Saturday morning I headed over to Afi’s to help out. Jack, I knew, was at his parents’ place doing his part in their cleanup. This shared activity felt like a small connection during our day-after duties.

Upon arrival, I couldn’t help exclaiming, “Whoa. This place is a —”

“Damn mess,” Afi finished for me.

I surveyed the scene before me. A tree limb had crashed though the front window. Daylight streamed through its jagged edges, casting a zigzag reflection upon the merchandise-littered floor. A broom-in-hand Ofelia came around one of the aisles, sweeping as she went. Dust floated up like mist, obscuring the space between us. When it had settled, I found her giving me a puzzled look, which turned quickly to surprise, then disappointment.

“Did you hear about Leira?” I asked her, diverting attention from me.

“Doing better, I hear,” Ofelia said.

“She’s being discharged today. The doctors are calling it a remarkable turnaround.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ofelia said. “Your mother and Stanley must be so happy.”

“Over the moon,” I said. “And back again.” I pointed to the dark light fixture overhead. “Any word on power?”

“Sure,” Afi said. “The word is out.”

“What does the back room look like?” I asked, biting back a smile.

“That’s the worst of it. If I’d wanted a gosh-darn skylight,” Afi said, shaking his head, “I’d have put one in myself.”

My eyes popped open. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s what the insurance agent said.” Afi scratched his stubbly chin. “Could be the damage exceeds the value of the place.”

“That sounds even worse,” I said.

“If it comes to that, I’ll take it as a sign. I needed this like I needed a hole in my . . . roof.” He swiped at the air with his hand and turned on his heel, heading for the back.

The front door chimed; Jinky and Penny walked in. Penny’s knee was bandaged, but her limp was already improved from the day before.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“We came to help,” Penny said. “Jinky told me she was on her way over, and I volunteered.”

“That’s so nice of you guys,” I said. “But are you sure that’s a good idea with your injury?”

“It’s just banged up. Besides, it feels good to get out of the house and do something.” Penny tugged a rope bracelet back into position. “Keeps me from worrying too much.”

“About what?” I asked.

Penny exchanged a look with Jinky. “Marik. He’s just not himself. I keep trying to get him to go to the doctor, but he won’t listen. He’s just so stubborn.”

“It’s a guy thing,” Jinky said, nudging her shoulder into Penny’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

It seemed a promise Jinky couldn’t keep. I wondered how much she understood of what had transpired yesterday. Not the full story, it would appear.

Marik was my biggest regret. Because the shell-game dream and my subsequent suspension were both followed so quickly by Idunn’s grift, I never had the chance to snag him a soul. And I would have, dang it all.

“What’s the word around here?” Penny asked. “It doesn’t look so bad.”

“The back took the brunt of it,” Ofelia said. “A sizable chunk of the roof was blown away.”

“Oh, no,” Penny said.

“Unfortunately, it could be the final straw that forces him out of this place,” I said. “And I can’t imagine Norse Falls without the store.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about how this would affect you, Ofelia. What would you do?”

She leaned on her broom. “You know, Jinky came to me for advice on that New Age shop she and Penny designed. It’s not a bad idea. Something to think about for the future.” She lifted her mischief-filled eyes. “And I know of a multitalented individual who would be an ideal . . . consultant, coworker, whatever she could manage.”

Jinky smiled. It may have been the first time I’d ever seen her gums. They looked pink and healthy. She obviously had excellent dental hygiene. Another surprise.

“I guess the whole thing could have been worse,” Penny said. “Pinewood’s the one that got hammered. Besides the high school, I heard they lost their post office, a bank, a grocery store, not to mention the fatalities. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and a silence fell over us. No one had brought up the dead all day, as if it were a jar best left sealed.

“What’s the count now?” I asked, my voice small and tight.

“Five. All in Pinewood,” Penny said. “For the size of the storm, they’re saying that number could have been a lot higher. Just think if your dad hadn’t found those last couple of kids hiding in the gym . . .”

As much as I understood just what had been saved yesterday, I still swallowed something bitter and hard with every reminder of a death toll. It should have included me. I still felt uneasy — guilty, were I to put a name to it — about surviving when others hadn’t.

We divided into teams. Ofelia and I took care of the front of the store: sweeping up glass, tossing spoiled perishables from the freezer cases, and duct-taping a patchwork of flattened boxes over the hole in the front window. Penny and Jinky volunteered for back-room duty, where more sweeping up and sorting of salvageable merchandise was to be done. For his part, Afi moved between the two zones, shaking his head and carping about “damn Mother Nature” or was on the phone with the insurance agent, the window-repair company, and the power company.

Ofelia and I had been at it for a long time without word from the back when we heard a loud creaking sound and then a muffled thud; Jinky and Penny emerged looking as if they’d been blasted fifty years into the future. Their hair and skin were covered with a fine gray powder.

“What happened to you guys?” I asked.

Jinky shook her head, demonstrating the possible origins of the headbangers brand of dance style.

Penny, on the other hand, scratched at her head with both hands. “Uh, the ceiling kind of heaved and then buckled, sending a shower of dust down on us.” She grimaced. “You don’t think this stuff is asbestos or anything like that, do you?” She raked a hand deep into her scalp.

Afi, who had discharged of his phone call at the sight of them, said, “Shouldn’t be. The building’s old, but the roof is new. My guess is it’s gypsum from the drywall, but I suggest you run on home and take a good, long shower.” He lifted the phone back to his ear with a sigh. “I’ll call my roof guy to make sure, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Jinky, true to her nature, accepted the situation with a mere scowl and uttered something — in the Icelandic-expletive family, I’d guess — under her breath.

Penny had the more physical of their reactions. She scraped at her head like some flea-bitten pooch and rushed Jinky out of the store without time to hear the apologies and thank-yous that Afi, Ofelia, and I voiced in their wake.

Afi declared the back room off-limits. It immediately struck me that this would impact the Storks as well. Could they still meet here? Would they have anyway, now that I was out? And if not here, where? I felt a pang of hurt that I, quite possibly, would never know.

“I suppose we should call it a day,” Ofelia said. “We’ve done what we can up front here; the rest will depend on the insurance agent and an inspection. Besides, I for one am exhausted.” She took a seat on the stool behind the register. As she lifted a bottle of water to her lips, I noticed her hand, ever so briefly, touch her hairline. Anyone else would surely have thought she was tucking a stray wisp of hair into her trademark twist. But I knew better; I knew it was a call, the call, rather. I couldn’t help it; I stared at her.

When the phone rang and Afi answered it, I rounded on Ofelia. “Did you —”

Ofelia held up her hand to stop me, and I remembered my vow of silence. I pressed my lips closed, but my bulging eyes said it all.

She took off in a hurry, which left just me and Afi in the closed-until-further-notice store.

“Leira’s probably home by now. Should we head over and welcome her back?” I asked.

Afi looked rail thin, and his pale blue eyes blinked back from behind a crush of wrinkles. “It does seem a thing that should be celebrated. And we could all stand a little good news for a change.” His voice had that slurry quality, the one I’d recognized in Leira before her miraculous recovery.

When Afi flipped the lights off, shouldered the front door closed, and clicked the key in the lock, I was overcome with emotion. For the shop, I felt a small swell of nostalgia. On Afi’s behalf, I just wished there was something that would see those lungs of his through a bit of retirement.