Scarlett Hopper's Arc

Chapter 26 of 33

At first light Scarlett walked out with the seed jar and stopped short. The sky over the ridge had gone the color of wet slate. The crows were quiet on the wall. She tipped the cistern lid back and looked down. The water sat low, a shallow gray ring at the bottom. Two days of watering, maybe less. The new row would wilt before the clouds broke. Marcus came out behind her with the cat on his shoulder. He looked at the sky, then at the cistern. "Rain," he said. "Not soon enough. The new seeds crust by tonight." "Then we catch more than the cistern can hold." He set his tool bag down on the step. "Every barrel, every bucket. Sheet the shed roof into a trough. I can run a line to the back beds too." She flexed her bad hand. The fingers moved. The grip did not close. "I can't lift with this." "You point. I'll lift." John came out of the house pulling his coat on. Maranda followed with her sandals in her hand. "The cistern won't hold us," Scarlett said. "We need a fresh source too. A spring, a tank, anything standing. If this storm skips us, we lose the row." "I'll go," John said. "Duke knows the low ground east of the pier." "I go with him," Maranda said. She was already tying her hair back. "Two sets of eyes." Scarlett nodded once. "Before the ash wind. Both of you back by dark." John took the rolling cooler for hauling and a pair of masks. Maranda tucked a bone charm into her pocket. The dog trotted between them to the gate. Marcus was already on the shed roof. He pried up the old flashing and bent a length of gutter down into a barrel. Scarlett walked the yard and pointed. Here. There. The rain barrel by the corner. The wash tub. He worked fast and quiet, the cat watching from a fence post. She watched his hands on the metal. Steady. Careful. He had framed her rooms in a night without sleeping. He had carried her back from the split rock when her legs quit. She caught herself counting the ways he stayed and stopped counting. He looked down and caught her looking. "What." "Nothing." "Hand me the shears." She passed them up left-handed. Their fingers touched on the handle. He did not pull his away first. She did. By noon he had six catches rigged and a trough running off the shed into a second barrel. The first drops came at three. By four it was a hard steady rain and every vessel was filling. John and Maranda came back at dusk soaked through. "Standing tank," John said. "Half a mile past the pier road. Sealed. Clean under the filter." Scarlett set the brass watering can under the trough and watched it fill. The new row would drink for weeks. The wilt would not come. She looked at Marcus across the yard. He was still on the roof in the rain.