Runaway by Alice Munro Read Free Book Online

goat?”
    “Flora,” he said. “Flora.”
    The goat had stopped a yard or so away from them, had turned shy and hung her head.
    “Flora,” Clark said. “Where the hell did you come from? You scared the shit out of us.”
    Us
.
    Flora came closer but still did not look up. She butted against Clark’s legs.
    “Goddamn stupid animal,” he said shakily. “Where’d you come from?”
    “She was lost,” said Sylvia.
    “Yeah. She was. Never thought we’d see her again, actually.”
    Flora looked up. The moonlight caught a glitter in her eyes.
    “Scared the shit out of us,” Clark said to her. “Were you off looking for a boyfriend? Scared the shit. Didn’t you? We thought you were a ghost.”
    “It was the effect of the fog,” Sylvia said. She stepped out of the door now, onto the patio. Quite safe.
    “Yeah.”
    “Then the lights of that car.”
    “Like an apparition,” he said, recovering. And pleased that he had thought of this description.
    “Yes.”
    “The goat from outer space. That’s what you are. You are a goddamn goat from outer space,” he said, patting Flora. But when Sylvia put out her free hand to do the same—her other hand still held the bag of clothes that Carla had worn—Flora immediately lowered her head as if to prepare for some serious butting.
    “Goats are unpredictable,” Clark said. “They can seem tame but they’re not really. Not after they grow up.”
    “Is she grown-up? She looks so small.”
    “She’s big as she’s ever going to get.”
    They stood looking down at the goat, as if expecting she would provide them with more conversation. But this was apparently not going to happen. From this moment they could go neither forward nor back. Sylvia believed that she might have seen a shadow of regret cross his face that this was so.
    But he acknowledged it. He said, “It’s late.”
    “I guess it is,” said Sylvia, just as if this had been an ordinary visit.
    “Okay, Flora. Time for us to go home.”
    “I’ll make other arrangements for help if I need it,” she said. “I probably won’t need it now, anyway.” She added almost laughingly, “I’ll stay out of your hair.”
    “Sure,” he said. “You better get inside. You’ll get cold.”
    “People used to think night fogs were dangerous.”
    “That’s a new one on me.”
    “So good night,” she said. “Good night, Flora.”
    The phone rang then.
    “Excuse me.”
    He raised a hand and turned away. “Good night.”
    It was Ruth on the phone.
    “Ah,” Sylvia said. “A change in plans.”
    She did not sleep, thinking of the little goat, whose appearance out of the fog seemed to her more and more magical. She even wondered if, possibly, Leon could have had something to do with it. If she was a poet she would write a poem about something like this. But in her experience the subjects that she thought a poet could write about did not appeal to Leon.
    Carla had not heard Clark go out but she woke when he came in. He told her that he had just been out checking around the barn.
    “A car went along the road a while ago and I wondered what they were doing here. I couldn’t get back to sleep till I went out and checked whether everything was okay.”
    “So was it?”
    “Far as I could see.”
    “And then while I was up,” he said, “I thought I might as well pay a visit up the road. I took the clothes back.”
    Carla sat up in bed.
    “You didn’t wake her up?”
    “She woke up. It was okay. We had a little talk.”
    “Oh.”
    “It was okay.”
    “You didn’t mention any of that stuff, did you?”
    “I didn’t mention it.”
    “It really was all made-up. It really was. You have to believe me. It was all a lie.”
    “Okay.”
    “You have to believe me.”
    “Then I believe you.”
    “I made it all up.”
    “Okay.”
    He got into bed.
    “Your feet are cold,” she said. “Like they got wet.”
    “Heavy dew.
    “Come here,” he said. “When I read your note, it was just like I went hollow