A Book of Dust and Breath

Chapter Fourteen

The truck she loved had seemed absurd in the city. Here, it bounced along the country road with a harmony that suggested joy in having found a perfect home. Unable to go more than thirty-five miles per hour around the sharp twists that followed the river toward town, Lily kept both hands on the wheel, but couldn't help letting her eyes roam the vast land. Amidst the sea of churned-up dirt, little islands of grass and trees appeared, each boasting a house, a barn or two, and half a dozen vehicles including a tractor or two.

In the far distance, some kind of factory puffed billowing white clouds of smoke into the crystal blue sky.

She drove past the entrance to the school where an enormous boulder was painted black with shocking pink letters that read, "Girls count, too!" She'd asked about it when they'd passed it the day before. Max said there was a controversy over a girl who wanted to be on the football team. In this land, where men had ruled the homesteads for well over a century, a good number of young women stood ready to assert their influence on the twenty-first century.

The library was a little one-story cube, shaded by two massive maple trees. Two elderly women walked toward it, a tiny black and white kitten stalking them through the litter of last fall's leaves.

Just across the street from there, a man in horrid blue uniform shorts came bouncing down the steps of the post office, enormous bags of mail hanging from both shoulders, and on the next corner, as promised, she found the offices of St. John's Realty. A sign on the door asked, "Please tie your dog outside. We're happy to provide water."

She peeked in the window of the local Senior Citizen Center next door. Half dozen men and women laughed over a round table scattered with cards.

A woman jogged by pushing a stroller, her pretty red curls bouncing on her shoulders with every step.

So this was America's Heartland. Lily thought maybe she could learn to love it.

She pushed open the driver's door and hopped down to the pavement.

"That's quite a truck for a little lady like you."

An old man with skin like ancient, brown parchment peered out at her from the open window of a thirty-year-old El Camino. A walrus mustache drooped over his lips. His eyes crinkled at the corners like he never stopped smiling. Extraordinary bushy white eyebrows stuck out, the most prominent feature on his face.

"I'm not so little," she said with a smile.

He chuckled. "True enough. You're new here."

She closed the door and leaned back against it, the better to see him. "What gave me away?"

"I remember pretty girls."

She couldn't resist smiling at him. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"I'm completely charmed. Also, completely spoken for. I just got married."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Always too late. Who'd you marry? Not the McFarrin kid? I can't stand him. He's a punk."

"I married Max Metit." A thrill of electricity zipped across her skin. How odd and wonderful it felt to say the words!

"Grouchy guy? Lives all alone in the haunted house?"

"Smart, charming guy. Lives with his wife in an old, beautifully restored farmhouse."

"House is haunted," he said, smacking his gums.

The goosebumps re-appeared. "What would make you think that?"

"Been haunted for a hundred years. Everybody knows."