The Overnight Guest(19)

The remainder of their escape was easy—through the kitchen, into the mudroom and out the back door. The Doyles never bothered to lock their doors. Why would they? They knew their neighbors, were miles from town, and had nothing of real value to steal.

The wind had died down, and while still hot, the air smelled sweetly of clover. The sky was brightly lit by the moon and from stars set deep into the black sky.

“What are we doing?” Becky whispered as Josie led her to the trampoline and together they scrambled up. They held hands, the ones they scored with a paring knife when they were ten so they could be blood sisters, and began to bounce.

“Sisters forever,” Josie called out as they jumped higher and higher until the rest of the world fell away. The air was humid and velvety against their skin. Sweat slid down their temples and into their eyes, but still they jumped, the rhythmic thump, thump of their feet hitting the rubber of the trampoline filled their ears like a heartbeat.

“I can almost grab them,” Becky cried, lifting her free hand toward the sky.

Josie pressed her lips together to keep her laughter inside, but she’d never felt so free as she did in that moment, soaring into the air, the fingers of her left hand interlocked with her best friend’s, the fingers of her right hand extended to the sky. The stars felt so close. Like a pile of jacks to be scooped up in her palm. A fistful of stars. In that moment, such a thing didn’t seem impossible.

Josie and Becky leaped and snatched at the sky until their breath came in hitches and they could no longer keep the laughter tucked inside. They collapsed to the floor of the trampoline and lay on their backs sweaty and out of breath until the world stopped swaying. “How many did you get?” Josie asked, glancing at Becky’s left hand still clasped tightly shut.

She brought her fist to her eye as if peeking inside. “A million,” she whispered. “How about you?”

“A million and one,” Josie said because she always had to win. It was as if they were little again when nothing mattered except for that very moment when being with your best friend was enough. There were no worries about boys and family arguments and growing up. Josie smiled and let the easiness of it all flow over her.

A popping sound interrupted their stargazing and Becky sat up on one elbow. “What’s that?” Becky asked.

“I’m not sure,” Josie said uneasily. They scanned the farmyard. Everything was still. The goats were snug within the confines of the barn, the hens perched inside their coop.

“Probably just a truck backfiring.” Josie brushed away her concern and lay back down.

Another pop rang out and this time, Josie recognized it. Living out in the country, living with hunters, Josie knew the sound intimately. Gunfire.

This was the only thing that made sense to Josie, so instead of running away from the noise, she was drawn toward it. She crawled over the side of the trampoline and dropped to the earth below. “What’s going on?” Becky asked, following close behind. A cloud eased in front of the moon and the light curdled behind it leaving the girls in darkness.

“Maybe someone is shooting at a fox or coyote,” Josie said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew that wasn’t likely. An uneasiness settled into her chest. Her dad wouldn’t shoot blindly into the dark like that. Besides, the blast sounded a little muffled, too far away. Maybe it was the neighbor a mile down the road. Sound carried out in the country.

“Let’s go back inside,” Josie said. The carefree feeling of earlier was gone, and the girls moved toward the house, hobbling over the rocky earth on their bare feet. From the barn, the noise had woken the goats. They bleated anxiously. Josie could hear their restless pacing in the barn.

A third blast came just as they rounded the barn. A brief flare of light filled her parents’ window like the flash of a camera. Then silence. Next to Josie, Becky cried out.

Josie thought of her brother and his anger and the sly, mean way he looked at their father earlier, the way he refused to hand over his shotgun. No, Josie told herself. Ethan would never do this.

Three more explosions came from within the house—one after the other. Becky covered her ears with her hands and screamed. Josie grabbed Becky’s hand and led her to the barn door. Josie tried to open the door but it was too heavy and worn from age. The bottom edge dragged slowly against the ground and got caught. She lifted the handle and yanked harder and the door squeaked open a fraction before getting stuck again. “Hurry!” Becky scrabbled at Josie’s arm.

There were dozens of hiding places in the barn: the hayloft, the goat stalls, behind a pile of lumber. Josie wedged through the door and was plunged into darkness and immediately understood she made a mistake. The goats, startled by her entrance, began to stir with an alarming cascade of bleats. Within the splintered walls of the barn they would have nowhere to go. They would be trapped. Josie quickly squirmed back out. “We can’t hide in here,” Josie whispered.

Josie looked around frantically. They needed a phone, but Josie was too afraid to go into the house. Her grandparents were a mile away. The cornfield. They could move through the cornfield and it would eventually lead to her grandparents’ house. They would know what to do. In the shadows, the stalks of corn stood tall, like gangly sentries.

Did they dare? One of Josie’s earliest memories was of her mother scolding her not to go into the fields alone. “You’ll get lost in there and we’ll never, ever find you,” she warned. For a long time, her mother’s warnings worked, but as time passed, the more daring Josie became, and venturing into the corn was a common occurrence.