For Good by Karelia Stetz-Waters

had gone to the same high school although he had graduated the year before she started. She had been in Future Farmers of America with his sister.
    “Is there something you want to tell me?” Cody asked.
    “I report on Tuesdays,” Marydale said. “I’m reporting.”
    The office was stuffy. A high, narrow window behind Cody’s head let in the sun but no view. Cody leaned back in his chair and twiddled a pencil between two fingers. His thinning hair was slicked with gel.
    “I heard you were talking to that new DA.”
    “I talk to all my customers,” Marydale said. “I’ve been demonstrating pro-social behaviors by maintaining regular employment and staying within the county lines unless in possession of written permission to travel.”
    The last time she had left the county—by accident, because she’d forgotten that State Road 7 dipped into Harney County for two miles—Cody had sanctioned her to fifteen days in jail.
    “Are you telling me how to do my job?” Cody demanded.
    He had small, close-set eyes that made him look piggy, like an underfed American Landrace.
    “No, sir,” Marydale drawled.
    “Don’t you get fresh with me. I will sanction you,” Cody said. “Do you want thirty days? I’ll give you thirty days.”
    “Cody.” Marydale sighed. “Sir. Mr. Densen. I’m reporting. What do you want?”
    Cody’s lips tightened into a thinner line. “Don’t think she’s going to find some loophole and get you off supervision. You are on supervision. Period. You can’t bribe your way out of this.”
    “Bribe?”
    “You offered her a room.”
    “I rented her a room.”
    Cody pressed his palms to the top of his desk. “Ronald Holten found out that she turned down his rental to live with you. Does she know about you?”
    Marydale tried for her best competition smile. “I thought you’d be happy. I’m not supposed to associate with criminals. If I get out of line, she can have me tried and convicted without leaving the house.”
    “Does she know?”
    “I don’t know,” Marydale said. “I don’t have to tell her. That’s not a condition of my parole.”
    Did she know? The question was like bad news in an unopened letter. She knew it was there; she just hadn’t looked. When truckers came through the diner for a coffee and a shortcake, they’d glance at her, then lean in to the waitresses and whisper, Heard she was the rodeo queen for three years running. Youngest queen west of the Rockies, and she did six years out at Holten Penitentiary. That a true story? Then Glenda or Janice or Frank would fold their arms and say, Her mother was a good woman, bless her. It was a way of saying yes and we don’t talk about it all in the same breath. And Marydale was always meant to overhear.
     “She wouldn’t be looking at renting a room from you if she knew, unless she’s looking…” False realization dawned on Cody’s piggy face.
    “It’s not like that,” Marydale said quickly. “She’s not.”
    She thought of Kristen’s kind refusal. I’m flattered, really. Her body ached.
    “She better not be. You know the conditions of your parole.”
    Marydale clutched the book in her hands. “I’m not allowed to enter into a relationship without your permission.”
    Somewhere in the building a phone rang and rang. In the hall outside, two women laughed, and one said, “I swear I’ll go crazy if I don’t get to Disney soon.”
    “You are not allowed to enter a female relationship without my permission,” Cody said.
     “I know,” Marydale said. “But you can’t stop me from renting a room to a respectable citizen. Even if Ronald Holten doesn’t like it.”
    “You may be out, but you are not a free woman.”
    “ I know !” Marydale said.
    “You better. And she better know about you and not some whitewashed version you want to tell her, because I might come by and pay you both a visit. Remember, I can come in your house any day, anytime, and I will tell her the truth.”
    “I’m sure