Since… since when? This morning? This afternoon? Panic, like a meaty hand, gripped his throat. Since before stopping at the liquor store. He hadn’t thought of her once since then. He had forgotten to remember. He steered the pickup to the shoulder of the road and got his four-ways on before the tears blinded him and he buckled over, hacking, the steering wheel cutting a groove in his forehead. He wept for his wife, and for forgetting, and for all the things he had loved and damaged. PENTECOST May I Her car gave out on the Schuylerville Road. At night, of course. At least five miles from the Stewart’s on Route 117. No, Stewart’s didn’t have a garage, did they? Just pumps. Hadley tipped her head back against the seat and breathed slowly and deeply. I am not going to fall apart. She was going to count her blessings. It was a 45-degree night in mid-May, instead of a 15-degree night in mid-February. The kids were safe at home, hopefully, please God, not harassing their greatgrandfather into complete exhaustion.
