He took her to school every morning and he was the one who brought her home so late or not at all, according to Patty. As for Mr. Quinn, Casey had seen him maybe half-a-dozen times in the four months she worked for him. At first, he was attentive and gentle with Val, but the last time he came, they argued. The kind of argument Casey had overheard many times.

Him saying, “You’re not trying. You don’t even want to get better and be with me.”

Her saying, “Why should I try? Is Dee still at the ranch? Is Sandy? Is that little cunt Ricki still at the ranch? I wish you’d left me there to die on the side of the road.”

“Well, you know what, baby? I wasn’t the one who called 911. Kellen did that.”

After that, Mr. Quinn kept paying Casey and Patty, but he didn’t come back. His brother, Sean, visited occasionally and that seemed to do Val more good than her husband’s visits. He got her talking, made her laugh.

On the last day of an assignment, Casey liked to “wrap things up” by offering last-minute advice and encouragement. With Val, it seemed like wasted effort. Instead of talking, they sat in front of the TV, as Casey’s time there ticked away. At six o’clock, she would go home for the weekend, and on Monday, she would start a new assignment.

Normally, Wavy went outside as soon as she heard Kellen’s motorcycle, but that evening she stayed in the rocking chair, smoothing her dress like she was nervous. The engine cut off and for several minutes, there was silence except for Val’s TV program. Then the sound of boots on the front porch.

Casey had never seen the front door used, but that night, Kellen even rang the bell. Wavy got up and opened the door for him. He came in, looking nervous, and frowned in confusion when Wavy handed the package to him. Casey scooted forward on her seat, curious despite the fact that she might never get to tell Patty about this.

“This is for me?” he said. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

The rocking chair groaned under his weight when he sat down. After he tore off the wrapping paper, he looked into the box with a blank look on his face. Then he lifted out what looked like a cast iron pot. No, a motorcycle helmet. He turned it over in his hand, forcing a smile.

“I really appreciate it, sweetheart, but you know I don’t ever wear a helmet.”

Frowning, Wavy slid her hand around the back of his neck and into his hair. Kellen nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. If I’d been wearing a helmet that day, I wouldn’t have gotten my head so banged up. Okay. Okay. You ready to go? You look really pretty, but it’s cold out there. Are you gonna be warm enough in that?”

Out of the closet she took a fleece-lined leather jacket and put it on over the sweater that matched her dress. Then the camera was remembered and the jackets came back off. Casey didn’t wait to be asked. She picked up the camera and posed Wavy and Kellen, side by side. Because of the size difference, the camera had to be turned on end to make them both fit in the frame. Neither of them smiled for the picture, as awkward as high school prom dates.

10

KELLEN

For the longest time, I’d been trying to give Wavy her poker winnings, but she kept saying no. When she finally asked for some money, it was to take me out for my birthday, to this really nice steak house in Garringer. I’d been there once before with Liam and some of his friends, but they were all tweaking and made too much noise for that place. It was quiet with nice carpet and leather booths and chandeliers.

I didn’t want the waiter looking down his nose at Wavy, so I got a haircut, and I wore a new pair of jeans without grease stains, with the one and only dress shirt I owned—the one I wore to my ma’s funeral. That was about as dressed up as I knew how to get. I wasn’t too sure about me, but Wavy looked like she belonged there. She went floating across the dining room after the hostess, that fancy dress swishing, and her neck all bare. We had a corner booth with candles on the table that made Wavy’s hair like a halo around her face.

“You’re so pretty,” I said after the hostess was gone. I’d already told Wavy that a buncha times, but she seemed to like it. And she was beautiful. I figured her dressing up was part of my birthday present, so I ought to let her know I appreciated it.

I ordered for both of us, which I’d been told was what a gentleman was supposed to do. Then I ordered a bourbon and coke, which was probably not a gentleman’s drink. After the salads came, the waiter left us alone.

“You know, this is the first time a girl ever took me on a date,” I said.

That made Wavy smile. She pressed her lips together and held her breath.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Thanks. Aren’t you glad I didn’t show up at your house drunk off my ass in the middle of the night this year?”

“I liked that birthday.” She exhaled too fast, ended up with not enough breath to get her to the end of the sentence, so the last part didn’t make any noise at all. When she reached across the table, I took her hand and turned it over so the ring picked up the candlelight and sparkled.

“So did I. I felt like such a jackass waking you up, but then you were so nice, like you were glad to see me.”

Wavy was maybe getting ready to say something else, but the waiter came back before she could. He looked at our hands together on the table, but I didn’t pull mine back. It wasn’t none of his business.

“Are you finished with your salads?”

I was. Wavy hadn’t touched hers, but the waiter took them both away when she nodded. After our dinners came, she pushed her plate off to the side to watch me eat. When the waiter came back with my third drink, he said, “Is there a problem? Is her entrée not to her liking?”