Free A Twist of Orchids by Michelle Wan

encased in ice. Julian pulled the hood of his down-filled parka farther forward and started down a muddy path that ledhim past a forlorn vegetable garden, where barren tripods recalled last summer’s crop of runner beans, and beyond it a chicken house on stilts, its roof caved in, its wire fencing lying rusted on the ground.
    The Gaillards, now just Joseph, owned 45 hectares that extended away from the road, most of it open meadow. The land had been put to many uses over the years—tobacco, maize, oats, wheat. Sheep, too, until Joseph had hurt his back. Julian passed a small fruit orchard and beyond it a little vineyard, the gnarled, dormant stumps bespeaking vines probably as old as Joseph himself, sufficient once for the family’s needs. The trees now stood unpruned; the vines had been left to run wild; the sheep had been sold long ago, the chickens killed and eaten. The vegetable garden was the only thing that had continued to receive attention, but with Amélie dead, that, too, would go to grass, like the fields. For the last ten years or so, the Gaillards had rented their land to other farmers for grazing cattle.
    Julian was overcome with an uneasy feeling the instant he saw the stone well. It looked disused and was covered over with rotten boards. He approached it unwillingly, noting with an icy dread that the boards had been shifted partially aside. He tore them away. His relief was immense when he found that under the boards the well opening was closed off by an intact, if rusty, metal grating.
    The path continued down to the end of the property. He crossed a stream, passing the ruin of an old mill that had once operated there, giving the hamlet its name. The mill depended on the rain-fed stream to operate, hence Ecoute-la-Pluie, Listen-to-the-Rain. The way was rough and slippery. How far could the tottery old fellow have got on his own? Julian continued walking, beating back the bushes on left and right.
    •
    The women stood in the living room, staring about in bafflement.
    “
C’est bizarre
,” murmured Jacqueline.
    “Maybe he went out with someone. One of the nephews?”
    “In his pajamas? His pajamas aren’t there, you know. It means he’s still in them. I wonder if he had a bad turn in the night and had to be taken to hospital.”
    Mara said, “One of the other neighbors might know if an ambulance came for him. We wouldn’t have seen anything.” The Gaillards’ was the last house on the left as you went down the lane that ran through the hamlet from the main road. Mara, the closest neighbor, was also at the end of the lane but on the other side and further down. She moved to a phone that stood on a stand. “I’ll call around, shall I?”
    “You’d have thought someone would have let me know.”Jacqueline looked perplexed.
    Julian came in through the front door, pushing back his hood and bringing cold, damp air with him. His shoes were wet and muddy, so he stood just inside the doorway. He shook his head. Nothing.
    “
Merde
,” said Mara, dropping the receiver back in its cradle. “It’s dead.”
    The nurse seemed to come out of a trance. “Oh. I forgot to tell you. The phone’s out. It was the first thing I tried. Then I tried to call on my
portable.
But wouldn’t you know, my card’s expired. That’s why I had to walk over to you.”
    “I suppose that means everyone else’s line is out, too,” Mara said, predicting the worst.
    “It was the windstorm last night. You should see the trees and wires down everywhere.”
    Julian brightened. “Then that’s probably what happened. He needed to make a call and went out to use someone’s cellphone. In fact, I’ll bet he’s at Suzanne Portier’s right now. I’ll go check.”Julian pulled his hood up and went out again, shutting the door behind him.
    Jacqueline sat down heavily in an armchair. “Let’s hope that’s it.”
    “Yes,” said Mara. She stood staring out the front window. “Although if he needed a phone, I wonder why he