"Well, the weather's fine tonight, honey."
It was Betty London talking to me, barefoot and in a self-made flower printed dress that went to mid-shin. She was creaking in her rocking chair and I sat on the floor next to her on the front porch. Above us were only stars and behind us, the house. I'd put the babies in the barn for the night.
"I know it's fine," I said.
Betty looked at me with one eye, a talent of hers that tended to scare people off. I pretended not to see and kept my eyes on the horizon. Wheat fields for miles was all I could see, covered up by the dark.
"You'll never guess who I saw the other day," she said. "Just walking around like he owned the place."
"Who's that?"
"Your River."
I should have guessed. I did guess. But the name went through me like a bolt of lightning when she said it. Two more seconds and I recovered.
"Oh?"
"Mmm-hmmm," she drawled. "What's he up to these days anyway, Agnes?"
"I don't know," I said and clenched my mouth shut. First River and now she insists on "Agnes".
"What do you mean you don't know?" she persisted.
"I haven't talked to River in two years, Betty. I'm not about to start now."
Betty clucked her tongue knowingly, a sure sign that the picture was falling into place for her like it always did without anyone trying to explain.
"He doesn't know, does he?"
Of course, her near-mind-reading abilities always meant she knew too much.
"Know what, Betty?"
"I'm not fool, Agnes. Don't try playing me one now."
I turned around and looked at her.
"He knows he's a monster," I said.
"Last I heard he was the best thing the world ever brought you."
I didn't answer for a moment, then: "Things change."
"He's just a man to you, Agnes. But he's more than that to those boys."
"Don't bring them into this. They have nothing to do with River."
Betty cocked one eyebrow up at me and studied me like I was a pane of glass. Maybe I am, still, transparent like a window. But what you can't cure you can learn to live with. And if there isn't a remedy there are other solutions. Opaque curtains have done a good job.
"They may have nothing to do with River, girl, but he's got everything but half to do with them."
"No. Leave River alone. The discussion is over. The boys have nothing to do with River, I told you."
"You don't mean to say they're Valentine's?"
"I don't mean to say they're anyone's but mine. That should suffice, Betty. You'll know what you need to when I want you to know it."
I stood up and slapped my hands against my jeans to rid them of the dirt.
"You're playing yourself like a fool, Agnes Silver! You can run all you want from the truth but in the end you'll see it's just slapped you in the face and you've gone numb. No one gets nowhere while running in place."
I whirled around to her.
"I never run in place, Miss Betty! River does that. I move and that's it. I accomplish distance and destination."
"Mmm, you believe that, do you?"
"I know it."
"What's that smell?" she said suddenly, her neck craning up.
I followed her gaze with my eyes and froze when I took in the sight.
"Oh my God," she said. "Quick!"
And without thinking, I ran.