Chapter 9: The Last Year

I had my shirt on backward before I took a second step.

Elliot was already across the kitchen, zipping his jeans, standing in front of the counter to hide the rest of the mess.

"Coming, baby," I called.

I crossed the hall and found Poppy in the doorway of her room, hair flat, one hand rubbing her eye.

"Why is it bright?" she asked.

"The power came back."

"Why is the boat man here?"

I looked over my shoulder.

Elliot had stepped into the light with a candle holder in each hand.

"The storm knocked the power out," he said. "I came to check your fuse box."

"Did you fix it?"

"I think so."

"Okay." She yawned. "Lamb's gone."

"Lamb is on the couch," Elliot said. "I saw him when I came in. He was looking at the rain."

Poppy considered this, nodded, and let me pick her up.

I carried her to the couch, found the lamb wedged between two cushions, and tucked him under her chin.

She was asleep again before I stood.

I turned around, and Elliot was in the hall, not moving, watching us.

"You can go," I said quietly. "I'm not going to ask you to stay if you'd rather."

"I'd rather."

"Then my room."

Afterward, we lay in the dark with the rain easing off the roof, my head on his bare chest.

His hand moved up and down my back, slow and steady.

I had been quiet for a long time.

"Say it," he said.

"Say what?"

"Whatever's been behind your teeth since you opened the door and saw me on your porch."

I breathed in.

"How did my mother die?"

His hand stopped.

"You've never told me," I said. "Not once. You have all these things in your head, and I only have a recording."

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