WHEN ALMONDINE LIFTED her head, he heard the siren, faint at first, then louder as it topped the hill. He looked at his hands. There were windings of white gauze around each palm, neatly secured with medical tape. Doctor Papineau must have dressed them with bandages, but he didn’t recall it. He walked into the living room and found the veterinarian standing at the window. They watched the ambulance pull into the driveway, and then the truck. Edgar’s mother sat on the passenger side. She turned to look through the window as the truck passed the house, her face blank with shock.

Edgar walked to the kitchen and sat by the register again. Doctor Papineau opened the kitchen door and went outside. Edgar heard men’s voices. In a few moments his mother knelt beside him.

“Look at me,” she said, hoarsely.

He turned, but couldn’t meet her gaze for long.

“Edgar,” she said. “How long were you out there?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “The operator got a call around two o’clock, but no one spoke. That was you?”

He nodded. He watched her face to see if she already guessed how much he was to blame, but she only bent her head to touch his and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. At her touch, a flame rose in him and ate him alive, and when it was gone he was left sitting hollowed out in her arms.

“I know what you’re thinking, Edgar,” she whispered. “Look at me. This wasn’t because of you. I don’t know what happened, but you’re going to have to tell me, no matter how bad it was. Do you understand? I’ll wait all night if you need me to, and we’ll just sit together, but before we go to sleep, you have to tell me what happened.”

It wasn’t until she pulled his head up that he realized he had crossed his arms over his head. Her hands were warm against his face. He wanted to tell her everything, right then, and he wanted to say nothing, ever. He lifted his hands to sign, then realized he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He tried again.

It won’t be true if I don’t say it.

She looked down at his bandaged hands and took them into hers.

“But you know that’s wrong, don’t you? There’s nothing we can do to bring him back.” Her face crumpled and she started to cry. He put his arms around her and squeezed.

Then a man appeared in the doorway, an enormous broad man, a giant, youthful projection of Doctor Papineau. Glen Papineau, the Mellen sheriff. Edgar’s mother stood. Glen put his hand on her arm and guided her to the table and pulled out a chair.

“Why don’t you sit down,” he said. Glen Papineau pulled out a chair and sat, too, his parka rustling as he moved, the chair creaking under his weight.

“From the way things look out there, he was carrying something heavy, a bucket of scrap metal, when it happened,” Glen said. “It’s possible he had a stroke, Trudy.”

There was a long silence.

“Is there somebody I can call for you?”

Before she could answer, Doctor Papineau spoke up.

“I’m going to spend the night here, Glen. If there’s someone to call, I’ll do it.”

The sheriff looked from his father’s earnest, elderly face to Trudy, who nodded absently.

“I’m going to need to talk, uh, with your son, eventually, for my report, Trudy. I know this isn’t the best time, but it has to be soon. Now would be best.”

“No,” she said. “Not today.”

“Okay. Tomorrow at the latest. I guess I’ll need you, too. He only signs. Is that right?”

“Of course. You know that, Glen.”

“I just mean, if you don’t feel up to it I could see if we could arrange an interpreter,” Glen said. He sounded taken aback at his mother’s tone, which was a mixture of weariness and pain and impatience.

“It has to be me.”

“Why’s that?”

“What Edgar signs is a sort of…half his own invention. Gar and I can read it. Could. Can. A conventional signer wouldn’t make much sense of it. He could write things out, or we can bring in his old letter board, but that would take a long time. Besides, I wouldn’t let you question my son without being there.”

“All right, all right,” Glen said. “I just thought it might make things easier on you. When you feel up to it in the morning, call the office.”

He turned and stepped onto the porch. Doctor Papineau followed him out of the house. They talked outside, on the stoop, voices low. Suddenly, Edgar’s mother stood up and strode to the door.

“God damn it, Glen!” she shouted, her voice so loud Edgar could hear an echo off the side of the barn. “If something needs taking care of, you talk to me. Me, do you understand? Page, thank you for being here. But I won’t have you and your son making decisions for us. This is our place. Glen, you’ll talk to me.”

“Trudy,” said Glen, “I, uh, guess I was just telling Dad here that I asked John and Al to take Gar to Brentson’s. And that you or he, somebody, should call and talk to Burt about the arrangements. If you want someone else to handle things, he’ll help get that squared away. That’s all. We weren’t trying to hide anything from you. We were trying to ease things up on you.”

“I know you’re doing what seems right. But I’m not helpless. I don’t expect this to be easy, and I don’t expect I’ll have to go through it alone, but I do expect that whatever decisions have to be made will be made by me and no one else. Understood? When I need help I’ll ask for it. Brentson’s, by the way, will be fine. Glen, if you could let Mr. Brentson know I’ll call him in the morning, I would appreciate that. I’ll call you in the morning, too. Now, Page, come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

There was silence, and then the three of them exchanged brief goodbyes. Doctor Papineau came inside, and Edgar’s mother walked into the living room and watched the ambulance and the squad car maneuver up the driveway and onto the snow-packed hill toward Mellen.

AFTER THE TAILLIGHTS HAD disappeared, Trudy walked into the kitchen.

“Page, would you mind making some dinner? Anything you’d like. We need to go out to the kennel and-”

“Hold it a second,” Doctor Papineau said, gently. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I took on the chores? That way you and Edgar could spend some time talking?”

“No, we need dinner, and that’s much too quiet a thing for either one of us to be doing. Edgar’s going to come out to the barn, and when we come back, the best thing in the world would be if dinner was ready. Assuming we can find any appetite.”

She turned to Edgar.

“Edgar? Can you come out to the kennel and help with chores?”

Though the idea of going into the barn made him dizzy, Edgar stood. His coat lay on the bedroom floor. By the time they walked out the door, Almondine at their side, Doctor Papineau had taken a white package of butcher-wrapped meat from the refrigerator and was standing and looking into the cupboards.

OUTSIDE, TRUDY STOPPED AND took Edgar by the shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. She whispered in his ear, “Edgar, if we want to keep this place, we have to look like we can do it, right from the start. I don’t know if I should ask you to do this, but I’m going to anyway. Listen to me, honey. Can you walk back into that barn with me now? We’ll do it together-I know it will be bad, and if you just can’t then we won’t, okay? But believe me when I say that the sooner you go in there, the better it will be.”

She leaned back and looked at him. He nodded.

“Sure?”

No. He smiled a little, and so did she, and her eyes grew wet all of a sudden.

I couldn’t without you, I know that.

“You won’t have to go there without me for as long as you need.”

When they came to the barn she unlatched the doors without a pause and threw them open wide; the aisle lights, so feeble in the daytime, now fanned across the snow, casting Edgar’s and his mother’s shadows back along the snowdrifts. Almondine trotted in ahead of them. Without stopping to think about it, Edgar walked inside and turned and pulled the doors closed, concentrating on the dimming light against the trees opposite as the doors came together.