Say No More by Gemini Sasson Page B

blanket to peer at me. He glanced toward the kitchen, the corners of his mouth weighed down with a frown.
    “It’s my fault, Halo,” he whispered. “I yelled ... but Daddy didn’t hear me.”
    Before I could position myself beside him for a hug, he had rolled back up in his little woolen cocoon to shut out the world.
    Several taps sounded against the kitchen window. I got to my feet, padded the few steps to the hallway, and looked. It was only the branches of a crabapple tree planted too close to the house slapping against the pane there. Outside, the wind blew hard, leaking around the old windows so that it began to make a howling sound. The soffits rattled something fierce and the front storm door suddenly started banging against its frame every time a gust came along.
    It didn’t look like a good day for going to the park to me.
    “We’re probably going to lose shingles again,” Lise complained as she rose and went to the front door. When she opened it to pull the storm door shut and latch it, a frigid draft of air rolled through the room. She tossed herself on the couch with a loud oomph . “After gutting the kitchen and having it eat up all our spare weekends, you didn’t want to fix anything else. And I get that, Cam. I do. But you also promised me we’d be out of here by the end of the year. And now ...”
    For a painfully long time, she stared into space, her gaze finally settling on the buffet table where the family pictures were arranged. On one end was a photo of Cam showing his prize steer at the Adair County Fair. Chin held high, his right hand gripping the braided halter on the steer, he looked back at the camera from beneath the brim of his white hat with an almost arrogant pride. He was younger then, not quite as tall, not nearly as muscular. But Lise had often told him how dashing he looked in that navy blue checkered shirt with the mother-of-pearl buttons and his calf-high cowboy boots. Although Hunter was barely five now, he was already starting to look a lot like his father, with the same straight, sandy blond locks, dark eyelashes, and deeply carved dimples.
    Sniffing, Lise tugged the hem of her shirt up and stroked her bare tummy. “Your daddy was a handsome guy, Baby Girl. Oh, I know you’re a girl, all right. I just know.”
    Then she put her shirt back down and covered herself with the throw blanket that had been wadded up at the end of the couch. I expected more tears, but maybe she was too exhausted for another round. Instead, she tugged her phone out of her pocket, tapped out a text message, then laid it on the floor and went to sleep.
    —o00o—
    Find him, Halo , Cam’s voice whispered. Find him.
    I drifted on the verge between dreaming and waking, as I tried to focus on Cam’s words. But the harder I tried, the less I could hear him.
    The phone rang.
    Lise sat up straight as a rod, blinking hard. We must have all fallen asleep. Even with the TV blaring and the wind beating at the house like it was going to lift it off its foundations and carry it away to Oz.
    Cool air swirled around me, so I crawled my way over to the register and stretched out over it. The heat wasn’t on, but the metal was still hot. Any moment now, I’d hear the familiar ‘clunk’ of the old furnace down in the cellar and its warmth would tickle my stomach.
    “Hey, Grace.” Scrunching up her face, Lise rubbed at the back of her neck. “Naw, where would I go, anyway? ... Yeah, sure. This afternoon is perfect. Bring as many boxes as you can fit in your car. I haven’t gotten much of a start — just thinking of it is like ... I don’t know. Frightening. Painful. Like packing up my heart. This place isn’t much, but it was ... ours .” She forced the last word out in a raspy whisper, like she was going to fall apart one more time after the hundreds of times she’d already lost it. But never in front of Hunter.
    I looked toward the heap of blankets he’d burrowed beneath earlier, but he wasn’t there.