Jonah eased the truck down the old mountain road, the girl curled up under a blanket beside him on the bench seat. He’d wrapped her in an old shirt of his, unable to bring himself to look in the old trunk for the yellow dress.
No one had been on the road yet, and the unmarred snow lay as pristine as it had fallen.
High above, turkey vultures carved circles in the sky.
As he descended down from the Gore, Jonah fished a cigarette from his jacket pocket, pushed the lighter into the truck’s dash.
A deer leaped in front of the truck. Jonah pumped the brakes. The girl did not budge as the deer, a yearling buck, stood in the middle of the road staring at the truck. Its coat was winter dark; its hot, living breath steamed in the frigid air as it tapped a front hoof, shivered so it shed water in a rain of silver droplets, then loped into the trees. Gone, a ghost.
The lighter popped from the dash.
Jonah lit his cigarette. The glowing coils of the lighter warmed his face, the tobacco crackling as he inhaled. He let the smoke leak from his mouth and nose as he started on down the road again.
The girl sneezed in her sleep.
Jonah cranked his window down and flicked the cigarette out into the snow.
The river valley lay in front of him, fields blanketed with snow. Silver maples and alders clumped at the riverbank, branches coated in a skin of ice so dazzling the branches appeared crafted of blown glass.
Decrepit barns sat out in the snowed fields, boards blasted pewter by generations of wind and rain and snow. Woodsmoke uncoiled from chimneys and hung low in the valley as cows stood out in the fields, their dumb gazes following the motion of the truck as they worked their cud.
Coming to One Dollar Bridge, Jonah slowed the truck. A weatherworn sign was nailed to the bridge brow: $1 fine for traveling faster than a walk on bridge.
The truck trundled onto the bridge, the world going dark.
The girl whimpered. Jonah put a hand on her shoulder. So many nights Sally had endured ear infections and colds, and he’d taken his turn rocking her, doing his best to soothe her, though it never felt like it was enough.
The truck bounced over railroad tracks as the snowy dirt road turned to plowed pavement. Jonah parked on the side of the road for a moment, where once a state trooper cruiser and TV crew van had parked. He looked at his old house. He’d not been inside it for twenty-five years. No one had, far as he knew.
A town plow charged up the road, its yellow lights busy, sand fanning behind it as snow flew from the blade.
A sheriff’s cruiser pulled to the stop sign on a side street, a block down from Jonah, then pulled onto Main Street and headed away from him, toward the old rectory that served as the sheriff’s office. Jonah waited to see if the cruiser would swing back his way.
It didn’t.
Nerves calmed, Jonah pulled down the street a few blocks and drove into the Gas-n-Go parking lot, parked at the side of the building. He knew he should take the girl to the sheriff immediately. But he wanted to get something for her. A gift. What would it hurt? He knew they’d ask, You stopped at the Gas-n-Go? Why would you do that?
Because he was hungry. And because. Well. He didn’t want to give the girl up just yet. He couldn’t tell them this. He couldn’t tell them that he could barely stand to part with her. She’d found him for a reason. He felt it. He knew it. But who would understand that? He didn’t understand it himself. He was not certain he even believed it, or just wanted to believe it.
You’re senile, the voice said. Sentimental and superstitious.
No. This girl, those eyes. Jonah had found her, in a pit. His mind carouseled around one continuous thought. What does it mean?
Why does it have to mean anything? the voice said. Fool. Give her back.
He would. But he was hungry, needed coffee, and a few more minutes with her. Just a few. And to give her a gift by which she could remember him. When he turned her over to the authorities, he was going to face an arduous day. Days. He wanted to let these last few minutes soak into his marrow. Enjoy them.
They’re not yours to enjoy, the voice said.
He pulled the blanket up to her chin, marveling at her. Then he got out.
He shut the door with a soft click and stood and watched her through the window. When he was certain she would not stir, he walked into the store.