The Qualities of Wood by Mary Vensel White

any danger…’
    â€˜Come on, Viv.’ Nowell pulled on her arm.
    She looked up at him irritably. ‘What?’
    Sheriff Townsend cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Gardiner, I’ll keep you apprised.’
    Katherine fidgeted with her purse.
    Mr Stokes watched Vivian intently and she began to get the impression that she was making everyone uncomfortable but didn’t know why.
    â€˜Thank you,’ she mumbled. ‘Thanks, Katherine, for the tour.’ She turned and walked toward the house, looking back once to see Nowell raise his hand in silent farewell to their visitors. Vivian took his gesture as an act of sympathy between them, between the men, as though apologizing for her outspokenness. She strode angrily to the house, not waiting for him to catch up and not looking back again.

6
    Vivian was standing at the refrigerator opening a beer when Nowell came in.
    He walked towards her and she moved abruptly away.
    â€˜What’s your problem?’ he asked, glowering over her.
    She swallowed a gulp of beer. ‘You didn’t have to act like I was some crazy person for asking a few questions.’
    â€˜Listen,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to cut you off with the sheriff. I’d already been talking to him for a while, and I figured he probably wanted to get out of here. Besides, I can take care of things.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜The sheriff. I can take care of it.’ He turned to leave.
    â€˜You didn’t ask him when he would call us,’ she said.
    Nowell spun around. ‘That girl was practically in our backyard. You can be sure he’ll let us know.’
    â€˜I didn’t realize you were such an expert in the protocol of police investigations.’ She grinned, but now he looked angry.
    â€˜You just have to know everything right away,’ he said. ‘But there’s nothing to know yet. You threatened the sheriff…’
    â€˜Threatened him, by asking questions? I was just concerned. Aren’t you worried about our safety?’
    â€˜Not until I have a reason to worry.’
    They stood several feet apart. An impasse. Outside, tree branches slapped against the north side of the house and leaves blew across the porch. She had noticed, in some peripheral zone of her brain, storm clouds forming. ‘I wonder what happened to her,’ Vivian said.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Nowell said. ‘I really don’t.’ He shook his head, looking down at the weathered yellow floor. Vivian realized that he was more affected by the sheriff’s visit than she had thought.
    â€˜It’s going to rain,’ she said. ‘My elbow hurts.’
    â€˜We should close the windows,’ Nowell said. He walked down the hallway.
    She went to the back door, rubbing her elbow and watching the flurry of weather outside. The night had come alive; the sky was brooding and thickly dark. A strong wind pushed the trees crazily into each other and lifted leaves and papers into tiny, racing cyclones. Vivian thought about the girl they had found and tried to picture her splayed across a wide, flat rock. The sheriff told Nowell she was seventeen years old. Vivianwondered how long she was there before the sheriff came, what she’d been wearing. She thought about their neighbor to the east, Mr Stokes, marching over the land like he owned it. The way he looked at her had been strange, judgmental.
    Nowell returned to the kitchen, rubbing his hands together. ‘They’re all closed now,’ he said. ‘It’s really something out there.’
    On cue, a crack of thunder echoed through the yellow kitchen. They both jumped.
    Nowell asked, ‘Do you need ice for your elbow?’ He nestled behind her, wrapped his arm across her collarbone.
    She felt a familiar tingle. ‘So you did hear me,’ she said.
    When the weather was wet and cool, the joints in Vivian’s knees and elbows were prone to soreness. An