Q Road by Bonnie Jo. Campbell Page B

corn. Rachel continued studying locations and measurements in relation to the river and creek. There were several rectangular plots and one triangular one with more closely spaced beds, and even one site, not far from the
Glutton
, where the garden had resembled a wagon wheel, round with spoke furrows emanating from a central mounded hub. If it were there today, Rachel figured, the creek would run through its center.
    George silently thanked his predecessors for documenting those gardens before plowing them under. Thank God he’d had something with which to lure Rachel inside. Though he had never harbored a violent thought against another human, George looked over at the tarnished brass doorknob and considered locking Rachel in this room and keeping her here. Not only did he find thisthought reprehensible even as it occurred to him, but he knew a girl like Rachel could get out of a locked room. In order to keep her here with him, he’d have to figure out exactly what she wanted and give it to her.
    The sun went down as they were sitting in the attic, and the slanted light through the west window made the air look so thick with dust that George was surprised they were breathing without effort. When it was nearly dark, he asked, “So how’s your ma?”
    â€œShe’s gone.” Rachel’s shoulders curled away from the wall as she spoke. “I haven’t seen her for more than two months.” In fact, it had been a year and a half; George was the first person she’d told.
    George felt a surge of relief at hearing this, though he knew only a brute could be happy about a girl losing her mother. He moved from the leather trunk and sat beside her on the floor. “So you’ve been living alone on that boat for two months.”
    â€œIt’s not a big deal.”
    They sat side by side, leaning against the rough plaster wall as the sun set, as the old dust settled. Rachel sighed and her shoulders sank further, and George imagined her disappearing beneath the floorboards as beneath the surface of a body of water. When she sighed again George negotiated his body between her and the wall so she sat between his legs with her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms and legs around her in a sitting position, so she was contained, buoyed within his limbs. He bent his head so it touched hers, and for hours in the dark he breathed through her hair. Rachel seemed to fall asleep and awaken intermittently throughout the night, stiffening against his arms and legs, then relaxing into them. When either of George’s legs fell asleep, he moved as slightly as possible to revive it. He listened for owls, but didn’t hear any, and in those hours he decided that from here forward he was all on his own with this girl. There was no manual of protocol that would explain or condone this, no council of elders who could grant approval due to exceptional circumstances. Allnight Rachel’s hands gripped George’s arms, but at the first strains of light she stood, disentangling herself from him. She grabbed the doorknob as though making sure she wasn’t trapped. She paused and said, “I’ll bring my ma’s chain saw and we can cut down the goddamn trees.”
    â€œFine. I can use the firewood.” George loved the maples, oaks, and hickories northwest of his house; he loved the woods, blossoming now with wild geranium, but Rachel could have it for her garden. She could burn down his house or level it if she wanted. George would gladly live with her in a wigwam if she’d have him. Whatever he’d once felt for his first wife was but a shimmer of what he felt for this person. His long marriage had been one stalk of desire that gradually sagged and then broke beneath the weight and decay of passing seasons. Now he felt acre after acre of this thrilling new crop sprout in a field so vast he couldn’t imagine its edges. He already needed Rachel the way he needed the