Page 69 of Rainshadow Road

The little girl leaned forward to give Sam butterfly kisses with her eyelashes, and they rubbed noses.

As Mark went upstairs with Holly, Lucy and Sam organized the game pieces and the various colors of paper currency.

“She’s a sweetheart,” Lucy said.

“We lucked out,” Sam said. “Vick did a good job with her.”

“So have you and Mark. Holly is obviously happy and well taken care of.” Lucy wrapped a rubber band around the stack of accumulated money and handed it to him.

Sam closed the game box and gave Lucy a friendly, deliberate smile. “Want some wine?”

“That sounds nice.”

“Let’s drink it outside. There’s a strawberry moon out.”

“Strawberry moon? Why is it called that?”

“Full moon for June. Time to gather ripe strawberries. I would have assumed you’d heard the term from your dad.”

“I grew up hearing a lot of scientific terminology, but not the fun stuff.” Lucy grinned as she added, “I was so disappointed when my father told me that stardust was cosmic dirt—I imagined it was going to sparkle like pixie dust.”

In a few minutes Sam had carried her out to the front porch and lowered her into a wicker armchair with her leg propped on an ottoman. After handing her a glass of wine that tasted like berries and a hint of smoke, Sam sat in a chair beside hers. It was a clear night. You could see into the dark and infinite spaces between the stars.

“I like this,” Lucy said, realizing that Sam had poured their wine into old-fashioned jam jars. “I remember drinking out of these when I used to visit my grandparents.”

“In light of recent events,” Sam said, “I decided not to trust you with our good glassware.” He smiled at her expression.

As she averted her gaze from his, Lucy noticed that one of the Velcro straps on her splint wasn’t perfectly aligned. Awkwardly she reached down to straighten it.

Without a word Sam came to help her.

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “Sometimes I get kind of picky about wanting things to be lined up.”

“I know. You also like the seam of your sock to run straight across your toes. And you don’t like the foods on your plate to touch.”

Lucy gave him a sheepish glance. “Is it that obvious that I’m obsessive-compulsive?”

“Not really.”

“Yes it is. I used to drive Kevin crazy.”

“I’m very tolerant of ritualistic behavior,” Sam said. “It’s actually an evolutionary advantage. For example, a dog’s habit of turning circles on his bedding before lying down—that came from ancestors checking for snakes or dangerous creatures.”

Lucy laughed. “I can’t think of any benefits for my ritualistic behavior—it only serves to annoy people.”

“If it helped to get rid of Kevin,” Sam said, “I’d say it was a clear advantage.” He sat back in his chair, contemplating her. “Does he know?” he asked eventually.

Understanding what he was referring to, Lucy shook her head. “No one does.”

“Except me and Holly.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen in front of her,” Lucy said. “I’m sorry.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Sometimes if I feel something very strongly, and there’s glass nearby…” Her voice faded, and she hitched her shoulders in an awkward shrug.

“Emotion causes it to happen,” he said rather than asked.

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