Chapter 32: The Barn

On the first Saturday of October, the new barn smelled of cedar, hay and a hundred small candles in jars.

The big doors were rolled all the way back, and the sun came in across the red runner.

Bales ran down both sides in tidy rows, and the guests sat on them in their good boots.

I saw the foreman's wife in a blue hat.

I saw Odette with a handful of tissues and her lipstick already smudged.

I saw the sheriff with the gray mustache, who had been invited and had not been able to say no.

At the far end, under the loft, Conal stood in a vest I had cut myself.

He wore no hat, and his hands hung at his sides.

The foreman stood next to him in a suit that did not fit.

He had been the only witness in the courthouse in Laramie, and he had asked to be one again.

I waited at the doors with the brace under my skirt and no cane.

Nobody had to give me away.

I had told them that.

"You'll walk me," I said to the girls instead.

Maisie wore green, and Bea wore blue, and Odette had sewn pockets into both of their dresses.

Maisie had filled hers with oats for the horses.

Bea had filled hers with pencils.

"Ready?" I asked.

"I was born ready," Maisie said.

"I'm a little scared," said Bea.

"Me too," I said. "Hold my hand."

I took one small hand in each of mine.

We stepped onto the runner together.

I could feel every plank of the floor through my shoes, and I knew each step before I took it.

The guests stood up.

I did not look at them.

I looked at the man at the end of the aisle, who had stopped breathing again.

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