Twenty-Seven
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s go rescue Beck,” said Melissa.
Under a cloudless late afternoon sky, fading to purple where the sun had sunk below the horizon, the old truck swerved and skidded away from the farm. Its winter tires had been around for too many seasons. Beside Melissa, a diminished Daphne rubbed eyes swollen with tears. He’s dead, Melissa thought over and over. She spared only a brief, mournful thought for Marjorie, who had been old after all, and recently hospitalized. Melissa had officially lost her father forever, but Daphne’s sorrow surpassed hers in its intensity. To her astonishment Melissa felt relief spread over her body, like a soothing cream rubbed into dry, chafed skin. The big question in her psyche, which for years had spiralled like a long
