Chapter 27

Natalie frames ranch life as alternating good and bad days. On good days she tries to be an exemplary wife and mother, greeting chores and children with determined cheer despite tasteless meals and constant fatigue. She performs morning tasks, collects eggs, and forces gratitude to survive.

She leans into obedience and industriousness, masking pain and fear. Maeve, her talkative shadow, chatters through the day, which Natalie treats as a comforting soundtrack to her efforts to maintain maternal warmth and marital compliance.

On bad days, Natalie wakes paralyzed by dread and intrusive thoughts—flee, die, kill, be killed—yet forces herself through the motions. She fantasizes about a sudden rescue back to modern comforts, only to end each day unchanged, naming the experience a purgatory. Some nights Mary brings a sleep tonic; on others, the darkness feels consuming.

The laundry becomes emblematic of her suffering: lye-scorched hands, freezing water, endless scrubbing by the porch as she watches Caleb and the boys get filthier, nullifying her labor. The heavy, stained dresses compound her discomfort and clumsiness.

Evenings by the fire with Mary and Maeve offer slight relief as they exchange simple talk while Natalie mends clothes. Throughout, she repeats a mantra that she is being watched, believing her helpless beauty could draw salvation and keep hope alive.