Summer crossed the back lot of the ranch with shoulders more slumped than they’d ever been. She carried with her only an apple, rather than the fruits from all her planning, hard labor, and good intentions. She shuffled across the dirt until she reached the far end and sat below what used to be a telephone booth.

Don’t sit so close to the tall grass. There might be snakes.

“I pity the snake that sinks its teeth into me,” Summer said. “The blood it’d draw would be cursed.”

Don’t say that.

“It’s true.” She polished the apple with the front of her overalls. “I’m a black stain. I’m no good to anyone and it’s high time I made peace with that.”

She bit into the apple. She watched buzzards soar overhead. One bird, then two, all steady on the updrafts.

“Luther?” She swallowed her bite. “Luther?”

I’m here.

“You got quiet, is all.” She studied a bruise in her apple. “You know I couldn’t handle it if you stopped talking to me.”

I just won’t play that game. That’s all.

“I ain’t playing no game.”

The pity parties. The self-loathing. I told you, I won’t have it. If you’re going to talk like that, you might as well talk to someone else. I won’t be your audience for it.

Summer sighed. Luther had a point. She’d worked so hard on her self-esteem since coming to the ranch. She’d come so far. She had fifty-eight days sober. She cut through the Principles like they were victims at a massacre.

She was perfect.

She was loved.

“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t understand how hard it is to keep from repeated learned behaviors.”

I understand completely.

“Of course you do. You understand everything.”

She scanned the horizon. She watched an armadillo hustle from one hole and into another. She took another bite from her apple.

“You’re the only one who understands me.”

That’s not true.

“Oh yeah? Who, then?”

Do I really have to spell it out for you?

Summer opened wide her mouth. She slapped at the air in front of her.

“Stop teasing and tell me.”

Think about it.

“Donnie?”

He’s cute.

“He’s a little straight and narrow for my tastes, don’t you think?”

You’d be surprised what kind of darkness he has inside of him.

“I’m tired of the darkness.” Rather than finish the rest of her apple, she tossed it into the weeds. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to spend a bit more time here in the light.”

Summer rose and walked further into the pasture. She ducked between strands of barbed wire, then kept going. Stepping over petrified patties of cow shit and around prickly mesquite shrubs, she came upon an old bass tank. The waters quivered and quaked as turtles, frogs, and whatnot scattered at the sight of her. A crane took flight. She looked out, over the hilly horizon. The sun was setting. The landscape burned brilliant, a color she’d never before seen.

“You’re doing a good job with this one, Luther.”

Thank you.

“No…thank you.” When everything returned still, she said, “Do you really think he understands me?”

The two of you are cut from the same cloth. Where you are weak, he is strong. And vice versa. You are the perfect complements of each other.

“You’ve said the same thing before.” Summer crossed her arms. “And look where that got me.”

Exactly. Where it got you. If it weren’t for everything that’s ever happened, do you think you still would have ended up right here, right now?

Summer nodded her head. “That’s a good point, Luther.”

He is a firm, guiding hand. He’ll be good to have around in a week or two, because based on my calculations that’s around the time you will be—

“Speaking of calculations,” said Summer, “he’s got a great head for numbers. Let’s face it, math is not my strong suit.”

Right.

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders.” Summer’s cheeks flushed. “He sure does. You know, I’ve heard him talk about the plans he has for the ranch. How he says if we planted corn and cotton in yonder fallow fields, we could gin it in town and make enough money to sustain ourselves for years.”

If not for his father…

“And how any day, those Miracle Dolls will take off and become collector’s items. Any day…I can just feel it.”

If only Barney allowed him to market them on the internet. Can you imagine what you could do for the Ranch, if Barney allowed an internet connection?

“I could turn this ranch into something big, you know. They’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.”

When they find out…

“I could bring them into social media. I’d get them on all the latest platforms.” It grew dark. She squinted at a fresh star winking overhead. “Maybe fetch us a celebrity to clean up, so we could get on the cover of People or Parade magazines.”

Barney would never go for it.

“That man is a fool,” she said. “He’s got no clue how to run a sober camp.”

He’s served his purpose.

“Sure, he did.” Summer leaned back in the craggy grass. She stared up to the crescent moon. “Maybe it’s high time we move him along.”

Focus on a goal with every ounce of love you can muster. Concentrate. Make it so.

Summer closed tight her eyes. She balled her fists. She squeezed the whole of her body so tight, her teeth nearly popped out. When she could tense her muscles no further, she relaxed them with a heavy sigh. Her ears rang long after, and her lungs could not receive enough air.

“I did it.” She lay still in the craggy grass. “I focused like a motherfucker.”

Good for you. Now you must go to him, because he needs you.

“Who? Donnie?” Summer smiled sideways. “I’m just a washed-up old junkie. What could he possibly need with a wing nut like me?”

Far off, a hoot owl gave plenty warning. A coyote’s song filled the arroyo.

“Luther?”

There was no reply.

“Luther?” Summer sat up. Her hands scrabbled at the dry dirt alongside her. “Luther, I was only kidding. I was just funning you. I know I’m more than a wing nut. I’m a Miracle. I’m loved. I’m—”

Summer, I’m serious.

“So am I. I didn’t—”

Summer…he needs you.

Summer didn’t like the tone in his voice. She cocked her head sideways, like a dog at a whistle. Any hint of a smile quit her face.

“What do you mean? You mean…he’s in trouble?”

Summer, now! He needs your help!

Summer needed no further encouragement. She made tracks across the pasture, leapt the barbed wire in a single bound, and headed straight for the Big House.

 

SUMMER KNOCKED once, but didn’t bother to wait as she punched open the back door of the Big House. She stumbled through the kitchen, the hallway, all the way to the living room before she stopped at the threshold, then used it to keep herself upright.

“Oh, dear Luther…” She did her level best to keep it together. “What have we done?”

Donnie Williams stood in the center of the room. His shoulders and chest heaved like that of a wounded animal. The room stunk of fear and something metal, like copper, and the walls had been splattered with blood.

“Oh my—” Summer slipped a hand to her mouth. “I willed this to happen.”

Donnie stood over the corpse of his father. The both of them were soaked straight through with enough ink-black blood that Summer could not tell if it came from one or the both of them. Donnie’s hands shook so hard she thought his arms might vibrate straight from their sockets. He held a bloodied pencil in one of them, and a gaping mouth on his face.

“I asked him to stop talking about my mother.” He could speak only in mumbles. “I begged him.”

Bubbles formed and popped at a jagged hole in Barney’s neck. It was the only movement from the old man.

“He said she gave herself the cancer,” whispered Donnie. “That she’d brought it on herself. He said she deserved to die. He said…” Donnie dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, what have I done?”

“You didn’t do anything,” she stammered. “It was me. I did this. I swear to Luther, I was just out in the pasture and I made this happen.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I do.” Summer hopped up and down, splashing in the gore as if it were rain puddles. “Luther was right. All you have to do is focus your energies and great things will happen.”

“I killed my father.” Donnie rocked back and forth, as if he’d gone simple. “I stabbed him in the throat with a pencil. That’s what happened. He was right: I’m just like my mother.”

“I will not attend your pity party.” Summer waded into the blood and stepped around one side of the dead man, then the other. She made mental measurements. “If Luther did not want this to happen, then it would not have happened. This is but a single step in a very long journey for you and me.”

“There is no journey.” Donnie collapsed to his knees, sending a salvo of the old man into both their faces. “I’ll spend the rest of my life in a jail.”

“I won’t let you go to prison.”

“When the police hear what happened—”

Summer lowered herself to his level. She cupped his cheeks with both of her hands.

“They’re not going to hear what happened.”

Donnie stopped his simpering. His eyes quivered, but he kept her gaze.

“No one’s going to hear a thing.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because no one’s going to find his body.”

Donnie sniffled. He looked her up and down.

“How so?”

“We’re going to hide it.”

“What do you know about hiding a body?”

Summer shook her head. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about it.” Behind her, Luther paced the floor. “No, I don’t think I’ve got the wherewithal. But I know someone who does.”

Summer…

“Hush, Luther. I got this.”

Donnie cocked his head. “Who?”

“Somebody I can’t wait to see how happy I am,” she said. “Someone who needs to see I could make it on my own after all.”