"I'll get the rest, loves. You go on out to the barn. Make a fort out of the straw bales or something. Your mother and I will finish cleaning up."
In a happy chatter and dropping suds, they flowed out of the kitchen, long hair and cries of "Hi, Mom!" streaming behind them.
The screen door slammed shut, and still Lilly stood, just inside the door of her mother's house, her arms around her middle. Penn was trapped, doomed to die maybe if he stayed out of a tree long enough. So why did she feel like a little girl who had hidden the broken cookie jar? He had been so beautiful, so dangerous.
"I can't believe you locked me in the chicken coop." Motions abrupt, her mother went to the sink to finish the dishes.
"I said I was sorry." Coming in, she tried to wash her hands to help, only to find herself rebuffed. "I didn't want you to hurt yourself."
"Like crawling through that chicken hole was easy? I could have used your help this morning out at Rock Island."
Lilly's head came up. "Doing what?"
Her mother huffed, setting the last rinsed plate to drip. "What do you think? I managed okay, but we're going to need to let a nest or two of eggs go to hatching. I was up all night thinking of how we could snare Penn without having to burn the woods." Her gaze went distant as she looked out at the fields, seeing nothing. "I love that woods."
She turned as the dishwater gurgled out. "Running water will hold him as much as stone, so I forced him into that tree on Rock Island, and once he was there, I shifted the water course back where it was when your grandparents moved here. The dam was almost rotted anyway. We lost the creek running by the house, but that's a small price to pay. Even in drought, Rock Island is going to be surrounded." Her expression softened. "The girls are safe. We all are."
Then who did I trap in the cave?
Seeing her horror and not understanding, her mother reached out and touched her shoulder. "Honey, it's okay. It's not the first time I've been locked in a henhouse."
Lilly reached for the table, her balance leaving her. Kevin. She hadn't killed him, had she? "You couldn't have trapped him in a tree. I trapped him in a cave," she said, feeling nauseated and sinking down on her chair at the table.
Her mother turned from putting the plates away, her confident smile fading. "What?"
What if she'd been wrong? She looked up, blinking. "He was with me this morning. At the caves by the north pasture. I trapped Penn in it behind a rock slide."
"You couldn't have," her mother said, her face pale. "I trapped him on Rock Island."
Lilly looked at the table, her fingers spanning the little red apples the plastic and felt tablecloth was decorated with, horror making it hard to breathe.
"Lilly . . ."
Had she killed Kevin by mistake? Oh God, what if she had!
Her mother's hand was shaking as it touched her shoulder, the older woman looking out through the kitchen window when a dusty police car eased into the yard. "It's Aaron," she said, her voice quavering.
Kevin's dad? Oh God.
Her mother gave her shoulder a warning squeeze. "We don't know that wasn't Penn in the cave. He might have escaped before I got the water to rise. You did good, Lilly. I'm proud of you."
Lilly stood, her chair scraping. "But it might have been Kevin! Mom, he might still be trapped. Alive!"
"What does Kevin have to do with this?"
A car door slammed, and Lilly scooted closer to her mother, almost frantic. "Penn looked like Kevin. Mom, what if it really was him?"
Lips a thin line, her mother flicked her attention to the porch. "It wasn't. Hush up!"
"Mom!"
"I said hush up!" It was an angry hiss of a sound, and Lilly jerked as her mother pinched her shoulder painfully. "What are the chances that I could trap him a second time? I'm an old woman, and he doesn't love me. Penn was with you. That was Penn with you before sunrise. If we open that cave up now, Penn will escape and he will be on Meg and Em before the moon rises. Now stop looking guilty!"
The last was accompanied by a savage squeeze, and then her mother let go, beaming a welcoming smile at the heavy steps on the porch and a soft knock at the screen door.
"Aaron, come on in!" her mother almost crowed, wiping her hands off on her apron and going to the door. "Let me get you a cup of coffee. What brings you out here this morning?"
The man looked tired as he pushed open the screen door, his officer uniform hanging wrinkled and a little loose on him. He was her mother's age, and working mostly because he knew everyone and he couldn't bring himself to retire. Pepper had gone to him, and he absently fondled the dog's ears as he nodded first at her mother, then Lilly. "Morning, Em. Lilly. You haven't seen Kevin this morning, have you?" he drawled, his cigarette-rough voice holding a hint of worry as he glanced at the unused place setting.
Fear struck Lilly, and she froze. They would take her children. Lock her away. "Last night, why?" she managed as she gathered the silverware, her fingers shaking. Behind her, her mother went to the coffeepot.
Aaron shifted from foot to foot, looking nothing like a police officer and everything like a worried father. "We found his truck this morning over at Perrot's pasture, his thermos of coffee still warm. You saw him last night?"
Oh God. She'd killed him. What if she had invented Penn all along, a delusion fueled by her anger and her mother's dementia, striking out at Kevin instead. Maybe she had wanted to kill him. What if she was crazy herself? "About nine," she heard herself say as she carefully put the knife and fork away, marveling at the even tone of her voice. "The girls were going to bed. I wanted to talk to him about . . ." She hesitated, not wanting to mention her earlier worries about her mother being crazy. ". . . something," she finished as she turned and went back for the pale white plate. "But he left. He didn't make it home last night?"
"By the looks of it, yes. You know anything about the explosion I heard this morning?" he said, and fear shifted through her.
"That was us, I'm afraid," her mother said, setting a steaming cup of coffee at table and putting a warning hand upon her shoulder. "I know I should have gotten a permit, but I was hoping that if we blew the dam early enough, no one would notice."
Lilly marveled at her mother's calm lie, wondering if she had ever known her at all.
"We shifted the creek back to its original bed this morning," she said as she gave Lilly's shoulder one last squeeze and returned to the coffeepot. "The girls are getting older, and I want to try beans in the lower field next year. We have enough to get by, but Meg is going to need tuition in a few years, and the creek isn't making us any money running in front of our house."