The mid-morning sun, newly emerged from the rain clouds that had dumped frequent squalls on them during their drive up the night before, was bright and just starting to be very hot. In the distance ahead, the Calicos rose from the plain of the high Nevada desert, the mountains' browns and blacks relieved by dottings of winter snow that still defied the June sun. Behind them, the dirt road twisted and wound out of sight, a ribbon of darker brown in a dun landscape - a ribbon that looked smooth and even from a distance, but, as they had already found out that morning, held a rough and hostile surface, pitted by deep mudholes, grooved by age-old ruts and pierced by jagged tire-slicing rocks.

Robert sat at the top of the short steep slope and watched Jared walk out of the swift rippling creek that flowed over the road. Jared stopped, placed his hands on his hips, looked down at his legs - glistening wet to right about the knee - looked at Robert, and grinned. Robert in turn, as he knew was expected of him, looked at Jared's legs, turned to glance at hls mud-streaked, woefully lowslung Honda, the air-dam knocked askew 15 miles ago, and turned back to give his most assured end-of-the-road smile to Jared.

Jared looked beyond Robert at the Honda and said, It's too bad Kylie wouldn't let us borrow her 4-by-4 this weekend.

Robert replied, You asked her?

Jared grinned again. Well, no, I didn't. He paused, then said, I didn't -

- have to! Robert finished with him. They both laughed. Loaning an adult-sized toy to Jared for a weekend in the desert was a losing proposition for the toy's owner and even Jared knew it.

Jared came up to Robert and sat beside him heavily in the dust, jamming his still-wet feet into his battered hiking boots. The front sole of the right boot had started to separate from its upper and Robert could see strands of ancient glue like stalactites in the gap.

Jared turned to face Robert and said, What do you think?

Robert stared back into Jared's sunglasses and said, What do you think I think? I think we won't make it across that without flooding the engine. Or getting stuck. Or both. And I'm pretty wrried about any more damage to the car. We've scraped bottom pretty hard twice already -

Wouldn't have hit so hard if you hadn't been driving so fucking fast. They'll wait for us for at least another hour.

Yeah, so you say. I think the exhaust system's damaged. It sounds different. And we're already late for the rendezvous.

Jared made a pbblllt sound, blowing a raspberry with just his lips. They'll wait, he shortly articulated.

Jay, they don't even know we're coming for sure. I don't want to trash my car and get there to find they've hit the trail already.

Dude, we'll catch up.

Maybe. If they leave us a note telling which trail they took. And if your boot doesn't blow out a half-mile from the trailhead.

God, Robert, you sure are good at 'ifs'. Jared paused. His face had a hint of the sullenness that Robert had first recognized at five years old for the powerful weapon it was. He braced himself for Jared's next move: maybe imploring, maybe a direct verbal assault, maybe a guilt-inducing sulk. Hard to know what to expect with Jared except that when he wanted his way he'd try numerous avenues to get it. That was a given. Robert blinked his eyes and silently repeated the calming, self-empowering mantra he'd developed with his hypnotherapist. He resolved, in the second before Jared spoke again, to hold firm this time - his resolve in itself a mantra, repeated many times since Jared had first begun to speak and demand and soon after'to manipulate, a resolve repeated with almost always the same ineffectual result.

But Jared surprised him by saying, You've got your mind made up, don't you? And then surprised Robert even more by reaching over with his far hand, crossing it over his body to nudge Robert's shoulder gently.

Caught off guard, Robert stammered slightly as he said, Yeah, pretty much. I don't think I could count on you splitting the repair and towing costs if the car gets fucked up, as if there's a tow truck or phone within 50 miles. He swiveled his head and took in the panorama of wide-open sky and miles of sage-covered rolling hills and sharp-edged mountains behind them, and then looked back at the creek in front of them as he added, Considering.

Jared laughed sharply as he said, 'Considering,' my ass. Kylie'll cover my half of any damage to your car. She knows I'll pay her back.

Robert wavered for a moment, then said, She knows enough to not lend you her 4-by-4.

Jared clapped his hand to his forehead and leaned back, as if his hand was forcing his entire upper body to the ground. He mock-moaned, That's low, man. Low and mean.

And true.

And true. Jared straightened up again. She's one of the few people I've ever met I couldn't bulldoze. That's one of the things I like best about her. Strange, huh? Got me a woman with some spine, this time. Does her own thing. I tell her yesterday that I'm going off to the desert for a few days with you, she says, great, have a good time, don't forget the sunscreen this time. No, 'when will you be back?', or 'how will I call you if I need to?' More like, 'I got a trade show this weekend anyway.' I broke down a little bit and asked her, 'aren't you gonna miss me?' andshe blows me a kiss and says, 'three days, not enough to fuss about.' Can you believe that shit?, asked mostly to himself.

Robert, his mind turning over and over, visualizing Kylie's waist-length fine red hair and her firm, kind way of dealing with people - child and adult and Jared alike - didn't even realize what he was saying until he was almost done. She's like Amy would have been if - and then he heard his own words and choked them off. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, with the knowledge of having gone too far when he should have known better.

Jared stared straight ahead, opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head as if o rid it of a buzzing insect, and then spoke, finishing Robert's sentence. If she had lived, he said.

Robert turned abruptly to stare at his brother, his shame replaced by shock. This was a Jared he hadn't expected. The Jared he expected would have lapsed into a long silence and emerged only to speak about a subject that could in no way be construed to have any bearing on their family history - shut off, dead, throwing a chill that would creep into all of their dealings for months afterwards. It had happened before, less frequently as they had gotten older. They had never - never - discussed their dead sister with each other. Robert, well aware of his own reticence, of his artfully-developed and well-oiled ways of diverting conversation from that period of his life, doubted that Jared, too, ever willingly mentioned Amy to anyone. His shoulders twitched, the beginning of a shiver that defied the heat of the sun bathing his unprotected head.

Why, he thought, am I so terrified so suddenly? Haven't I thought I wanted this moment - this opportunity to uncover our past, this direct communication with Jared - for all of my adult life? Haven't I wanted one or the other of us to be able to say something like, 'Yes, she's dead dead, dead, dead, deal with it, you go first,' and we both go together from there? I have, with all of my heart. Sometimes so strongly that I've wanted to pick up the phone and as soon as I hear Jared's voice to say, 'Amy. Amy, goddamit. Tell me what you remember.' So why is it that now, this very second, with this door suddenly so wide open, I want to leap to my feet and throw myself into the creek and float feet first as far downstream as it will take me from here?

Jared, conscious of his brother's stare, turned his head to meet it for a brief second and then resumed his apparent study of the snowfields on the far-off mountain peaks. He absently traced a finger in the dust of the road, drawing a series of lines that could have been ocean waves or computer language or nothing at all. He did this when he was gathering his thoughts to say something that he would only say once. Robert let him draw and in turn concentrated his own attention on picking drying mud from the treads of his own hiking boots.

But when Jared did speak, it was to ask, Did you mix up any Tang yet?

Robert tensed, wanting to scream, No! Don't you dare retreat now! I'm not that afraid! But what he said was, It's in the green canteen in the cooler. I'll have some too.

Jared said, My man, heaved himself to his feet, and walked up and around to the Honda's back hatch. He returned with the canteen, dripping clear cold melted-ice water that formed little black periods in the dust. He drank deeply and grimaced as he handed the canteen down to Robert. Too sweet.

Robert paused before tilting the canteen to his mouth. This exchange was a ritual, usually welcome but brutally banal at this moment. He said, There's another canteen. Mix up your own fucking Tang as weak as you want it. He drained the canteen, lowered it, wiped a rivulet of orange from the corner of his mouth, and said, Just drink up. Drink a lot. Piss clear. We're in the desert, if you haven't noticed. His words sounded thick and strained tohim, as if his mouth formed them with its own mind, words that were anything but what he really wanted to say at that moment.

Jared said, Good idea. Mom, stepped to the top of the small embankment next to the road and, facing away from Robert, looking back in the direction from which they'd come, unzipped and let fly. The sound of his urine on the ground was soft and muffled, rain spattering on a velvet awning. He stepped back down and sat next to Robert, who said, Clear?

Jared replied, Clear as an unmuddied lake, Frederick. Clear as the azure sky, and giggled. A little nervously, Robert thought, betraying the cool Jared no doubt meant to invoke by quoting Alex from that Kubrick movie they'd seen in Boston fifteen years ago.

Jared wiggled his butt in the dirt and leaned forward, stretching his finger toward the patterns he had been drawing. He absently gathered some dust on the finger and brought it to his face, where he smudged it randomly on his cheek, the dust a light brown barely blending into his ruddy, darkening complexion. He said, Since I've been with Kylie I feel like I've cried more than I have the rest of my life put together, and then fell silent.

Robert waited, overruling his urge to force the conversation back to Amy. Instinct told him to have great patience now; his brother, so quick to take from others, was slow to give of himself. Jared would stalk his own confession slowly, circling it warily before he closed in.

When it became apparent that Jared was not going to resume speaking, Robert said, You never cried. Not even when you got nailed by Scottie Morris' fastball, or when you stepped into that nest of yellowjackets in the front lawn and got stung sixteen times. The only time I remember seeing you cry was when you were seven and Mom took your big bear Fred to the cleaners because the cat kept spraying it. He wrinkled his nostrils involuntarily, recalling the smell of cat piss that had clung to Jared for days after Fred had been pried out of tightly clinging arms.

Jared laughed. Oh fuck, Fannie, you should have seen your face just now. Fannie Fussbudget. He laughed again. I loved that bear. He came back from the cleaners and he was never the same. Too fluffy and they sewed on new eyes and he just smelled wrong. Scottie I got back with the worst atomic wedgie I ever gave and I took great pleasure in burning out that motherfucking yellowjacket nest and every one I've found since then. He smiled. Robert remembered the intent look on Jared's face as he had, overruling their father's strictures on safety, tilted the gasoline can over the small depression in their yard. He remembered how the amber liquid, barely visible against the gathering dusk, rushed into the hole in the ground that a few straggling sluggish yellowjackets were still crawling into. And he remembered their shared fierce exultation as they had stood back and watched the pillar of fire, bright and yellow and pure, bloom from their green and lush lawn in the peaceful summer twilight.

Jared continued, But when Mom took Fred away I knew he wouldn't come back the same and there was nothing I could do about it, no one to take revenge on, not jack-shit. That's why I cried then. And I woke up the next day and went to grab Fred the way I always did and he wasn't there and I said to myself, are you still a baby and are you going to start crying now? And I didn't. And I hardly ever have since.

A sudden breath of wind stirred the dust and rustled the sagebrush, making small ripples in the calmer surfaces of the creek. Robert said, so low as to be barely audible above the wind, Until you met Kylie.

I dunno what it is, sometimes I think it's because she's the stubbornest woman that I've ever been with that all I can do is cry those tears of rage that are in all the songs.N Jared stopped for a moment, then said, "Oh bullshit, it's not like that, you know her. She just - just draws it out of me. And it's OK. I feel clean, cleaner than I ever have before in my life. I want to tell her stuff. I want to cry and let it out and have her tell me it's OK. And you know what, Robbie? She's never called me a baby.

I won't either, Robert said to himself. Never again. But he kept silent. And still. And waited.

Jared lifted his arms over his head and stretched his whole upper body as high as he could reach to the sky, relaxed and lowered his arms, and took a deep breath. He turned to face his brother and Robert felt that behind his sunglasses Jared's eyes were wet. So, Jared said, I told her about Amy. The first person in my life I ever told. I told her the whole story.

Robert said, I'd like to hear the story you told Kylie.

No. No. No story for you. You were fucking there, man. It's not a story to us.

Robert inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the tightness that he felt starting in his chest, threatening to cut off all his breath and circulation. He said, "But we can talk about it anyway.

Jared nodded. We have to. Sooner or later. We have to. I don't want it in between us any longer. After I was finished Kylie asked, what does Robert remember, and I said I dunno, we've never talked about it and then I realized how idiotic that sounded. She said, I don't want to hear another word about it until you and Robert talk about it.

Robert let out his breath with a long whoosh. You must've loved that. Nobody tells you what to do.

Jared picked up a clump of dirt from the embankment and lobbed it lightly toward the creek. It fell just short and broke apart, the downward momentum carrying the pieces into the still water at the edge. At first I thought, I'd rather swallow poison than bring it up with you. I'd rather go to work for General Motors or campaign for Dan Quayle. But after a while, I thought, Why? Why do we - I - have to keep it a secret? It's just one of the most important events in my life, is all. Why can't I talk about it with someone who was there, who might understand how this has, like, made me who I am? No good reason, that's why. It's just easier to dig yourself deeper into the hole of silence than ever try to climb out once you reach a certain depth. Or something like that.

He paused, then continued, Only, I don't want to talk about that day. Not yet, anyway. I mean, we don't need to, right? You remember it pretty well, I guess.

Robert swallowed. He was suddenly powerfully thirsty, aware of the crushing heat of the sun and the sweat that drenched his shirt under his arms. He felt as dry as the ground they sat on. But he wasn't going to the car for more water and risk breaking this moment, not for anything. He said, Yeah, I do. Better than I wish I did.

Me too, H Jared said. And if I didn't, I'd just have the nightmare I have every few weeks where they pull her body from the lake and I'm the only one who knows she's still alive and nobody listens to me, and that'd have the same effect. So let's not talk about it, OK?

Robert nodded. My pleasure. What he was thinking was: if I don't talk about it any more, now that I've started, how can I live with it? He looked at the creek before them, which according to the map was the outflow of a dammed lake a few miles up the road, and wanted to say to Jared: have you ever tried to close the spillway gates once you've opened them if the reservoir's full? The water just wants to keep on coming and will do everything it can to keep those gates open until the reservoir's empty and you, my brother, bless you, have opened those gates and once is all it takes. You'll find when you're struggling with the sluiceway wheel or lever or whatever they use that your strength might just be inadequate against the flood you've let loose. What a surprise that will be for you, the strong and willful and irresponsible one. Thank you for choosing me to help you learn that lesson. But he said none of this, only reached and took his brother's dirty hand with desert mud under its fingernails and squeezed that hand briefly before letting it fall back in Jared's lap and bringing his own hand back to his own side to rest palm-down in the dirt again. He no longer felt the tightness in his chest and his breathing seemed like the easiest, most pleasurable thing he'd ever done. He felt so light at that moment that he could float up, borne on the heat rising from the baked hardening ground, and touch the very sun that gave and took away life in this parched beautiful land. He looked at the creek. In the shallows, small fish darted and flicked their way upstream, heading for deeper parts. Without looking away, he cleared his throat and said, So tell me what you remember about our sister.