“Do you think that’s something you can control?”

“I think it’s something you can avoid with a little bit of thought.” Flann raked a hand through her thick sandy hair. “Jesus, Harper. Didn’t we talk about this? You had to know it was a bad idea.”

A bad idea. Presley had said something very much the same. Harper’s temper frayed. “You can’t really be naïve enough to think you can dictate something like that.”

“Of course you can! Keep things light. Keep things casual. Don’t give yourself away.” Flann swept her arm to take in the room nestled in the high branches. “Jesus, you brought her up to the tree house already.”

Harper looked around the space. It was only a tree house, not exactly a confessional. But then she wondered what it said about her and had to admit it said everything. She’d made it with her own hands, building on the rudimentary structure she and Flann had knocked up as preteens. She’d filled it with things that mattered to her and came back to it when she was troubled or lonely or weary. She brought Presley here because she didn’t know a better way to show her the parts of herself that mattered the most. “I had to.”

“Why?” Flann asked, looking honestly puzzled.

“Because she got to me and no one else ever has.”

Flann made an exasperated sound. “Maybe you wanted her to or just think she did. Maybe it’s not Presley at all, but just what you want her to be. There are plenty of other women who could give you what you want.”

Harper rested her head against the back of the sofa and studied Flann. “Do you really believe that? That one woman would do just as well as another?”

“Why not? Sure, it’s nice to have a similar outlook on the big things, but I could name a dozen women who would love to have your babies.”

Harper couldn’t help but laugh, but the laughter left an ache in her throat. “You think that’s all it’s about? Having someone in bed at night, someone to have your kids, or raise your kids? What about in here…” She closed her fist over her heart, and as she expected, Flann made a face.

“You’re a romantic, Harper. You read too many books as a kid. Most of the time what you see is what you get. Be grateful when you find a woman who won’t ask more than that. And for God’s sake, don’t choose someone who’s already a sure bet to break your heart.”

“Is that what you want? To just make do?”

“Don’t make this about me. It’s not about me.”

“Maybe not, but I still want to know.”

Flann looked away, a sure sign she was going to avoid the whole truth. She wouldn’t lie, but she would keep her secrets. “I’d be happy with a woman who was into good sex and occasional company and wouldn’t want me to be someone I’m not.”

“Like a friend with benefits?”

Flann lifted a shoulder, still staring out the tree house window toward the river. “I suppose that’s a good enough name for it. Just so I don’t have to constantly be worried about someone wanting more.”

“It’s the wanting more that makes it special.”

Flann glared at her. “What exactly happened this morning?”

“Presley reminded me that sex was just sex, sort of like what you’ve been saying. She probably should’ve gone to bed with you and not me.”

Flann barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, right, then you and I would’ve been pistols at dawn. Why can’t you just be happy you got her into bed?”

“It’s not enough, and you’d know it, if you weren’t too afraid—”

Flann jumped up and paced to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance between herself and Harper as possible. She kept her back to Harper as she looked out the window. “I’m not afraid.”

“Fuck, you’re not. I just don’t know why. Look at Mama and Dad—”

“Yeah, look at them.” Flann swung around. “Sure, they’ve got a great relationship. How many women do you think there are like Mama? Willing to raise a family practically by herself while Dad does what he wants.”

“Not just for himself,” Harper said. “You think he’s sacrificed all these years taking care of other people just for himself?”

“What has he given up? He’s got a home, a woman who waits for him, kids who are crazy about him, while he’s out taking care of other people who think he’s God. Tell me, what’s he given up?”

Harper sprang to her feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what you think? That it’s all been easy for him?”

“You can’t see it because you’re just like him. Maybe you should look for a woman just like Mama—and good luck with that.”

“Where is this coming from?” Harper said quietly.

Flann’s fury seemed to abate as quickly as it had come and she sank back against the rough-hewn plank wall. She pushed her hands into the pocket of her jeans and stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been mad at him for a while.”

“For a while? Like ten years or something? Why?”

Flann raised her head. “He wasn’t here when Katie died.”

“He didn’t know she was going to go so quickly. It was septic shock. You know that.”

“He wasn’t here then. He wasn’t at the hospital the night Davey was born. He wasn’t here for more things than I can count.”

“And you think that didn’t hurt him? Come on, Flann. What is it you’re really afraid of?”

“That I’ll be just like him,” Flann said flatly. “And I won’t be able to be there when it matters.”

“So you’ve decided you just won’t try.”

“I’ve decided that I want a different life.”

“You’ll change your mind when you meet her.”

Flann’s eyes darkened. “There is no her.”

“You can believe that all you want, but you’re wrong.”

“Well, if you’re any example, I prefer to be wrong for the rest of my life.”

“It’s worth it.”

“What is?”

“The pain—the amazing sense of being filled with everything that’s right is worth the pain. What I felt with her—”

“Oh come on. Give me a break. Get your head out of the clouds. You had a great roll in the hay. All that says is she’s good in bed, and all that means is she’s had enough practice—”

Harper tackled her around the waist, and they went down in a pile of arms and legs. The tree shook and leaves fell like rain as they rolled and tumbled and fought to be on top.

Flann was quick and wiry and they’d had a lot of practice wrestling as kids. It took Flann five minutes to flip Harper onto her back and straddle her middle, but eventually she pinned Harper’s arms to the floor.

Harper was panting and sweating, but so was Flann. Flann’s face was inches above hers.

“Say it,” Flann said.

“No.”

“Say it.” Flann bounced on Harper’s middle until Harper thought she was going to puke. “Say it.”

“Uncle,” Harper gasped.

“I can’t believe you went for me like that.”

“Get off,” Harper grunted.

Flannery bounced one more time. “Man, she has got you by the gonads.”

Harper grinned, but the sadness still filled her. “Yeah, I guess I’m well and truly fucked.”

Flann sat back on her haunches, taking her weight off Harper’s torso so she could breathe again. “I’m sorry.”

“For which part?” Harper sucked in air. She needed to run more.

“I’m sorry things with Presley didn’t work out. I’m sorry for talking bullshit about Dad. I’m not sorry for whipping your ass.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” Harper said. “You’ll be there when it matters, Flann. You always are.”

*

Presley grabbed the items she’d bought the day before out of Harper’s truck, drove home as fast as she dared, and went directly to her room to take off Harper’s clothes. The intimacy of Harper’s touch, even imagined, was too sharp when what she needed was distance. She folded them carefully and set them on the dresser. She’d have to find a delicate way of returning them, but that quandary could wait. After pulling on a pair of capri workout pants, a lightweight V-neck tee, and running shoes, she went downstairs to sweat out some of her self-recrimination. She actually loathed running, so the activity would serve a dual purpose—with every aching step she’d be reminded of the cost of impetuosity and would wear off the lingering pulse of desire that still beat deep inside. As she passed through the foyer to the front door, Carrie called out a good morning from the living room.

Presley stopped and poked her head through the doorway. Carrie looked cheery and relaxed curled up in the corner of the couch in threadbare red plaid pj pants and a pale blue Henley, her laptop open and balanced on her knees. Presley mustered up a smile. “Hi. How was your night?”

“All things considered, amazingly good. The absence of noise—well, at least the noise I’m used to—still weirds me out a little bit. But now I’m starting to hear other things—croaking and chirping and some sort of groaning that I think might be cows.”

“Hopefully it’s cows. I don’t want to think about it being anything else.” Presley couldn’t help but laugh. “I know what you mean about the sounds, though, and not just the noises. It’s like a different version of everything we know here. Sometimes I feel like I’ve tumbled into an alternate universe.”

“Or just a very old version of our own.” Carrie stretched her bare feet out onto the big steamer trunk repurposed as a coffee table. Her toenails, Presley noted absently, were bright pink. “I kind of like it. That old-time feeling.”

“Yes, I suppose it has its charms.” Presley could easily see Harper in a horse and buggy, her big leather satchel by her feet, a horsehair blanket over her lap, riding through a cold fall morning on her way to a call, the trees a sunburst of colors surrounding her, the crystal-blue sky icing gray at the edges with the promise of winter to come. She could see, too, Harper returning after a long night of tending to families spread far and wide over the countryside, stomping her boots on the porch, getting rid of the snow before she trudged inside to where a fire burned in the hearth. To where Presley waited, curled up in a chair with a book. Presley shook her head, dispelling the whimsical hallucination. “Something about this place does things to you. Dangerous things. I wouldn’t get too used to it.”