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"Pull over"

"Are you feeling ill?" The worst is upon hiht is ruined

"Please, just do it"

He draws the car to the side of the road He expects her to burst from the door, but instead she turns to face hih Before he can utter another word, she takes his cheeks in her hands and draws hi his ether on Tuesday, see a filht, and on Saturday depart in the earlyThe city falls away as they drive deep into the heart of the country The day is cool, with fat white clouds, though the teins to rise as they make their est, away from the sea

It is just noon when they arrive in Headly The town has improved somewhat More commercial concerns now line the dusty main street, and the school has expanded A new municipal hall stands at the top of the square They check in to the inn--Logan has booked separate roo to assume too much--and, with a picnic lunch, drive on to the ranch

The sight is dispiriting The land, untended for years, is weedy and wild; the barn has caved in, as well as s The house is only a little better--paint peeling, porch tipping to one side, gutters languishing off the eaves Logan stands in silence for a e, but like all revisited places it seeraded condition disturbs hi of an e, of ho slightly apart fros diffidently, though the word "strange" hardly does the situation justice

"It’s really not so bad, you know I’m sure they can fix it up"

He does not want to enter the house yet They put their blanket on the ground and lay out their picnic: bread and cheese, fruit, smoked meat, lemonade The site they have selected has a view of the parched hills; the sun is hot but clouds scud past, creating brief intervals of shade As they eat, Logan points out the sites, explaining the history: the barns, the paddocks, the fields where horses once grazed, the thickets where he spent idle hours as a boy, lost in worlds of his own iins to relax; the tension bethat he remembers and what he now sees softens; the past flows forth, wanting to be told--though there is, of course, more to the story

The an takes the key from his pocket--it has lain in his desk drawer, untouched, for years--and lets them in The door opens directly onto the front parlor The air is stale Sos remain: a couple of armchairs, shelves, the desk where his father did his accounts A thick layer of dust coats every surface They move deeper into the house All the kitchen cabinets stand open, as if explored by hungry ghosts Despite the staleness, sed with the past

They press on to the back roonetic force There, covered by a tarp, is the unmistakable shape of the piano He pulls the cloth aside and raises the fallboard, exposing the keys, which are as yellow as old teeth

"Do you play?" Nessa asks

They are the first words either of thean depresses a key, expelling a sour note "Me? No" The sound hovers in the air, then is gone "I’m afraid I haven’t been co up "You asked ious family My mother hat used to be known as an ‘Amy dreamer’ Are you familiar with the term?"

Nessa frowns "Isn’t that a myth?"

"You mean, hasn’t modern science rebranded the phenomenon? In conventional terms, I suppose you could say she was crazy Schizophrenic with a tendency toward grandiosity That’s more or less what the doctors told us"

"But you don’t think so"

Logan shrugs "It’s not really a yes-or-no question Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t At least she came by it honestly Her maiden name was Jaxon"

Nessa is visibly taken aback "You’re First Fa I like to talk about People make assumptions"

"I hardly think these days anyone would make much of it"

"Oh, you’d be surprised Out here, folks put stock in a thing like that"