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“It’s certainly peaceful,” Annie said. “But don’t you feel isolated? Cut off from the world? All that empty space makes me nervous. Aren’t there wolves on the prairie?”

“Yes, and venomous snakes and spiders, so be careful when you need to use the outhouse.” Now it was Emily’s turn to tease and taunt.

“I love it here, Annie. It was the city where I felt uncomfortable and hemmed in. Here, I can breathe. There’s something about all this space that forces you to look inward, to figure out who you really are. ”

“Well, that sounds truly awful.” Annie flicked a fly away from her face. “You still think you made the right decision? No regrets? No secret longing to come back to Chicago with me?”

Emily smiled. “No regrets. We’re happy here. Very happy.”

Annie turned to her. “But is it enough, Em? Really? Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

Emily laughed lightly. “Of course! It’s wonderful!”

They sat in silence for a while, the rhythmic creak of the seat like a clock pendulum ticking time away, like sand slipping through Annie’s hourglass.

“Are you going to show me those photographs of Dorothy, then?” Emily said eventually.

“Oh yes! Let me grab them.”

Emily took a deep breath as Annie stepped inside to fetch the photographs. She would say all the right things. Avoid any awkwardness.

“Here we are.” Annie took her seat beside Emily. “I’m sure there are far too many. Tell me when you get bored.”

She had a small album of photographs, each picture carefully dated and annotated. Dorothy at the park. First trip to the lake. Dorothy and Mommy. Family day out. Dorothy sleeping. Favorite teddy/Lion. Emily was touched to see that Dorothy still had the toy lion she’d left for her.

Emily became lost in the images, absorbed by the sweet little girl who she hardly knew at all, and yet knew instantly. She was glad to still feel the pull of affection. If anything, it had grown even stronger in the months since she’d last seen her.

“How is motherhood?” she asked as they reached the end of the album.

“Exhausting! It’s messy, and worrying—and completely wonderful!”

“You must be missing her.”

“I missed her the moment I got in the taxicab to take me to the train station. She has my heart absolutely wrapped around her tiny little fingers. I honestly can’t remember what I ever did before she was born, or before I was a mother.

It’s the most amazing thing, the bond you feel for this tiny helpless little thing…

” She trailed off as she reached for Emily’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to go on. I forget, sometimes, what happened. ”

“Lucky you. I think about it all the time.”

Annie reached for her hand. “How did Henry take it?”

Emily stalled, suddenly wary of confiding in her sister.

“Em? You did tell him, didn’t you?”

Emily stared at a beetle on the ground. “I couldn’t.”

“Why ever not?”

“I didn’t want to bring such sadness to our new start here. And then time passed, and I guess it felt like something that belonged in the past, not here in the present. Besides, telling him wouldn’t change anything, would it?”

“I suppose not.” Annie took a long sip of her iced tea. “Sometimes ignorance is kinder than the truth.”

Emily felt the hint of an invitation, the crack of a door opening.

Did Annie want her to ask? In the months since she’d left Chicago, she’d doubted herself, wondering if she’d imagined what she’d heard outside the bedroom door the morning of Dorothy’s birth.

Maybe she had things entirely wrong and there was no mystery or secret at all.

The only way to know for sure was to ask Annie outright, but that felt too raw, too accusatory. Too dangerous.

“How is John taking to fatherhood?” she asked. “I don’t see any resemblance of him in the photographs of Dorothy.” She couldn’t stop herself from poking at the truth.

“John is away a lot with work. But when he’s home, he’s very sweet with her. He adores her.”

“She’ll be a daddy’s girl, perhaps. Like you were.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

There was a trace of wistfulness in Annie’s voice. Emily definitely wasn’t imagining it.

“And you? How is life as Mrs.John Gale? Is he still as extravagant and romantic as ever?”

“It’s a little harder when there’s a baby to absorb all your time and attention, but we manage.

” Annie stood up suddenly and pulled Emily to her feet.

“Now, how about we forget all about husbands and babies and put a record on that Victrola of yours and dance, for old times’ sake.

I mean, what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here? ”

She still had it—the disarming ability to deflect and charm, just as she had when they were children, and as single young women navigating their way in a world full of promise. This was the Annie that Emily remembered. Full of life and fun. Unpredictable and exciting.

Who could blame her if she had rekindled the flames of romance with her beloved aerialist as Emily suspected.

John had wanted a wife he could control, a pretty museum piece to display and admire.

Annie was always too wild for him. She was a prairie fire that wouldn’t be contained, and although it was illicit and wrong, part of Emily was glad to see that the passion Annie had tried to douse by marrying John Gale still burned within her.

And Emily felt the lick of its flame as Annie grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet to dance the Charleston until the years peeled away and it was just the two of them again, chasing impossible dreams and wild adventures.

—

The storm broke just after nightfall.

Emily had never seen lightning or heard thunder like it. It was so powerful that even after it had passed, she felt something of its raw crackling energy settle within her as she turned Annie’s words over and over. “But is it enough, Em? Really? Is it everything you wanted it to be?”