Jonah jarred awake, mind cobwebbed with memories and dreams. A pale ghost stood beside him, a slight luminescent hobgoblin with dark lost eyes.
Jonah’s mind ached as it lingered in the netherworld and he saw himself sitting at the edge of the pit with Lucinda, his arm around her, holding her as she sobbed; her father charging from behind to knock Jonah to the ground, beating on him as if he believed Jonah meant Lucinda harm. Then the image was gone. No, not gone. There, yet invisible, dust in a bar of sunshine vanishing with the drawing of the window shade.
A ghost hovered at his periphery.
Not a ghost. An angel.
The girl.
How had he gotten out here on the porch? He didn’t remember. Couldn’t remember. The ATV. He’d come out to stand guard, protect her. And he’d dozed. Failed her. Why could he not stay awake?
The girl sucked on the corner of the towel he’d given her and nodded at his feet. The rifle had fallen from his lap, with its hammer cocked. It could have gone off. Killed him. Killed her. Could still go off if not lifted carefully.
He eyed the rifle.
She reached for the rifle to help. Her small hand clutching at it. Near the hammer.
“No,” he said.
She reached for it.
“No,” he shouted. “Leave it, damn it.”
She cried out and covered her head with her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Jonah said. “Sorry. It’s dangerous.” He tried to bring calm to his voice. If she’d picked up the rifle before waking him . . .
She sniffled, curled away from him, face hidden.
“It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. Daddy’s not mad. Okay. Just. Don’t touch. I’ll get it, go on in.”
She sucked on the corner of the towel.
He grabbed the rifle, swung the muzzle away from her, eased down the hammer.
What do you think you’re doing? the voice said.
“Who are you?” Jonah said. “Tell me your name.”
The girl looked at her hands.
“You must have a name,” he said. “We all have names.”
She sucked on the towel. Why would she not tell him?
“You must have a name. Pretty one, I bet,” he said.
She stared at him unblinking.
“I have to call you something. I can’t just call you ‘girl.’ That’s silly, right?” Jonah said. “If you won’t tell me your name, we’ll have to pick one. Yes?”
Her dark eyes seemed to take in the question but revealed no answer as she remained voiceless.
“We’ll have to give it thought,” Jonah said. “I had a daughter once, Sally. A long time ago. When I was someone else. She looked so much like you, it’s scary.”