Page 24 of The Devil Knows Her Name

“Oh, no—those need to go in the freezer, actually. They’re for Paul to take with him when he—”

Evelyn broke off sharply and sniffed, ducking her head to hide the glassiness in her eyes. I thought her weepiness was heavy-handed at this point, but nonetheless I slung my arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze; she was soft as a sack of flour beneath her paisley shirt.

“Oh, chin up, lady,” Georgie said briskly. “These mugs aren’t going to pack themselves.”

“I know, I know.” Evelyn patted my hand and went back to the cupboard.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“We haven’t even touched the den,” Christine said, poking her head into the kitchen. “You can start there if you want.”

“I’m on it.”

I grabbed a box from the pile of empties and sidled past Paul and Shep to go to the den. It was pitch black when I went in, meaning I could make out the view through the window. Paul’s desk looked out over the barn and the small paddock where he kept the cows on the verge of calving. Unlike a big dairy, Paul only had calves in the spring, so it would’ve been empty this time of year regardless, but now it looked forlorn. I flicked the light on, took the box over to Paul’s bookcase, and started to pull volumes from the shelf, blowing off the dust as I went.

From here, the conversation in the rest of the house was nothing more than comforting background noise. I occasionally caught Christine’s tinkling laugh or an exclamation from Georgie, but not quite enough to follow the conversation. I slipped into it sometimes, hovering at the periphery, observing bits and pieces of their lives rather than being a part of them. It was only natural when I had so many secrets, so many things I couldn’t share.

I’d cleared the bookcase and was stepping back out into the hall when I nearly ran into another box. “Oh,” Paul said. “I was just bringing you this.”

“Oh, thanks.” I took it over to the desk and started wrapping up knickknacks, somewhat self-conscious as their owner watched me. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Mostly just tired. I probably won’t really know until I get out of Burrsville.”

“Yeah, you must’ve been busy the past couple weeks. I can’t believe you moved the cows so fast.”

“Well, they went to auction.”

I paused. Paul had always sworn up and down that his animals would never go to auction. “I want to do this till the day I die,” he’d said once, “but if I can’t, I want to know where they’re going.” I didn’t blame him for changing his mind about farming—it was a hard life, with backbreaking labor, long hours, and razor-thin margins between survival and disaster—but to pack all his beloved cows into a trailer and send them to an unknown fate?

That must’ve been hard, a better friend would’ve said, but I didn’t. It had been his choice, and he had every reason not to make it. He didn’t deserve to have any comfort in it.

“Your parents must be excited,” I said, changing the subject instead. “How long has it been since you were down there? A couple Christmases ago, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled. “A couple? That was eight years ago.”

“Was it really? Time flies.”

“Yeah. I know they’re happy I’m coming back, but I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment for all of us.”

“Paul?” came Evelyn’s voice. “Can you come here a sec? We need to know if you want to keep all these containers.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said to me. As soon as he was gone, I yanked open the desk drawers and hurriedly packed up the files inside. I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to come back and continue the stilted conversation, and I could feel the question that was looming: Will you come visit me?

When everything inside the desk was packed, I heaved up the box of books. The scabbed-over slice on my palm burned, and I hurried out to the living room to drop the books with the rest of the boxes.

“Den’s done, except for the furniture,” I announced. “What are you doing with that, Paul?”

“Bookshelf can go to the curb,” he said. “I was going to take the desk down to the thrift store.”

“You won’t need it?” Evelyn asked. Unlike the particleboard bookshelf, the desk was a nice piece of furniture. It had been the first real piece Paul bought, an investment in his business even while he was still sleeping on an air mattress.

“Not bad enough. I’m only taking what I can fit in the truck.”

“Why don’t you leave it with one of us?” Georgie asked. “We can rent a little pickup when we come out to see you, bring down a few things.”

“That’s too much trouble for some old stuff,” Paul said.

“Oh, shush, it won’t be any trouble at all. Tess will help us, won’t you, Tess? Wonder Woman over there.”