“It’s the only reason I have.” She looked at the dish instead of at me.

“You were nine when we left you here.

I’ve had twenty-two years to understand what that was.”

The house creaked the way it does when the sun swings around to the west side.

A dog started barking out back and then stopped.

“He’s been taking care of things since March,” she said.

“The bills, the bank, everything.

He knows where every piece of paper is.”