BY THE TIME they made it back up to the barn, much of their anger seemed to have melted in the sun. Though he was about four paces ahead of her, Simon dropped back as they neared the house, which was his way of apologizing. Ruby reached over and punched his shoulder, which was hers. There were too many possibilities to discuss, too many things to marvel over; this was simply too big for them to stay mad at each other for long.
As they ducked into the barn, Dad looked up and waved a wrench in greeting. “Anyone want to keep me company?”
“No,” they both said at once, laughing.
Simon grabbed a couple of mitts and a baseball, and for once, Ruby didn’t argue. They trooped back out into the heat together, zigzagging between the puddles on the gravel drive, which were already drying up again.
Behind the house, they spread out, and Simon tossed the old baseball in her direction. They played in silence for a while, like actors going through the motions, pretending things were normal, though they were both keenly aware of the hours still left before they were due to meet Otis.
“I wonder how much you can do,” Ruby said, stooping to pick up the ball after it had fallen out of her mitt. “I mean, do you think it’s just rain showers and stuff? Or, like, tornadoes and hurricanes?”
Simon wiggled his eyebrows at the sky. “Abracadabra.”
Ruby looked up, half expecting a sudden hailstorm.
“See?” he said with a shrug. “The only thing I’m good at so far is frying toasters.”
Ruby laughed. “But you’re really good at that.”
He took a little bow. But when he straightened again, his face was serious. “Why didn’t Otis stay and talk to me yesterday?”
“I guess he had to go.”
“Go where?”
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. How could she tell him about the man in the waiting room, about the fact that there might be other people after him? Especially when she didn’t know anything for sure? Tonight, Otis could explain everything. In the meantime, there was no sense in worrying Simon.
“Hey, I bet you could learn to make it snow,” she said, and his face relaxed into a grin.
“I’d make every day a snow day,” he said. “No more school.”
“And no more rain delays for your baseball games.”
“And no more of this heat,” he said with a groan, tilting his head back and laughing at the high ball of sun in the sky. Ruby smiled, too. It was easier this way, imagining a blizzard in July or a tropical Christmas. It was far simpler to ignore the darker threats and immediate dangers, to get lost in the magic of it, the impossible gift that had fallen into their midst.
Around noon, the day began to grow even hotter, and when they passed Dad on their way back to the barn, he was scowling so hard at the sky that he barely noticed them.
“Maybe I should help him out and try to make it rain again,” Simon said under his breath, and though Ruby knew he was half joking, she still remained quiet. It wasn’t fair not to tell him about the conversation she’d overheard the night before, about how bad things really were with the farm. But there was a part of her that was afraid to do it.
Because what if he could make it rain again?
Ruby knew she was awful—she was mean and horrible and pathetic—but there was a small and miserable part of her that couldn’t help rooting for the farm’s failure. Especially if it meant going back to the way things used to be.
And so she kept quiet.
Without their exactly agreeing to it, Ruby realized they were both avoiding Mom and Dad. At lunchtime, Simon ducked into the kitchen and grabbed their sandwiches before Mom had time to do more than ask how he was feeling, and they spent the rest of the afternoon dodging Dad as he cleaned up after the storm. It was almost like how things used to be between the two of them, moving as a unit, everything in silent accord.
When Mom finally called them to dinner later, Simon and Ruby exchanged a glance before walking slowly toward the house. They both knew this wasn’t something to share with their parents—it was much too fragile and far too important—but Simon had never been particularly good at keeping secrets.
Ruby opened her mouth to remind him, but Simon held up a hand. “I know, I know,” he said. “Not a word.”
In the kitchen, Dad was busy setting the table—usually the twins’ job—and Mom was carrying over a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Ruby saw there was a small plate of cupcakes with green frosting on the counter.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, and Mom smiled as she pulled out her chair.
“We thought we could use a treat after last night.”
“Exactly,” Dad said. “We’re just glad Simon’s back to normal.”
Ruby nearly choked on her water, and Simon shot her a look.
“And,” Dad said, leaning forward and braiding his fingers together in the way he always did when trying not to give something away, “your mother sold her painting today.”
“Mom!” Ruby said, jumping up to give her a hug. “Congratulations!”
“That’s awesome,” Simon said, digging into his pasta. “Does that mean we don’t have to worry about money anymore?”
Mom and Dad glanced at each other, and Ruby slipped back into her seat.
“It wasn’t a big sale,” Mom explained gently. “Just the first.”
“Which is really exciting,” Dad said, reaching to place his hand over hers. “And the start of many more to come.”
Simon stabbed a meatball with his fork. “Awesome,” he said again.
“Who bought it?” Ruby asked, and Mom beamed.
“The bank in town, actually. One of the women who works there saw it when she came by last week, and she’s going to hang it in her office there.”
Ruby looked up. “Someone from the bank came by?”
“Just a routine visit to pick up some paperwork,” Dad said quickly.
Simon—completely oblivious—dropped his fork with a clatter, then stood to grab the basket of bread. They all stared as he piled several slices on his plate.
“Jeez, Simon,” Mom said. “Dad should be doing a scientific study on you.”
“Normal Eating Habits of the Twelve-Year-Old Male,” Dad joked, and Simon looked up from his plate, his chin red with pasta sauce.
“Exactly,” he said. “Normal.”
It was just before dusk when they wheeled their bikes from the barn. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and Simon slapped at his knee as they set off together, moving with a kind of unspoken urgency. At the end of the drive Ruby coasted ahead, leading them to the left, following the same route she’d taken just the previous morning, though it seemed much longer ago.
The windmills looked different at this time of day, bright against the fading colors of the evening sky. Simon had slowed down and was staring up in quiet awe, and Ruby felt a kind of peace overtake her at the sight of them. She hoped that someday someone would look at an invention of her dad’s and feel the same way.
When they rounded the bend, she stood up on the pedals, trying to catch a glimpse of the hay wagon, looking for the familiar shape of Otis’s hat. She hopped off the bike and let it clatter to the ground, then ran the rest of the way between the crops. But as she drew closer, she couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that was starting to surface, and by the time she reached the hay wagon, she knew it was true.
Otis wasn’t there.
Ruby spun around to face Simon, who was a few steps behind.
“Are you sure this is when he said to meet?”
“You saw the note,” she said, aware of the rising panic in her voice.
“Well, are you sure this is the right place?”
She nodded stiffly. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on seeing Otis again, hadn’t even paused to consider that he might not return. And now it was as if something inside her had collapsed, like the wind had rushed right out of her. She sat down in the dirt, still muddy from yesterday’s rain, and rested her forehead on her knees.
“Hey,” Simon said, sitting down beside her. “It’s okay. He’s probably just late.”
“He’s not,” Ruby said, her voice choked. “He would’ve been here.”
The evening had darkened a shade, and the crows in the field had gone quiet. A rabbit darted between stalks of corn and paused when it saw them, nose twitching, before running off again. Above them, the windmills continued their steady rotation, always moving, but going nowhere.
“What now?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded so unlike him, so unsure, that it took everything in Ruby not to cry.
“Maybe he meant tomorrow night,” she said without much hope.
“Then wouldn’t he have said so?”
“Yeah, but just maybe…”
Simon stood up and brushed off the back of his shorts. The sky was growing rapidly darker, and they both knew they’d be in trouble if they didn’t start for home soon. They walked their bikes across the uneven ground, the tires bouncing over rocks, and when they’d made it out to the road, they stood there for a moment and looked back, reluctant to give up. But nobody was there and nobody was coming.
They were all alone.