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react.
    At a safe distance, she pulled a small enamel box from her bodice, lifted it, querying brightly, “Vicodin, anyone?”
    Patrick turned from her, disgusted but no longer ruffled. He flopped back down in front of the TV, reached for another beer, and drained it. Robin breathed slowly out in relief.
    Lisa popped a pill in her mouth and dry-swallowed, then glanced around the room, in search of new prey. Her eyes fell on Martin, small and silent in the back, the light of the gooseneck lamp casting dark shadows under his eyes.
    She circled back to him, eyes shining with anticipation. Robin stiffened, watching, feeling strangely protective.
    Lisa stood over Martin, bare midriff at eye level. “Don’t want to join the party?” she asked brightly. Martin’s jaw clenched, but he continued reading. Robin felt a tug of something almost like affection.
    Lisa leaned over him suggestively, pretending interest in what he was studying as she brushed her breasts against his ears. “Plenty of psychology going on over here, you know.”
    Martin looked up at her, expressionless. She smiled down at him sweetly. “Might be time for some hands-on experience.”
    The sky outside rolled with thunder. A crack of lightning illuminated the room in blue-white light. Another downpour.
    “Oh fucking Christ,” Lisa muttered, with an agitation that was not feigned. She walked sharply, straight at the tall windows, staring out—and suddenly lunged. Robin flinched back, startled, as Lisa pounded her hands flat on the glass, shouting, “If this doesn’t stop, I’ll go out of my mind!”
    From the couch behind her, Robin heard the slim young man say under his breath, “ Go? ”
    But she felt a stab of sympathy for the girl, herself.
    Another crack of thunder made them all jump, then the room was plunged into blackness as the lights and television went dead.
    Lisa screamed shrilly. There was a heart-stopping beat—and then everyone broke up laughing. Even the young man on the couch and Martin were chuckling.
    Robin looked around at the faces, shadowed by firelight. There was a new, warm intimacy in the room, a palpable relaxing of guard. The tight knot that had been in Robin’s chest for as long as she could remember miraculously loosened.
    The laughter died down, and the five of them looked around at one another. The young man on the couch spoke. “See if the generator kicks in.”
    Firelight played on their faces as they waited. The room remained dark, the TV silent. Patrick groaned suddenly. “Oh man —Alabama third and goal…”
    “Out of luck, dude,” the slim young man informed him.
    Lisa turned, smiled wickedly. “Here we all are, ladies and gentlemen. What shall we do in the dark?”
    Patrick reached into a back pocket and pulled out a Baggie stuffed with pot. “Endure.” He removed a packet of Zig-Zag papers from the Baggie and got to work rolling.

CHAPTER SIX

    The fire blazed in the old stone fireplace.
    Lisa, Patrick, and Robin lounged on the floor in front of the hearth, backs propped against the couch and armchair. They passed Robin’s bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a fat joint, all now quite comfortably stoned.
    Robin sat in a dreamy haze, melted against the back of an armchair. Flames from the fire burned warm on her face; her body was loose and pleasantly numb. It seemed almost impossible to believe that barely an hour ago she had been in the blackest despair—a step, a swallow away from darkness and oblivion.
    She looked around at her companions and felt a powerful affection for all of them. Lisa, with her amazing hair, oceans of curls, the archness now gone from her face. Patrick, sprawled on the floor beside a line of empty beer bottles, his muscular body as relaxed as a big cat’s. Robin felt warm all over from the heat that seemed to roll off him in waves.
    Her eyes drifted to the faux-leather couch. The slim young man, who had the interesting and vaguely titillating name of Cain, had not moved since the