“Please. He probably came to class without his wedding ring on.” She stretched her neck to peck her husband on the cheek while Allen studied Jansi.
“And I don’t believe I know your friend,” he said.
Jansi extended her hand to him. “Hi. Jansi. I’m sure— What was it, Erica? I’m sure Erica mentioned me before.” Shane’s stomach was a coiled rattlesnake, and she could see the wave of horror pass over Allen’s face. Jansi was beaming a wide and playful mouth of crooked teeth, like this was all a joke. Even Quinn looked shocked by the brazen “Erica” comment. Emmy, however, appeared not to notice.
“I’m so sorry, I have this garbage too loud. Sony!” she hollered. “Lower volume to five!” The MSNBC pundits’ voices dwindled and the debate about the newly inaugurated administration’s first bill fell to a whisper.
She led them to the kitchen table, and as Shane passed through the spacious living room, shelves loaded down with books until the wood sagged, the couches and blankets filthy with dog hair, her eye landed on the picture facing out from an end table. The whole family. Allen, squinting a smile with his hands on the shoulders of a mischievous little boy, Emmy holding on to a teenage girl whose braces looked painful both physically and reputationally. Two more boys and another girl. She could almost remember the names. Jake, Anna, Zack, Perry, and… the name of the younger girl escaped her. They sat at the kitchen table, and Emmy fretted that if she’d had some advance warning she would’ve cooked more, and maybe she could order a pizza—if she did so now, it would be on the table in no more than forty-five minutes.
“Not necessary,” said Jansi. “We already ate.”
“Well, now how far are you girls driving?” asked Emmy.
“I told you, Em, they’re heading to Maryland.”
“And y’all live in Tallahassee? Isn’t this outta your ways a bit?”
Trying to concoct this cover story on the fly had not been the best approach. Only now did Shane wonder why Allen had told Quinn he was alone. She watched him beside her at the table, and his parched eyes darted to her, communicating something she couldn’t decipher, and then gazed back over at his wife.
“I just haven’t seen Professor Ford in a few years,” said Shane. “I figured it wasn’t that far.”
ALLEN Tried to catch Shane’s eye. He could see Quinn doing something this reckless, just showing up at his house without warning to prove a point. He wondered how careful they’d been. Although it wouldn’t matter to him soon, they risked dragging Emmy into this. He wanted to pull Shane aside as soon as possible. He knew this could not have been her idea.
Emmy seemed satisfied with this and reached into the oven with two mitts to pull out a vegan pot roast, which she placed on the table and explained that this recipe was about a century old, passed down from a great-grandmother, upgraded with synthesized plant protein, and they all had to have at least a taste. “Should we go get our sick one?” Emmy asked about the dog.
“Nah, let him rest. He’ll smell it and come down,” said Allen.
“Girls, Allen, take off your hats,” said Emmy. “You’re at a dinner table. Relax and stay a minute.”
They did as told. Jansi and Quinn kept exchanging furtive glances, trying to communicate with only their eyes. Emmy went on talking about a coyote that was harassing their chickens, and Shane wished she could be alone with Allen to talk. Finally, Jansi cleared her throat.
EMMY Tried to signal her husband with a quick, flirty look, Which one of them is it? Surely it couldn’t be all three! But she knew Allen well enough after forty years to see when he was tense. He was a ball of tension now. She sent him a quick text under the table telling him to relax but the stupid thing didn’t go through. Most of that forty years they’d been open, but typically the old horndog went for men during his extracurriculars. She figured that was half the reason he started his little woodworking business. He was staring at the quiet Latina. She was chunky and past pretty, but Emmy could see it from days gone by. She began to try another text, If you and señorita want some alone time…. But something about his face stopped her, and she deleted it.
“Mrs. Ford, I was wondering…”
“Honey, please. Emmy.”
“Emmy, I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a quick tour of the farm. Before dinner.”
Emmy licked pot roast broth off her fingers. “Now? No, it’s dark. We’re about to eat.”
Jansi put a hand on Emmy’s arm. “You know, the roast has to cool, so we have a minute. Why don’t we give these three a chance to catch up, and you show me the chickens real quick? I’m from a farming family myself, so maybe I could even give you a bit of advice on the coyote.”
This sounded absurd to Shane, and, from the looks of it, Emmy. Jansi looked like she’d be more at home in a lit class at Sarah Lawrence than a farm.
“Like are you using chicken wire on your coop?” Jansi continued. “Even raccoons can get through that. You need wire mesh.”
Emmy’s southern hospitality slipped a bit. “Of course we use wire mesh.”
“Hon, yeah, why not?” Allen said suddenly. “Go give her a quick look—they drove all this way. I’m sure these two have stories from all their, their, their…” Shane didn’t think he’d be able to finish whatever unwieldy lie he was concocting on the spot. “Their travels.”
Clearly Emmy Ford knew something else was going on here. And yet she went with it. Sometimes the urge to remain polite trumped all else.
“Sure, why not,” said Emmy. “A quick tour of the chickens, then we eat. Okay?”
“Sounds good,” said Jansi, standing and zipping her hoodie. “Let’s get a look at these suckers.”
Shane, Quinn, and Allen waited while Emmy threw on a light jacket, grabbed a flashlight, and she and Jansi went through the sliding glass door in the back, Emmy warning, “The dog was shitting everywhere in the yard before we took him in, so watch your step.”
Jansi slid the door shut behind her, and the motion sensor light outside illuminated the two women walking into the gloom. When they were far enough away, Allen said, “Emmy’s wonderful. This year is number thirty-eight together, you know that? Two more till our ruby year.”
NEW ORLEANS When Allen met this young lady—not yet “Shane”—she’d been more than a good chat. As a teacher, you learn who the sharp ones are very quickly. It hadn’t hurt that she was pretty, of course, but this was not a concern. She was also extremely guarded, never said much about her people, though she alluded that she was from the Gulf. Allen had liked her right way and grew to trust her instincts implicitly. Even when she steered wrong, as she had in Wisconsin, he had nothing but faith in her.
“What were you thinking, Allen?” Quinn held the napkin ring. She’d placed the cloth on her lap, and now she slipped the metal band over the knuckle of an index finger. “You send us that message, and what do you want us to do?”
“Well,” he said, calmly. “I didn’t expect you to show up at my front door unannounced, I’ll say that.”
“You didn’t leave us much choice.”
“You should’ve contacted me first. Via the code. You’ve put everything in danger by coming here.”
“No,” said Quinn, slapping the napkin ring down on the table. “Goddamnit, we’re not putting anything in danger. You are. You are, Allen.”
Allen’s communiqué had arrived in her mailbox the evening before, and Shane had sat in her car outside the fishing cabin in Tonganoxie decoding it. Stunned, she rushed home to contact Quinn through their VR dead drop and was nearly an hour late picking up Lali from daycare.
“It’s like I said, we were sloppy, and two men are dead because of it,” said Allen. Shane stared at the lacquered surface and all the dark knots in the amber grain. Surely Allen had built this himself. “Both men were fathers and husbands. When we started this, I did so with the understanding—and the promise to myself—that we would never hurt anyone. Not a single human life would be lost as a result of our actions. And for a long time, we were successful.”