“No one needs farm equipment these days, Tony. But the rich men back East, the men who own the bank, they figure there’s still money in land. If you can’t pay, they’re going to foreclose.”

There was no answer, just the sighing of the wind, as if it, too, were disgusted.

“Can you pay something, Tony? Anything, so I can hold ’em off?”

Tony looked whipped, ashamed. “I have more land than I need, Morton. Go ahead, take those acres back,” he said.

Mr. Gerald pulled a pink slip of paper out of his shirt pocket. “This is a formal foreclosure on your back one hundred sixty acres. Unless you repay your debt in full in the time stated, we will auction off that section of land on April sixteenth to the highest bidder.”

ELSA’S SHOES SANK INTO the deep sand every now and then, upsetting her balance as she and Tony walked to town. On either side of the road, abandoned farmhouses and automobiles were buried in drifts of dirt; sometimes all she could see of a shed was the roof’s peak, sticking up from a dune. Telephone poles had fallen down. Not a bird called out.

In town, an otherworldly quiet reigned. No automobiles rumbled up the street, no horses clopped in a steady rhythm. The school bell had been ripped away in the eleven-day storm and still hadn’t been found. No doubt it was buried and would be revealed when the wind returned and shifted the landscape yet again.

At the makeshift hospital, Elsa came to a stop. “I’ll meet you in thirty minutes?”

Tony nodded. He pulled the patched gray hat down over his eyes and headed toward the schoolhouse for the town meeting, his shoulders already slumped in defeat. No one expected much from the government man’s return.

When Elsa entered the shadowy hospital, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the hazy gloom. People hacked and coughed; babies cried. Tired nurses moved from bed to bed.

Elsa smiled at masked patients as she passed them. Most were either very young or very old.

Ant sat up in his narrow cot, pretending swordplay with a fork and a spoon. “Take that, matey,” he said, clanging the fork into the spoon. His voice was still rough and the gas mask sat in readiness on the small table beside him. “You’re no match for the Shadow!”

“Hey there,” Elsa said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He looked so much better today. For the past ten days, Ant had been lethargic and had remained listless even when someone came to visit. Here though, finally, was her boy. He’s back. Elsa’s relief was so sudden and staggering she felt tears sting her eyes.

“Mommy!” He launched himself at her, hugged her so fiercely she almost fell off the bed. She had difficulty letting him go.

“I’m playing pirates,” he said, grinning at her.

“You lost a tooth.”

“I did! And I really lost it. Nurse Sally thinks I swallowed it.”

Elsa lifted the basket she’d brought with her. Inside was a bottle of orzata, the sweet syrupy drink they made each year from almonds purchased at the general store. This was the last precious bottle they had, made years ago and hoarded for special occasions. Elsa added a splash of it to a bottle she’d filled with canned milk and shook it to make bubbles, then handed it to Ant.

“Jeepers,” he said, savoring his first sip. She knew he would try to drink it slowly and make it last, but he wouldn’t be able to.

“And this,” Elsa said, producing a single sugar cookie glazed with sweet icing.

Ant nibbled the cookie like a mouse, starting around the edges, working his way in to the chewy center.

“It looks like one lucky little boy has a mom who loves him,” said the doctor, stopping by the bed.

Elsa stood. “He looks better today, Doctor.”

“He must be improving; the nurses tell me he’s becoming a handful,” Dr. Rheinhart said, ruffling Ant’s hair. “His fever finally broke last night and his breathing is much improved. He is absolutely on the mend. I want to keep an eye on him for a few days, but that’s just to be safe.”

Elsa offered the doctor a cookie. “It’s not much, I know.”

The doctor took the cookie and smiled, taking a bite. “So, Ant, would you like to go home soon?”

“Boy, would I, Doc. My toy soldiers miss me.”

“How about Tuesday?”

“Yippee!” Ant said. A little cough accompanied his enthusiastic cry. Elsa’s heart clutched at the sound. Would she feel a rush of fear at every cough from now on? “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

He gave her a tired smile. “See you Tuesday.”

Elsa sat back down beside her son. His favorite book lay waiting for them. The Tale of Little Pig Robinson by Beatrix Potter. He could listen over and over to the story of Little Pig’s escape on a rowboat to the land where the Bong-Tree grows, loving it anew each time. Or maybe it was the familiarity he loved, the idea that every time it ended in the same way.

He snuggled into the crook of her arm, eating the cookie while she read to him. Finally, she closed the book.

“Yah gotta go?” he said, looking forlorn.

“The doc wants to keep you here for a few days, just to make sure you’re well, but in no time at all, we will be off on our adventure.”

“To California,” he said.

“To California.” Elsa pulled him into her arms and held him tightly, then kissed his forehead and whispered, “ ’Bye, baby boy.”