Page 16 of Call Off the Dark

At the top of the page, Helen had scrawled the words Things to Talk with Agnes About. Beneath that was a list.

Agnes watched as Helen read from the wrinkled, handwritten piece of paper.

Scanning the topics, Helen said, “Okay, so here are the riveting options: I fell in the shed and still have a monster bruise from it . . . Wade made some comments about the way I cook oatmeal . . .”

Agnes said, “I want to hear that first.”

“If we walk down to the pond, there’s a beaver den . . .”

“Sorry, I can’t stay long enough to hit the pond.”

Helen stopped reading. Agnes had just arrived and already she was talking about leaving. The energy in the room shifted.

Agnes said, “My dad wants me home by four. Roofing calls.”

“Oh.” That was all Helen could think to say.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Agnes looked apologetic.

“Of course.”

“I just wanted to stop in real quick. Check on you.”

Helen nodded. There was a reason the list was so creased and crumpled. On her loneliest days, she took the paper out and carried it around with her, read it to herself between chores, and pondered the things she might say. Those lead scribbles were a promise of future conversations that she was always waiting to have.

Helen folded the paper in half. She’d have to wait a little longer.

Agnes finished the last bite of her carrot. As she tossed the stem end into the compost bin under the sink, she said, “I have some things to add to the list.”

“Oh?” Helen brightened up and grabbed a pencil from inside the drawer.

“Last time, you told me about that history class.”

“On the Klondike Gold Rush?”

“Yeah! So wild. I had more questions.”

Helen unfolded the paper and wrote gold rush. “Are you thinking about heading to Alaska with a pan?”

“No!” Agnes said quickly, but not before her eyes flashed with curiosity. “Why? Do you think there’s still gold?”

“Not that you can get from the river with a pan.”

“Damn. I guess I’m stuck roofing until further notice.” Agnes sighed dramatically and then laughed. “And I need to ask you about concerts. I’ve never been, you know. I don’t count some old guys with their guitars at the grange. I was thinking maybe I’d go to one in Seattle. Maybe you’d want to go too.”

“It might be hard for me to get away,” Helen said, and she instantly felt regret. She didn’t want to hurt Agnes’s feelings, but she just couldn’t imagine herself at a concert anymore, and certainly not one in Seattle.

Agnes tried to cover her disappointment with a shrug. “Yeah, I get it. Maybe you could tell me which places to go.”

“Sure, I know all the best places,” Helen said as she added the topic to the list. Then she peered at Agnes for a beat. “This isn’t on the list, but I buried a raven by my garden. Do you want to see it before you go?”

Agnes scrunched her face. “A dead raven? Definitely.”

The two women stood in front of the little grave. Helen didn’t want to tell Agnes she had accidentally shot the bird, so she lied and said she found it by the garden.

Agnes asked, “Why didn’t you just toss it in the woods?”

“I didn’t want the coyotes to eat it.”