I can’t, I said, I’m sorry, Molly, I’m sorry but I can’t defy him, not over this, he’s been thinking about this stuff for years, the bog people. Shaking came from deep inside. I can’t. Dad—Your dad’s not God, she said, he can’t do anything he likes to you, however fascinated he might be. I know, I said, he’s not, it’s OK, I’ll be all right, they did ask. Oh, Silvie, she said. Oh, Sulevia, goddess of the groves.
