Excerpt from The Driest Season by Meghan Kenny, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

He'd faced the woods and stood for some time, as if he were waiting for a sign of clouds or rain. They needed the water. After rain the air would clear and the allergies and headaches would be lessened or gone for days. Then her father turned toward her, the house, the barn. Cielle waved. He held his arm high, his hand wide open. Then he brought his hands to his mouth and a high-pitched, fluttery whistle reached her, distinct and clear. It was the birdcall he'd taught her. She'd asked him what he thought it meant, and he told her those birds were saying, I'm right here. Find me.

She heard noise in her mother's room. She walked the narrow hall, ran her hand along the beadboard wall. She kept slow and steady. If she moved any faster she'd trip over her own feet and fall face-first, heavy like a wooden door.

She found her mother in the claw-foot tub, lying still, looking at her feet in front of her; she did not bathe in the afternoon or during drought. Cielle sat on the rim and couldn't remember when she'd last seen her mother naked. Her arms and legs were tanned. Her stomach was white, rounded and swollen as if she were pregnant. Her nipples were wide brown circles.

"I found Daddy," Cielle said.

Her mother looked up at Cielle blankly, as if she couldn't quite locate her. She pulled her knees to her chest and lifted her right foot out of the water. The skin was white and shriveled. "Have you seen this blister on my foot? It doesn't want to go away."

"Mom, what should I do?"

"About this?" She rubbed her foot, and shook her head "There's nothing you can do."

"No, about Daddy in the barn." Cielle dipped her hand in the water and it was cold.

"He'll be back for dinner. Don't bother your father. We're just fine."

Cielle touched her mother's shoulder.

"Let me finish my bath," she said. "We'll be fine." .

—— ——

Cielle got in the truck and drove. It was a mile to the Mitchells' farm. She didn't want lights or noise or strangers taking her father away. The Mitchells were her parents' best friends. The road was graveled and straight. The steering wheel was big in her hands, and she sat far up on the seat to reach the pedals. Her armpits were damp, and her legs were sweaty and stuck to the vinyl. She held tight and drove fast. Waist-high corn divided into patterned rows, not as tall as usual for this time of year, and the stalks were yellowing, drying out in the heat. Irrigation wasn't enough without rainfall, and water was low all around. She knew from overheard conversations their farm was in trouble from the drought, but now this, now her father.

A small blue car came from the other direction and the driver slowed to wave. Her sister was in the car, heading for the house. Cielle pulled onto the shoulder and the blue car pulled over too, and Cielle stepped out of the truck and waited for Helen to walk to her. Helen wore a white eyelet dress and had braids. She was eighteen and tall, and her strides were slow and long. She was a beautiful girl.

"Where're you going?" Helen said.

"Mitchells'."

Helen waved off the car. It beeped and peeled out down the long stretch of road. Cielle watched it zoom away until it got so far it seemed to evaporate into the dust and heat waves just above the gravel. The girls got in the truck, Helen rolled down her window, and Cielle pulled back onto the road.

"What's wrong?" Helen said, and tapped her hand on her thigh.

Cielle looked straight ahead and shrugged. She put her hand to her mouth and bile inched up the back of her throat and the truck reached fifty-five, the fastest she had ever driven.

"Jesus, Cielle, slow down, the turn is coming." Helen put both hands on the dash.

Excerpted from The Driest Season by Meghan Kenny. Copyright © 2018 by Meghan Kenny. With permission of the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.