Avery Rhiannon's Arc

Chapter 4 of 17

They pushed through the big sliding door of the white barn. Warm air met them. A lantern glowed near the peak. In the corner sat a nook of hay bales and soft cushions, ready as if waiting. The dog limped straight to it and curled into the hay with a long sigh. The man pulled the door shut against the wind. He wiped rain from his face. "I'm Tom," he said. "That's Biscuit." Avery nodded and gave her own name. She glanced past him through the small window. Outside, near the slope, stood a bright wooden kennel with a tiled roof and little arched windows. "You built that?" she asked. He smiled. "For the strays. They come and go." Something in her chest loosened. She opened her mouth to ask the question she had carried past his tree line three times. Then Biscuit's nose knocked her bag sideways. Treats scattered. Her notebook slid out and fell open on the boards. Tom bent before she could move. He lifted the notebook gently. His eyes passed over the open page, the long column of names in her careful hand. He held it out to her with both hands. "Avery," he said, quiet. "What are all these names?" She took the notebook. Her thumb pressed the worn cover. She did not look away. "Every animal I couldn't save," she said. "I keep them so they're not forgotten." She drew a breath. "Tom. Is this your land? All forty acres?" He looked at her a long moment. Then he nodded. "It is. Why do you ask?"