Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Movement caught my eye, and I watched Emily step out of our house and walk in the direction of the old barn. Where are you going, Showboat?
I plucked a few oranges to drop off at our gate later for hungry people passing through. There weren’t many travelers now, and the makeshift barriers that had once been constructed were mostly unmanned these days. Once, weapons and food had been the most sought-after commodities, but now, people looking for a home bargained with skills. We’d scored a doctor a year ago, a wonderful older man with a lifetime of knowledge. Just yesterday, we’d welcomed a woman who had been a math teacher and her daughter. They had been among the many who hadn’t found safety or shelter, though they’d managed to survive. Their hollow, haunted eyes told us survival had come at a price.
We’d welcomed many such people.
Being part of our community would help. The regular meals would heal their bodies, and Emily’s music would be part of healing their souls. I’d watched it happen before, gazes hung on her as her voice soared above the campfire, the notes somehow stitching closed internal wounds and reminding those who had witnessed ugliness and horror that beauty still existed in the world and that it was worth fighting for.
She’d written a treasure trove of music with every step we took on our journey home, songs that spoke first of anger and disappointment, then of understanding and love, and finally the reuniting of souls. And I listened to each one in awe, the miles we’d traveled coming right back and socking me in the gut. And I fell back in love with her all over again.
I set the oranges in the basket in front of our gate and then made my way to the barn and slipped through the door. I knew right where she was.
I walked past the car that had become unusable in the last few months since fuel could no longer be found, moving quietly toward the ladder that led to the loft.
My head cleared the high-up floor and there she was.
Emily Mattice.
She looked over at me and smiled from where she was lying under the window. “What are you doing here?” I asked as I crawled toward her. “We’re leaving for the market in a little bit.”
I sat down beside her and lay back, gazing at the small slice of blue sky that showed through the glass. We’d made good use of this loft while our house was being built and we still lived with Emily’s parents. But now that we had our own place, and plenty of privacy, we hadn’t had reason to come up here much.
“I know,” she said. “This is probably the last time I’ll come up here for a while.” She ran her hand over her barely rounded stomach and smiled over at me. “Climbing ladders will have to be on hold temporarily.”
I smiled back and lay my hand on top of hers, that same zing of fear and joy reverberating through me that I’d felt when she’d first told me about the baby as we lay in front of our fireplace. Only now, the joy was greater than the fear. This baby was an embodiment of hope in the future, and a living symbol of everything we’d been through to get here. He or she was more precious than the trees or the land or the seeds we planted in the ground. He or she would ensure that the world went on and, as a wise prophet had once said, was proof that life longed for itself.
“Do you think Gretel will have those caramels she brought last week?” Emily asked.