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talking to us this evening, Mr. Hawkins—”
    Vera snapped off the TV, and a few seconds later I heard her bang the drapes shut in the living room.
    Luke stepped into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” When I didn’t answer, he bent over until he was looking me in the face. “What happened?”
    “They’ve got Yates,” I said, shaking my head. “Why didn’t I stay with him?”
    “You couldn’t have saved him.”
    “But I left to save myself.”
    “No. You left because I dragged you out of there.”
    Vera tapped him on the shoulder. “Avie, why don’t you go lie down. Luke can help me in here.”
    Luke stepped aside to let me by. I was still in the hall when I heard Vera say, “You’re pushing that girl—to do what, I don’t know—but she needs to get there on her own.”
    Luke mumbled something.
    “Son,” she said back, “you’ve both been through hell. Let her catch her breath.”
    I collapsed on the bed and pressed my fingers to my head, trying to stop the throbbing. Catch my breath?
    In the last two weeks, I’d seen a friend set herself on fire on the steps of the Capitol. I’d seen federal agents threaten an entire town and execute a woman trying to surrender. I’d seen every attempt to expose the vice president’s treason turned into proof that I was a terrorist.
    The Paternalists had captured the boy I loved and cut off all the exits, and Hawkins had put a price on my head.
    And still Luke wanted me to go on what was turning into a suicide mission to deliver evidence that had only a small chance of taking out the bad guys.
    How am I supposed to be anything other than scared as hell?
    I looked up as Luke walked in. His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops and his head hung down, making him look about fourteen. “Avie, I want you to know, I’m sorry about Yates. If I’d thought there was any way we could have brought him with us—”
    I let him sputter for a moment before I sat up. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. You were right. If I’d stayed with Yates, the feds would have taken me, too.”
    Harris tapped on the door. “Vera’s about ready to serve dinner.”
    “We’ll be right there,” Luke answered. I pushed off the bed and Luke held the door open for me like the gentleman that Nellie and Rogan had raised him to be. We sat down at the table and bowed our heads for grace, then Vera handed me the mashed potatoes, saying, “Help yourself and don’t be shy.”
    Harris picked through the chicken pieces. “I was telling Luke here that even though I haven’t found you a ride to Laramie yet, you shouldn’t worry. Folks here know me and I expect we’ll get some good news tomorrow.”
    The thigh that Harris had forked hovered over his plate like he was waiting for me to say I was okay.
    “I promise I won’t worry,” I said. “Not yet.”
    Luke piped up. “Hey, you know your granddaughter’s studying to be a midwife?”
    Harris jiggled the chicken so it dropped on his plate. “A midwife. Is that right?” He beamed at Vera. “I told you that Keisha was a crackerjack.”
    Luke and I could never pay Harris and Vera back for the risks they were taking, but I think Luke came close. Harris and Vera had never visited Salvation, and they hadn’t seen Keisha since she was twelve, but they glowed as brightly as the colored lights strung on the tree when Luke told them about Keisha helping the Johnson baby into the world and Beattie teaching the gospel of peace to the children of Salvation.
    On the mantel, a chipped ceramic angel spread his wings over the Nativity scene. I stared at his haloed head, hoping there was a real angel up above who’d help Luke and me get out of Pocatello.

 
    6
    “We can’t risk you sleeping on the couch,” Vera told Luke. She pulled blankets from the closet. “Hazel McAllister has a way of seeing right through her neighbors’ walls, and if she gets a whiff that something isn’t right, well—”
    For the first time ever, I saw Luke blush. Vera stuffed