Excerpt from By Way of Water by Charlotte Gullick, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Justy set her mug down and felt the music and the prayers swirl inside her. She went back to turning her penny over and over in the fingers of her right hand. Lacee let another drop slide from her mug into the can. The tiny blob of green liquid clung to one coin before it slid onto the next.

The pennies were glossy and looked new. Dale had soaked them in vinegar the day before, and the grime had floated to the top of the pan. Then she had dumped them on a towel and the children had helped dry them, making them even shinier. Each penny polished was one step closer to filling the widening hole of hunger.

Micah looked to the windows and said, "I want him to come back."

They all nodded.

"With a deer," Lacee said. Justy closed her eyes and sensed Jake finish a song, pause, then start another. Dale continued to loop her thoughts and fingers. Justy felt a tap on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Lacee looking at her.

"What do you think?"

Justy looked to Micah, who stared at her, his mug poised at his lips.

"Do you think he'll get a deer, Justy?" Lacee's other hand now stirred the coins, creating a small song. Justy shrugged and wished she could see into the future—but not the way Dale looked forward to another world, one of Jehovah's perfect making. What Justy wanted to know was whether Jake would come home tonight and if he'd come with an illegal deer. "I wish he'd done it." Lacee stared into the coffee can, moving the water over the pennies. "No," said Micah. "It would've been bad. Dad would be in jail if he'd done it." "I don't think so," Lacee said.Micah shook his head. "Did you see his face?" he asked, his mouth hanging open.

"Yup. It was terrifying."

At Lacee's words, Justy felt Dale's prayers stop. Dale had opened her eyes and was watching the three of them. "Time for bed," she said, standing and pulling the can of pennies from Lacee's hands and placing it back on the table. The children stood, and Justy hid the coin in her mouth, her tongue filling with the metallic taste. When they were in their beds, Justy heard Dale pacing in the living room and imagined how the shadows jumped at Dale's movements. Lacee began to snore lightly and Micah rolled over, saying amen in his sleep. Justy tripped her tongue over the edge of the penny, thinking about Jake playing in the night while the snow fell. Dale came and tapped Justy on the foot. "Come sit with me," she said. Justy slid from under the covers, making sure they didn't leave Lacee's shoulders, and followed Dale to the couch where Dale would read Scriptures, whispering the words. Justy clenched the coin between her teeth while she slid into a spongy sleep.

Part of her dreamt the river, how it curled around and over rocks, gathered into the tiniest of spaces, traveling to the Pacific all the while. Part of her rode the ebb and flow of Jake's music, swaying nearer and farther from the moment at Sullivan's. A rivulet of Dale's scriptural words trickled over the countryside of Justy's sleep, making the quietest of noises. When Jake stopped playing, his silence swelled in her dreams, and she knew he was remembering, wishing the children hadn't gone along, hadn't seen.

Hunger had ridden with them as Jake drove the Willys through the white landscape, the children squeezed between him and Dale. She sat on the outside, Justy on her lap, the can of pennies in between their legs. Micah had fallen asleep against Lacee's shoulder, and she sat up as tall as her fourteen years would let her next to Jake. She held The Red Pony, but she didn't read. Every few miles Dale dipped her fingers into the can, checking to make sure each penny had come clean. Justy tasted the metallic smell of the coins whenever Dale stirred them. They drove past the two service stations at the south end of town. Jake pulled into the slushy parking lot of Sullivan's and killed the engine. No other vehicles waited and he decided to count this in their favor. He reached across Lacee and Micah and took the can from Dale without looking at her. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror and ran a hand through his short black hair. The few wrinkles around his eyes eased into crow's-feet then, and his glasses magnified the lines, making his face a dry riverbed. Snow eddied into the truck when he opened the door and floated in the cab as he walked toward Sullivan's. "Good luck," Lacee said, and Dale frowned—Jehovah's Witnesses believe that luck is the work of Satan. Dale looked next door at the second story of the building beyond Sullivan's. Above the beauty shop, the tiny room known as the Kingdom Hall had a view of the parking lot, but the windows were dark. Tomorrow Dale would be looking down at the memory of herself sitting here, her hungry children piled around her. Jake finally pushed open the door to Sullivan's, and Dale began praying while Lacee twirled the ends of her hair. Micah rubbed his eyes, looked around and asked, "Why'd we come to Madrone?" "Less people know us here," Dale said, watching the store. Justy imagined Jake asking Mr. Sullivan if he could buy some food with the pennies. She hoped he'd get some ice cream—not what she was supposed to want, she knew, but what her body craved. Vanilla ice cream that she could swirl into the deep purple of a pie made from blackberries she'd picked herself by the creek behind the house. Berries so black they were purple, and when she put them in her mouth, she would taste the summer sun. Five minutes passed, and then the door opened and Jake walked back, his steps fast. Dale inhaled sharply, and Justy pretended he carried a half-gallon of ice cream instead of the stupid can. He set it in the new snow on the hood and pulled out a penny. Dale pushed Justy off her lap and got out to stand next to him. She didn't step too close, unsure yet where the anger was settling in his body. "Sullivan said he'd rather throw pennies in the street for kids than take money from an Indian." Jake cocked his arm and flung the penny at the storefront. It hit a window with a zing. Flakes landed on Jake's red-and-black-checkered wool shirt, on Dale's thin blue windbreaker and on their hair, making them seem like angels or ghosts. Justy looked to see if Sullivan was watching, but there was too much stuff piled up in front of the windows for her to see. Jake picked up another coin and cocked his arm again. He turned to Dale and said, "He asked if my wife was that Jehovah blonde."

Copyright 2002 by Charlotte Gullick. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, Blue Hen.