Caroline powering down the glass then, revealing him clearly in the frame of the window—bony, leathery old face with a gray stubble and a rim of creamy dentures showing and deep, watery blue eyes behind the lenses—We’re fine, sir, thank you so much, Caroline saying, and the old man cocking a large ear at her so that they both see the pink bit of plastic fitted into the inner whorl and Caroline saying again louder, and with such happiness in her voice, Thank you, sir, thank you so much for stopping!
It would take a while, the old man being old and the girls not knowing how to help, but he would have a tow rope in the back of his truck, and the good old truck would have four-wheel drive, as does the RAV4, and soon enough they’d be back on the road and he would tell them in his gruff old way—a father himself, you could hear in his voice, a grandfather, maybe great-grandfather—to drive more slowly in this weather, that the bridge would be icy too, and when they’d try to pay him he would not even look at the money but would wave them off and climb back into his truck, and he would follow them across the bridge and for a few miles beyond, until at last they’d see his turn signal, see the headlights swerving off into some dark Iowa woods… and only miles later, both of them thinking what might have been had he not come along—not allowing themselves to think what might have been had he been those boys—would they realize they’d never asked his name, nor he theirs. In his memory they would be the two girls he pulled out of the snow by the bridge that time, and in theirs he would be the old man, the kind old feller, who pulled them out of the snow that one winter they drove to Minnesota—who did not bump them, sending them down the riverbank, but instead had saved them—and that’s how it would be until the end of their lives.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s one thing to write a story—to bang out a kind of beginning, middle and ending—it’s quite another to bring a finished, cohesive, ready-to-read novel to readers, and for that I have two superb professional families to thank: At Writers House I thank Amy Berkower, agent, guardian angel and voice of clarity every step of the way, and Genevieve Gagne-Hawes—too essential to call an early editor, more like my secret weapon. My everlasting thanks also to Maja Nikolic and Kathryn Stuart, and all the outstanding staff on every floor of that house.
At Algonquin Books and Workman Publishing Co.—simply the greatest publisher any author could hope for—I thank Elisabeth Scharlatt, Elizabeth Johnson, Betsy Gleick, Brunson Hoole, Michael McKenzie, Anne Winslow, Pete Garceau, Craig Popelars, Lauren Moseley, Debra Linn, Frazer Dobson and everyone else who has worked so hard on behalf of my books and made such a difference in the course of my life—none more so than Chuck Adams, my editor through two novels now and, if my luck holds out, my editor for the next two, and the next two after that.
My thanks to Robert L. Giron and Gival Press, who once upon a time honored a short story called “Water” and gave its author a friendly shove into deeper waters. Also, the University of Memphis, my superb colleagues in the English department there, and all my students everywhere, who have given me so much more than I’ve given them.
Closer to home: Tyler Johnston, whose influence extended far beyond legal expertise and into essential matters of storytelling; and Chris Kelley, who put his keen eye to earliest details and design, and all for the better. For all manner of friendship and inspiration and belief and support, I thank Mark Wisniewski, PD Mallamo, Randy Larson, Don Foster, Erin Quigley, Mark Carroll and Carmela Rappazzo. And of course Carolyn Blais, whose natural gifts of love and laughter made this book, and its author, better.
Finally, to the person holding this book, whoever you are: Thank you for being a reader of books and for reading this one in particular. You make it all matter.
Also by Tim Johnston
Never So Green
Irish Girl
Descent
About the Author
TIM JOHNSTON is the author of the debut adult novel Descent, the story collection Irish Girl, and the young adult novel Never So Green. Published in 2009, the stories in Irish Girl won an O. Henry Prize, the New Letters Award for Writers, and the Gival Press Short Story Award, while the collection itself won the 2009 Katherine Anne Porter Prize in Short Fiction. In 2005 the title story, “Irish Girl,” was included in the David Sedaris anthology of favorites Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules. Johnston’s stories have also appeared in New England Review, New Letters, the Iowa Review, the Missouri Review, DoubleTake, Best Life Magazine, and Narrative Magazine, among others. He holds degrees from the University of Iowa and the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. He currently teaches in the creative writing program at the University of Memphis.
Copyright
Published by
Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
225 Varick Street
New York, New York 10014
© 2019 by Tim Johnston.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018020534
eISBN: 978-1-61620-889-9