The rain stops after all in time for them to have a hot supper, consisting of some of the food the chopper dropped off an hour before. Hot soup. Bacon and cheese sandwiches on fresh bread, mm. Apples. Bananas. Even Ding Dongs. Kaylee got the fire going herself, though not with one match. More like fifteen. “How long do you think it’ll take to get your new house built?” she asks now, licking Ding Dong off her lips. She feeds each dog a piece of banana.
Jane is staring into Kaylee’s fire. She looks up. “Hm?”
“To replace this one,” Kaylee says. “How long?”
“Oh—” Jane sighs heavily. “I don’t think … it doesn’t make much sense, does it? Everybody says I’m nuts anyway, living out here alone in the middle of nowhere. I’m almost seventy, Kaylee. I’d been hoping to hang on a while longer, but maybe the tornado just forced a decision I’ve been putting off.”
Kaylee sits up straight on the log. Her heart starts pounding. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a retirement community in Indiana I’ve been looking at. Maybe it’s time.”
Stricken, Kaylee says, “But—you have to build a new house
Jane smiles. “The birds got along without me before I came. They’ll be okay. I gave them a nice boost for a while, that’s worth something; and as for the hatchlings, they have you to thank more than me.”
Abruptly Kaylee bursts into tears, startling herself and making Jane jump. “What about
“Mercy,” Jane says mildly after a minute. “I apologize, Kaylee. I had no idea you felt like that.”
“Well, I do,” she says, sniffling.
“Well, in that case, I guess I might have to think again. No promises, mind, but I won’t decide anything just yet.” She smiles. “You came at me out of left field with that one.”
Kaylee wipes her sleeve across her eyes and smiles back shakily. “We’ll get you a cell phone. Then if something happens, you won’t be out here alone in the middle of nowhere ’cause you can call
Mercies
GREGORY BENFORD