He stood up then and placed the pillow back at the head of the bed. He smoothed the covers that had rumpled under his weight and walked out past Sofia in the doorway. The house was silent except for the soft touch of feet from a cat that moved like spilled ink toward the shade beneath the dining room table.
Opening the screen door, he walked down the three stones and stepped into his garden. It was June, and the burning was already two months along. The sun blazed like the tip of a match pointed down. He gripped the metal arm of the pump tightly despite the hot pain and drove it down and rode it up until his bucket was full. Then he walked the length of his beds with the bucket tipped, the water pouring out in a more or less steady stream, thick like from a spout instead of a cloud. For twenty years, he’d refused the watering can Sofia had placed in the corner of the garden because it made him feel womanish.
When the watering was almost complete, he looked up and saw the dust rising off a galloping car’s hood through the glare of heat. He put the bucket down and waited for the car to arrive.
The man who stepped out resembled the cattle that generations of his family had raised and slaughtered. His middle pushed out, his cheeks slack and browned. He moved slowly to the garden.
“How’s your parsley, Edward?” “You want a mouthful?”
The man placed a foot on the low beam of the garden fence and looked off toward the east. “Nah. I don’t want a mouthful.”
“Why are you here, Joe?”
The man returned his eyes to Edward. “How’s Sofia?”
“Sofia’s fine. What do you need?”
“They’re gonna take you in, Edward. I did what I could, but I couldn’t stop it. They’re gonna come out here and take you in.”
Edward looked into the soil he’d finished sogging. “When?”
“This evening. Just as soon as the sheriff gets back.”
“They’re waiting on the sheriff ?”
Joe huffed.
“All right,” said Edward and then turned toward the house. “I appreciate the warning.”
“That doctor deserved everything he got,” Joe said.
“You sound so sure.”
“You’re not?”
“Who could be sure of something like that?” Edward said, and then walked up the stones and onto the porch.
“The family, though.” Joe looked up at Edward from below. “That’s monstrous. If you did it, it’s monstrous.”
“Well, I didn’t do nothing.”
Joe nodded and chewed, though he didn’t seem to have anything in his mouth. Edward opened the screen door and stepped into the house.
“You’ll be alright,” Joe called after him, and waited there until the screen door had slapped shut and its sounds had vanished.
* * *
Edward packed while Sofia watched. “You don’t have to do this,” she told him.
He didn’t answer. “Where are you going?”
He stepped past her, drew his three watches from the top of the bureau and returned to the bag on the bed. He placed the watches on top and zipped it closed. Before walking down the steps, he stepped into the boy’s room and gazed around. He put his bag down and walked toward the bed. He took the pillow in his hand and lifted it to his nose.
“I’m going to take this.”
“You’ll come back?”
Edward didn’t respond. He unzipped his bag and placed the boy’s pillow next to his watches.
“You should go now. You know where.”
“Is it happening?” Her voice trembled. “They’re coming?”
“They are.”
She nodded, her nose and eyes damp. She began to heave then, but had to comfort herself with her own arms wrapped around her shoulders.
He walked past her. “You have five minutes.”
In the garage, he pulled the sheets off the truck, which shone in the slivers of sun that sliced through the windows. It was a truck he’d built from parts, still unplated. He placed his bag in the passenger seat and reached under it. There he found the canteen and the plates he’d stolen years earlier and for which he’d fashioned new registration stickers. He left the plates and canteen under the seat and closed the door. In the back of the garage, he pulled a can from a dust-filled shelf. Above him, a family of birds cooed from their nest in the rafters. He walked out and dripped the gasoline around the perimeter of the house. Then he pulled the screen door open and soaked the floors and appliances, the rugs and furnishings. When he was done, he did the same around the detached garage. He placed the can back on the shelf and pulled the truck out onto the dirt drive. There, he rested his elbow on the edge of his open window and gazed at the house. A minute later, Sofia stepped out the front screen door. Her eyes bore into his, and neither he nor she blinked. After a moment, he opened the truck’s door and walked toward her.
“Where’s your bag?”
“I don’t need a bag.”
“Sofia.”
“Edward.”
“You’re not an old woman. You’ll have a life after this.”
“There’s no world left for me,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m not like you.”
He looked past her and into the house.
“I knew what you were doing that night,” she said. “I knew before you left. I knew while it was happening.”
“It’s no sin to be ashamed of it. But there’s no need for this.You did nothing. These were my offenses.”
“They were ours.”
He looked down and toed the dirt with his boot. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“I am.”
“I loved you,” he said. “Every day.”
She breathed in through her nose and closed her eyes.
He nodded and turned to look at the stack of boulders at the horizon. “This is yours, Sofia,” he said.
“This is mine,” she said, and returned slowly into the house.
He watched her walk up the stairs and then stepped back, pulling his lighter from his pocket. He began the lighting and then did the same around the garage. He returned to the truck. As he drove off, he watched the blaze in his rearview. The whole of his life was fuel-soaked timber.