David spoke up from his recliner where he sat reading a newspaper.
Atticus sighed, frustrated—Why did that make me smile?
Rachel followed us all the way to the big barn near the highway. The horse we’d arrived with stood grazing at the side of the barn with its snout buried in a tuft of grass.
“I can’t believe you two slept in here,” Rachel said, leading Atticus into the barn; she turned around and her nose scrunched up in her face as she glanced at the filth and spider webs. “Gives me the creeps.”
Atticus moved in behind Rachel like a blur, and Rachel shrieked when he pinned her arms behind her back, her long hair whipped around her.
“W-What are you doing!” Rachel screamed. “Let me go!”
I froze, eyes wide, as I tried to put together what was happening faster than my mind could grasp the pieces. “Atticus!” I shouted. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
Atticus moved across the barn floor and pinned Rachel’s body against the wall, pressing against her from behind, rendering her motionless.
“Oomph!” Rachel’s cheek flattened against the wood, her head turned to one side. “Fuckin’ lemme go! Are you crazy?!”
I stood shaking in my dress and my sandals. What’s happening?!
“Who’s coming?!” Atticus demanded through gritted teeth. “You tell me now who’s coming for us, or I’ll fucking kill you!”
“ATTICUS PLEASE!” I cried.
Feeling life rush into my limbs again, I ran up from behind, intent on stopping this, whatever it was, but Atticus swung his head around at me, and the only thing I stopped was myself. My chest heaved with breath; my mind swam in disorder. And fear. Seeing him treat Rachel so violently brought back all the horrors of being afraid of him as the Overseer.
“Thais,” he said, his eyes brimmed with anger and pleading, “I need you to back off for a second and wait. Can you do that?”
Although in my heart I knew his anger was not directed at me, my mind would let me interpret it no other way.
Rachel struggled against Atticus, the side of her face compressed against the hard surface. “You better let me go! I swear to God, you better let me go!”