The door flew open, and Brynner stumbled in, soaked to the bone. Outside, hail clattered on the front porch, followed by a wall of rain like a shower curtain of gray. He grabbed the table and leaned over it, resting on his arms. “We got it.”
Behind him, a man at least Brynner’s height and twice his weight followed, looking like he’d gone for a swim in his clothes. “You shoulda seen him, Mom. Classic Carson. Put the meatskin down with barely a scratch.”
Barely a scratch? A river of red ran down Brynner’s scalp, from a cut on his head. His shirt clung to his skin, tracing the ripple of every muscle as he breathed in and out. He raised his head, catching his breath—and saw me. “Grace? What are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth to answer, and the air crackled, snapping like static electricity. A split second later, a roll of thunder like a bomb shook the house, and the lights went off. Above us, the baby wailed.
I grabbed the silence like a life jacket. “I need to talk to you about the journals. Now. We can go to my car, unless you’d like to have the conversation in the rain.”
Brynner put his head down on the table. “Can it wait until after dinner?”
The air snapped as lightning struck, followed by a rolling echo of thunder.
“Of course it can,” said the older woman. “Grace Roberts, pull up a chair beside your man and I’ll get a bowl of stew. You don’t need much light to stick a spoon in your mouth.” She raised her voice. “Luce, you coming to dinner?”
I stifled the urge to set her right, and instead took a seat beside Brynner, who dripped puddles onto the floor. Once the bowls were handed out, the conversation died to an absolute minimum. I can’t say what the others were doing, only that I’d forgotten how good beef stew could taste.
Once Brynner and the tall man, Rory, put away three bowls each, the conversation picked up. They laughed and argued about who’d seen the co-org first and how many times Brynner stabbed it.
Luce, on the other hand, spent her time attempting to turn Brynner to stone with her gaze. If looks dug holes, Brynner would have sported a full golf course.
A lull in the rain prompted Brynner to stand up and push his bowl to the center of the table. “I’ll do some dishes tomorrow morning, Mrs. Hughes. Mr. Hughes, you still looking for help?”
The old man nodded. “As I recall, farmwork don’t take to you much.”
Brynner shrugged. “I’ve never had a tiller try to strangle me. Grace, you wanted a word?”
I followed him out onto the porch. The skies still poured out like an overflowing bathtub, and the wind drove rain at an angle all the way to the door.
He pointed to the barn. “Ladder’s inside. Run for the door, climb the ladder.”
Without waiting, he ran. I hesitated, then sprinted through the downpour, into the dark barn.
“Up here.” Brynner’s voice called from the top of an iron ladder. “Come on, it’s not a hay loft.”
When I pushed the trapdoor at the top of the ladder, it opened to a carpeted apartment, easily the size of mine in Portland. Thick insulation made the driving rain sound like a soft patter. Through oval windows at each end, lightning strikes lit the whole apartment like camera flashes.
I rubbed a hand down the wall, feeling the wallpaper texture. “I thought wooden when you said barn. This is amazing.” Brynner grinned. “The old one burned down in an accident. I sort of set it on fire. Turn around.”
“Why?”
He took off his sopping wet shirt and threw it to the side. “Because I want to change, and I don’t trust you not to peek.”
I let his jab go in favor of a better one. “And the younger Mrs. Hughes? Did you set her on fire, too?”
BRYNNER
The awkward just never ended with this woman. “Can we just agree that if a woman in this town looks at me angry, I did something with her at some point? Please? It will save you time and me embarrassment.”
Grace almost smiled. “No. It’s about the only entertainment in this town. Outside of driving up to the quarry.”
I almost choked. I’d hoped that Grace wouldn’t have to know about that. “Turn around for real this time.”
She complied, and I got dressed faster than any of my many hotel-room escapes. Once I was decent, I lit a