Page 68 of Call Off the Dark

“Oh my God,” she said as she looked into Isaac’s eyes.

He peered at her curiously from his seated position in the bed of the truck next to a large toolbox and some pieces of plywood.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought it’d be peaceful. Lay back and watch the sky and the birds overhead.” Isaac hoisted himself over the side of the truck, deftly landing on the ground. “I was wrong. It was bumpy as hell.”

He was so alive that she couldn’t help but reach out and grasp him, her fingers wrapping around his upper arm. He went still, and she released the hold almost immediately.

“Thank you for making your bed,” she said. It was the first thing she could think of to say, and it made her feel stupid as soon as the words left her mouth, as if her entire existence revolved around housework.

Isaac started toward the side of the house. “I owe you some wood too.”

Helen trailed behind him. She just wanted him in her line of vision, so she could keep confirming to herself that he was okay. For several minutes, she watched Isaac swing the ax and chop the wood. She was standing in the wide open of the yard, but he never looked at her or acknowledged that she was staring. He just let her be, as if she were having her own private moment, until eventually that started to make her feel as though they were having a shared private moment.

Helen turned away and walked to the front of the house. There, she located the discarded revolver in the grass and opened the chamber. She dumped six spent shells into her palm, and her mouth fell open in shock.

She tucked the revolver behind her gardening tools where Wade wouldn’t find it. Thank God the only other gun he owned, his rifle, was at the gun shop being repaired.

Helen entered the farmhouse, and Wade looked up wearily from his seat at the kitchen table. There was mud tracked from the door to the table because he hadn’t removed his boots.

She opened her palm, showing him the six spent shells. “What happened out there?”

“I shot him.” Wade’s tone was defeated. “The bullets went right through him, and he turned around and smiled at me.”

She shook her head in dismay. She didn’t know which was worse: that her husband was disappointed he’d been unable to kill his own brother or that he believed bullets could pass through Isaac without harming him.

Wade said, “There’s no dinner.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing to eat.”

Helen’s fist closed tightly around the spent shells. “I was a bit too worried to cook.”

“What am I supposed to eat?”

She bristled. Were they really talking about food right now? “I don’t know, Wade. Eat one of your packed lunches. Wednesday or Thursday looked pretty fucking tasty to me.”

She tossed the spent shells at him. They ricocheted off the table and clattered to the floor. Wade didn’t even flinch.

Outside, the sun was behind the trees and the temperature was dropping. Helen rounded the side of the house and found Isaac resting on the stump, chopped wood scattered at his feet.

“Did Wade try to shoot you?”

“Shoot me? What?” Isaac stood up. “No.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Helen rested her foot on a chopped piece of wood and rolled it back and forth with the toe of her shoe. The cut was clean.

“Helen?”

She looked up into Isaac’s questioning gaze and said, “Something’s really wrong with Wade.”

“I did see him point the gun at the sky and fire off some shots. I thought he was scaring away some animals or something.”

She nodded slowly. That made sense, and it made her feel slightly better.

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Why would you think he’d try to shoot me?”