"Much obliged," she said to the offer of the knife, using it to crack the top off like an old pro. She'd done it with her share of Coke bottles as a kid, after all, her father teaching her how to do it with a butter knife on the front step of the porch as they watched the fireflies gather in the brush across the thin dirt road they'd lived on.

"That's good've you," she said, and meant it. He was making such a good, genuine effort, and his manner had put her at ease from Day One, so after a long, thoughtful pull at that beer, she decided to hand the mantle to him for a moment.

"I think a part of me knew it was wrong, all along. Something deep inside that I was choosing to ignore. I was never in charge of anything before, let alone something that big and important. It would have been like waking up one morning and being Director of the whole-ass F.B.I. back home. I never wanted to be in charge, I just always wanted to help, is all. Sure, sometimes I'd think 'wouldn't it be nice if I had the power to fix this problem or that one' ... but bein' in charge? Didn't seem like I did much fixin' then, either. Mostly I just gave a bunch of orders and ran around puttin' out other people's fires."